Hello, Lovely Readers! Holy crap, we've missed y'all! Well, this is the sequel to Crazy Good that we promised. It'll be a quickie...somewhere between 12-15 chapters. We'll be posting on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday...so, you won't have to wait long for updates! If you're reading this, we appreciate you so much. Thanks for sticking with us and continuing to read our stories! See ya at the bottom!
-Jiff and Jenny Kate
Two pink lines.
How can this be? We've only had sex two times. Well, OK, more like six, but only on two separate occasions. Are you fucking kidding me?
Maybe what's freaking me out the most is that Edward and I have only known each other for a couple of months, and part of that time, he was throwing me in jail. We just recently started spending more time together to see where this relationship is going to go. This could end everything before it even gets a chance to truly begin.
I'm sure this was one of the surefire methods on How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days.
"I know we've only known each other a couple of months and we've only had sex twice, which was out of this world, by the way, but I'm pregnant, and the baby is yours. Oh, and I think I'm in love with you. So, whatdya say?"
I must be the punch line to all of God's jokes these days, or maybe He's run out of people to deal bad luck to.
Cheating husband? Bella.
Demise of a lifelong relationship? Bella.
A husband whose whore girlfriend gets knocked up? Bella.
Laughing stock of the town? Let's give that one to Bella, too!
I can hear the angels now: "Hey, boss. We've got a 'pregnant-from-a-two-night-stander" over here. Who should we give it to?"
Oh, Rosalie is going to flip her shit. I'm so far past backsliding. I've tumbled down the hill and face-planted in the mud. There's no saving me.
The only person who sees past all my crazy and doesn't look at me like I should be handled with white gloves or be in a straight jacket, is Edward. Now, it seems I've managed to fuck that up as well.
How am I going to tell him? I wouldn't even know where to start.
With that thought, I can no longer keep the tears at bay. I've felt them coming off and on for the last week or so, and I assumed it was due to Aunt Flow's impending visit. But she's late, which is how I ended up here—sitting on the toilet, holding a pregnancy test. I don't even know what possessed me to buy it. I just did it on a whim. Even after I got home with it, I didn't plan on using it. Back when I was trying to get pregnant, just buying the pregnancy test would cause Aunt Flow to rear her ugly head. I figured it was just the ticket, but two days later I still haven't started, and now I'm staring at a positive pregnancy test.
The shittiest thing is that a year or so ago, this would have been the happiest day of my life, but under the circumstances, I can't see the sunshine for the rain.
As I wipe my snotty nose and look at myself in the bathroom mirror, reality hits me.
Wait a fucking minute! I can't be pregnant. This has to be a false positive or something. That happens, right?
Jake and I tried for years to have a baby. If I had been able to have a baby, he wouldn't have cheated on me. At least, that's what I've told myself all this time. I'm the reason he ended up in Jessica's bed. All he ever wanted was someone to carry on his name, and I couldn't give that to him. When we went to the specialist, they said it was me who wasn't able to get pregnant. I've never doubted that. I mean, the proof is in the pudding. Jake slept with Jessica, and she got pregnant right away. So this must be a mistake.
I hold the white stick in my hand and look at the two pink lines. Now that I look at it a little closer, the one on the top doesn't look quite as dark as the one on the bottom. Maybe this is a faulty test?
Without a second's hesitation, I run out of the bathroom, grabbing my keys and purse on the way out the door, and head to the Piggly Wiggly. I need another test and a bottle of Captain Morgan. As I'm climbing into my truck, I convince myself that the test will be negative, and then I'll sail away with the Captain to the Land of No Worries. By morning, everything will be better.
Rolling over, I slam my hand on top of my alarm clock to shut it up. As I slowly open my eyes, I see the full bottle of Captain staring back at me, almost mocking me, reminding me that the events from yesterday were not a dream . . . or a nightmare . . . and I'm still not sure how I feel about it.
After taking four more pregnancy tests yesterday, I know that I am definitely pregnant. There were two pink lines, a "pregnant", a plus sign, and the last one I took, some fancy-schmancy new test, told me that I'm "3+ weeks pregnant". By my calculations, I'm probably only six weeks along. Since I didn't think I could get pregnant, I haven't been tracking my periods. I knew I was late, but I wasn't concerned—not really.
Sitting up on the side of my bed, I rest my feet on the floor. The cold wood against my skin officially wakes me up, but I still need coffee. I spent the entire night tossing and turning, and I can already tell that my eyes look puffy from my episodes of mental breakdown.
When I walk into the kitchen and reach for the coffee filter, it dawns on me that maybe I'm not supposed to have coffee.
All those years I tried to get pregnant, I assumed I would cross all the bridges when I got there, but I never got there.
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to eat or drink . . . or do! I feel like I need to tell somebody—talk to somebody—but who? Edward? The thought of telling him makes me feel nauseated, or is that morning sickness? Come to think of it, I have felt sick to my stomach the last few mornings while opening the bakery. The normal smells that usually make me feel happy and ready to start the day, like dough and sugar, have been making me feel like I want to toss the few cups of coffee that I usually call breakfast.
I can't tell Rose. This would be the straw that breaks the camel's back. She would force me into one of her prayer circles. Besides, she's almost ready to pop and doesn't need any undue stress. She's seven and a half months pregnant and already a basketcase on most days.
Pot, meet kettle.
Emmett is also not a good choice. He's so stressed about Rose and the baby and being a dad, I'm afraid news like this would send him to the ER.
I feel like I've already put my mama and daddy through so much in the last year. Telling them news like this seems like torture.
A small part of me feels like I should just pack up and leave. I could send myself away, like they used to do to unwed mothers back in the olden days, but deep down I know that would be worse than me telling everybody. I couldn't live with myself knowing they were worrying about me.
Leaning over, I lightly bang my head against the cool counter, silently praying for the answers to magically appear.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
Big, fat alligator tears pool in my eyes and eventually tumble down my cheeks. I push the coffee maker back to its spot on the counter and pour myself a cup of orange juice instead. Until I figure out a way to tell everyone, I'm going to have to deal with this on my own, taking it one day at a time.
For now, pregnant or not, I've got a bakery to open.
We know this was short, but that'll be the trend for most of the chapters! We want it to be a fun, easy read! Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave us some feedback in the reviews! We love hearing from you!
We'd especially like to thank our beta, GeekChic12! She's done a fabulous job and we're so thankful for her! Any mistakes are our own.
-Much love, Jiff and Jenny Kate