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He nods. "Okay."

  "Okay?"

  "Yes, okay. Anything else?"

  "No." I shake my head.

  He picks me up then and carries me to bed to rest. He lies next to me and rubs my back while I drift in and out.

  * * *

  There's no class on Monday. School is closed for Martin Luther King Day. The extra day off is great—I don't think I could have managed campus.

  "I'm going to class today," I tell him Tuesday morning. "And you're going to work."

  "Am I?" he asks, sipping a cup of coffee and leaning against the island in the kitchen.

  "Yes." I take in his appearance. He is dressed for work, so he must be planning on going. "I'm sure women are ovulating and in need of your services."

  "I'm sure," he responds dryly.

  "You're not going to fight me about leaving the house today?"

  "No, I'm going to drive you to class myself."

  Huh, that was easier than I thought.

  "You will stay on campus and I will pick you up at the end of the day." He pauses. "Got it?"

  "Got it, big daddy."

  "Cute. Are you ready to leave?"

  He drops me off at the door of the Hymer building and picks me up at the campus library at the end of the day.

  He opens the passenger door of an SUV and I pause, staring at the car. It's a huge Land Rover. "You bought a new car today?" I question as I slide in. He closes the door and walks around to the driver's side.

  "I did."

  "Is this supposed to make me feel safer than the Mercedes?"

  He glances at me. "No, not particularly."

  "You just decided today was the day for a new car?" I ask.

  "The Mercedes wasn't very practical."

  Practical? For what? "Did you save it for me?" I tease.

  "Do you want to be driving a two-seater car, Sophie?" He looks like this concerns him.

  "I'm joking, relax," I laugh. "My grandparents are giving me their old Honda for graduation. I won't be able to afford an apartment and a car payment."

  "Right." He pauses as he turns the car on. "Right."

  We drive to Rittenhouse Square in silence and Luke leads me straight into the kitchen when we arrive. "Mrs. Gieger left us dinner," he says, pulling open the warming drawers under the island countertop. "Sit," he tells me and slides a plate of lasagna in front of me.

  I slump into one of the chairs at the island. "I'm exhausted," I admit.

  "It'll pass," Luke says. He doesn't sit, instead leaning against the opposite counter with his plate, watching me.

  Is he just going to watch me eat? He's been so weird the last few days.

  His phone rings and he answers it as I finish eating. It's a work call and he heads into his den to finish it as I place my plate in the dishwasher and head to his bedroom to grab my cell phone charger. I think I left it plugged in next to the bed. I grab it and turn around to take it to the television room but I stop short as I pass the empty closet closest to the bedroom door, because it's no longer empty.

  There are two walk-in closets in this room. An empty one near the door and a second across from the bathroom filled with Luke's things. But now the empty one is filled with my things. I walk inside and look around. It's the entire contents of my dorm room. It doesn't even fill the closet, that's how little I own. But it's all here. My textbooks are stacked neatly on a shelf probably meant for sweaters. My meager wardrobe is hanging on wooden hangers, my shoes neatly lined up in a row underneath. My cosmetics and shower caddy are on another shelf.

  Has he… moved me in with him? What the ever-loving hell? Who does that? Someone took all my stuff and moved it into Luke's house without my consent. What did he say the other day? I'll send for your things? Was that asking me to move in? I'm so stunned I don't know what to do next. I exit the bedroom and walk down the hall to his office and stop just inside the doorway and stare at him. He's off the phone now, typing on his laptop. He pauses when I don't say anything.

  "Yes?" he prods.

  "Do I live here now?" I ask him, radiating attitude. "Do I get a key too? Or will you be driving me to school and picking me up every day like a child?" Jesus, transportation. How does he expect me to get to and from school every day? "Wait, are you really thinking you're going to drive me to school?"

  "For the time being, yes, I was thinking exactly that." He closes the laptop and leans back in his chair.

  "Did we discuss this while I was unconscious? Because I don't remember having a conversation about moving in with you."

  Luke rubs his bottom lip with his thumb before answering. "Logistically I thought my place made the most sense."

  Logistically? Sense? Nothing he's saying makes any sense. "Why is Gina your patient?" I ask. If he wants to have a crazy talk, let's do it.

  "She's not," he says, opening his laptop back up. "Not any longer."

  "But she was," I say and I know my voice is not neutral.

  "You know that I can't confirm that due to doctor-patient confidentiality, but since you seem to already know, and in the interest of ending this conversation, yes, she was my patient. And she is not anymore."

  "But why?" I'm confused. "Why was she ever, Luke?"

  He sighs and rubs a hand across his face. "We have a history, Sophie. I felt like I owed it to her to help, but I don't anymore." He looks at me. "Is that enough?"

  I don't know, but I'm tired, so honestly, I give up on this fight or whatever it is and go to bed.

  Chapter 31

  Luke insists on driving me to and from class for the rest of the week. I fear for the future population of Philadelphia with the amount of work he must be missing.

  On Sunday I wake up in Luke's bed, same as the rest of the week. It's nice being here. Showering in Luke's giant walk-in shower every morning instead of the questionable dorm showers doesn't suck, that's for sure.

  I'm alone in bed this morning, which isn't unusual. Luke hits the gym before I'm awake most days. I stretch under the covers. The mattress quality at Luke's is a world away from dorm life too.

  I'm still not sure what I'm doing here. Have I moved in? It would be nice to be asked. Is it permanent?

  I stare at the view of Philadelphia from the bed while I think.

  Luke's been weird all week. It's sweet, actually. I think he's worried about me, but I'm fine. I don't have any lasting effects from the concussion and my ankle is okay.

  He hasn't touched me all week, sexually. Maybe I should initiate? Let him know I'm fine? I've never had to initiate before though, not really. I mean hell, usually smiling can be perceived as an invitation with Luke.

  "You're awake," Luke says from the bedroom doorway.

  I didn't hear him come in. He's got a towel thrown over his shoulder, his hair tousled from his workout.

  "Come back to bed." I pat the bed with my hand.

  He walks to the bed and, bracing his weight on his hands, leans in and kisses me. "I'm sweaty. Take a shower with me and we'll go out for breakfast."

  Dammit, does he not want to have sex with me? Breakfast sounds like a great idea though. "I want waffles."

  "I know you do," he says, pulling the covers off of me.

  "And an omelet."

  He extends a hand to pull me from the bed.

  "Bacon too," I add. "I want all the food, actually."

  "We'll order four breakfasts and pretend people are joining us."

  "Are you teasing me?" I'm detecting a smirk on his face.

  "Never. We'll go to the buffet at Lacroix. They have all the food, I promise."

  A buffet? Hell, yes. I bounce out of bed and dash past Luke for the shower.

  Luke is ready before me, as he insists I cannot leave the house with wet hair. I'm dressed and sitting on top of the bathroom vanity, hair dryer in hand while Luke stands in the bathroom door fastening his watch to his wrist.

  "Almost dry," I tell him. "Can you bring me my purse, please?"

  He nods and retrieves it from the floor of my closet and sets
it on the counter. I click off the dryer, satisfied the moisture level of my hair will pass inspection, and dig through my purse. I brush some bronzer across my face and apply mascara before coating my lips in pumpkin spice lip balm. Then I pop out today's birth control pill from the packet and pop it into my mouth while filling a glass of water.

  "What are you doing, Sophie?" Luke is suddenly beside me, digging into my purse.

  "Relax, I'm ready." I didn't take that long. He has no appreciation for how fast I am.

  "With these, Sophie," he says, holding up my birth control pills. "What are you doing with these?" He looks pissed.

  I stare at the pack in his hand. I haven't missed any, I take them every morning. "I always take them in the morning, Luke, same time every day." I shrug. "Well, within an hour or two."

  He stares at me for a second before tossing the pills onto the counter. The pack whips across the surface before hitting the wall and ricocheting into the sink. He turns around and walks to the bathroom door, gripping the door frame for a second before turning back to face me.

  "Sophie, you're pregnant."

  Chapter 32

  There's dead silence then. I feel a moment of absolute nothing before my mind starts racing at warp speed. We stare at each other, Luke watching my reaction, my face giving away a myriad of feelings all at once.

  "What?"

  He doesn't respond, just keeps watching me.

  "I'm not." I shake my head. "I take my pills every day. Every single day. I haven't been on any antibiotics." I shake my head again. "No, no, I'm not, Luke."

  He looks sad as he leans against the bathroom doorway. "We did a blood test before taking a CT scan of your head while you were in the hospital. And we confirmed it with an ultrasound."

  "You've known this for a week?" I'm feeling semi-hysterical right now and I'm sure I sound it.

  "I thought you must know," he says slowly, "and I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself."

  I grab my purse and push past him in the doorway on my way to my closet. I grab a bag and start tossing things into it randomly.

  "What are you doing, Sophie?" Luke is blocking the door to the closet, watching me.

  "I'm leaving," I tell him. I'm trying so hard not to cry, tears are threatening to fall and I blink my eyes trying to stop them. "I'm going home, where I'm not pregnant." God, that doesn't even make sense. I sling the bag over my shoulder and turn to face him in the doorway, but I can't meet his eyes. I have to get out of here before I lose it. "Please move, Luke," I say, staring at his chest.

  There's a pause and then he steps back and I bolt past him.

  "Sophie," he calls out after me, but I don't stop and the front door slams behind me as I flee.

  I'm not pregnant. He doesn't know everything. I need to pee on a stick. I am not pregnant. These thoughts bounce around my head as I take the elevator to the lobby and refuse the town car the doorman tries to place me in. I take off down 18th Street. There's a CVS around the corner on Chestnut. I hustle down the sidewalk, intent on getting a pregnancy test.

  I walk around CVS in a daze. Where are the pregnancy tests? I've never needed one before. I find them in the feminine care aisle, tampons and pregnancy tests all in one spot. Seems ironic since you only need one or the other.

  Okay, pregnancy tests. I scan the row. Why are there choices? Will one choice make me less pregnant? Don't they all do the same thing? I feel panicky, I need to get out of here, but which test do I choose? I take three of them and walk to the checkout.

  The cashier scans them and asks if I want a bag. Why wouldn't I want a bag? Am I supposed to take them into the back room and pee on them here? I stare at her name tag. Holly. Maybe I'm pregnant with a girl and we'll name her Holly. Holly Miller. I lose the battle with the tears then and they streak down my face. I don't want a baby named Holly.

  "So I'll just put these in a bag then," the cashier says as I swipe my card. "With your receipt," she adds, as if asking me if I would like the receipt in the bag will push me over the edge. I'm clearly not capable of answering the tough questions right now.

  I grab the bag and walk down Chestnut in the direction of campus. I have no idea what I'm doing. There's a Dunkin' Donuts ahead on my right and I push the door open and walk in.

  I stand staring at the menu board until someone behind me asks if I'm in line. I shake my head and tell them to go ahead, then skip the line altogether and lock myself into the bathroom. I open all the boxes and skip the directions. Pee on the stick, wait. Look for a plus sign or double lines, got it. I finish and shove them all into one box and then into my purse and exit the bathroom.

  I stare at the menu board again. I should have a donut. That's the normal thing to do while waiting for a pregnancy test, right? Has it been three minutes? The pregnancy tests are in my bag, waiting, while I look at donuts. Cream-filled? Jelly? Oh, look, they have heart-shaped donuts for Valentine's Day.

  What kind of idiot has to be told they're pregnant by their boyfriend? I keep picturing Luke's face as I order two jelly-filled donuts and one of the heart-shaped ones with pink frosting. I add an orange juice. The smell of the coffee is almost ruining my desire for the donuts.

  I probably can't have coffee anymore anyway. Stupid baby. I slide the orange juice in my coat pocket and continue walking down Chestnut while I shove a jelly donut in my mouth.

  I walk and walk and walk. I reach the Schuylkill and realize I can cross the bridge on foot. Might as well just walk all the way home. Luke's penthouse condo is ridiculously close to my dorm room really. Forty-five minutes on foot, tops, less than fifteen by car. But we're worlds apart, aren't we?

  He looked so disappointed when he said I was pregnant. Oh, God. I want to throw up, and not because of hormones. How many times did he lecture me about birth control? I think back to the very beginning, in the clinic when I was his patient. Using condoms just because I threw up a couple of times when I was hungover, the birth control refills that were handed to me.

  I've become my mother, but worse. My father didn't care he was being used to father children he had no interest in. Luke cares.

  I dump the empty orange juice bottle into a trash can and yank open my purse and dump the pregnancy tests as well. I don't need them. It's not like Luke of all people doesn't know what he's doing. My denial is quickly fading, replaced by anger. This is not what I had planned.

  I turn right onto Spruce and see Luke leaning against his big stupid SUV in front of Jacobsen Hall. We make eye contact briefly as I approach and he nods but doesn't attempt to talk to me. I cannot believe he knocked me up. Jerk.

  I push open the door of my dorm room and walk in on Jean and Jonathan having sex. Can this day get any worse? I should count my blessings at this point, at least there were no toys involved this time. I slump against the wall across from our door and slide down to the floor in a heap. I have one donut left, the heart-shaped one covered in pink frosting. There are heart-shaped sprinkles on top too, I notice as I shove it in my mouth.

  The door opens and Jonathan appears with Jean right behind him.

  "Sophie, what are you doing here?" Jean asks, concern on her face.

  "Eating a donut." I hold up the remaining half as evidence.

  They look at each other for a moment and then Jonathan helps me off the floor while Jean holds the door open. Once I'm on my feet Jonathan takes off and I flop across my old bed.

  "What's going on, Sophie? I thought you were staying with Luke?"

  "I'm"—I sigh—"pregnant."

  "Oh." Jean looks surprised. "Oh, wow." She's quiet for a moment. "Luke didn't take it well?"

  "He's the one who told me."

  "He knew before you did?" she asks incredulously.

  "I'm an idiot," I reply, blowing hair off my face.

  "No, Sophie, no, you're not. What's going on?"

  I fill her in and she listens patiently. She rubs my back while I cry and lets me talk and vent all afternoon. All week really. And she lends me clothin
g, since Luke moved all of my things into his house.

  Luke calls, and I send him to voicemail. I'm not ready to talk to him. I'm not ready for any of this.

  Chapter 33

  "Holy shit. Pregnant?" Everly looks horrified. She's staring at my stomach like she suspects baby cooties are airborne.

  "It's not contagious, Everly."

  "I know that," she responds unconvincingly while running a hand across her flat stomach. She hops up on the back counter and stares at me while swinging her feet. "Have you told Luke? How'd he take it? Are you gonna HEA?"

  "Are we going to what?"

  Everly rolls her eyes at me. "HEA. Are you going to get married, have the baby and live happily ever after?"

  "I don't know." I shake my head.

  "Well, how did he react when you told him? He's really old, he might want a kid," she offers.

  "He told me, actually."

  Everly stops swinging her legs. "How? Were you playing some kinky pregnancy test game? Please say yes," she pleads.

  "Uh, no." I point to my head. "Concussion? Hospital? Remember?"

  "Oh, right," she says, deflating.

  "Enough about me. What's new with Professor Camden?"

  Everly freezes for a brief second then shrugs. "Nothing. And if you think I'm done talking about the chicken nugget in your uterus, you're mistaken."

  I ignore her and move to assist a customer.

  "So, what's your plan?" Everly asks when I'm done.

  "It's been three days, Everly, I'm supposed to have a plan?"

  Everly looks at me like I'm crazy. "Yeah, you're Sophie. You probably had a plan within three hours."

  I slump against the counter. "I had planned to graduate without a pregnancy, so maybe planning isn't all it's cracked up to be."

  Everly just waves her hand for me to continue.

  "I think I can afford a one-bedroom in a decent area as long as I find a full-time position by graduation."

  "You can afford a three-bedroom and a pony with the amount of child support Luke will be paying."