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“In here, Doctor,” I summoned, entering a room.

His eyes shifted from entertained to lustful. Oh yes, Turner Brooks was undoubtedly mine and I was going to keep him for as long as he’d have me.

My hands shook furiously as I ripped open the box and pulled out the white sheet of paper. I laid it flat on the counter so I could read the instructions. My eyes scanned over the words.

“Ack, not fucking Spanish. Where’s the English version?”

I searched vehemently for anything that said “Step one” or for an image to follow. It’s not like I didn’t know how to use these things. They played commercials all damn day for the women who stayed at home and watched soap operas. I’ve seen a few of them. But I wanted to make sure I was following the instructions to the letter. Any skipped stepped or timing or whatever could make it all invalid or false.

“Ha!” I said to myself.

I found it. It said to take the applicator out of the plastic wrap and place it in the urine stream for five seconds, then lay it flat. It would take two minutes for results to appear in the window. I sat on the toilet and tore the test open with my teeth. There was a purple cap on the end that I took off and tossed to the side. Thank God I needed to pee. I did exactly as it all said. Standing up, I pulled up my pants and hovered over the test, refusing to take my eyes off of it.

My finger nails tapped on the counter like I was playing Chopsticks on the piano. A nervous habit I had picked up since I was a kid.

Two minutes. Two fucking minutes.

Why did it take two minutes? This shit should show up right away. The idiots who created these things clearly didn’t realize how time sensitive it was to know the answer right away. And honestly, why don’t I wear a watch? Where in the hell did I put my cell phone? I should be timing this. I glanced around. It was nowhere near. Apparently, it was still in my purse on the bed.

“Damn,” I grumbled under my breath.

My eyes went back to the little game changer on the counter. Something started to show up in the first box. What does that mean? Fuck, I didn’t even finish reading all the instructions. I don’t even know what I’m looking at. I searched. Okay, two lines is positive, one line is negative.

Two lines is positive . . . two lines is pos—oh God!

I was going to be sick. Rushing to the toilet, I flipped the lid and threw up. My stomach heaved so hard it hurt. Every ounce of food and coffee I’d inhaled this morning was now a mess of bile and disgustingness. I slid down ‘til I was on my ass on the cold travertine tile of my bathroom. Tears streamed down my face and confusion wracked my brain. How did this happen? I was on birth control. It didn’t make any sense. Was I part of that small two percent population that the pill wasn’t effective for? God, I was going to sue the shit out of the company. Nobody was in the two percent. The two percent was just there to scare the shit out of people to take their pills on time. I was someone that took it at the same time every day.

What was I going to do? I looked up at the counter and saw the stick still sitting there. With uneasy fingers, I took hold of it and checked it again. I shook my head. The results hadn’t changed. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I was pregnant, and it was Dodger’s. My life was about to be flipped upside down.

To my family, especially my kids, thank you for being the faces that push me forward every day. Picking up my slack when there was too much going on, and for always being understanding. I love you all very much.

Missy, I have no clue how you deal with my wishy washy ass, but you do and you take it in stride. Pushing back deadlines, understanding why I took long pauses, and then taking the time to tell me to pull up my big girl panties and get my shit done. You’ve known the right words to tell me when I needed to hear them. A good editor is invaluable, I hope I begged enough to keep you around. Please keep tolerating me!

To my group of beta readers: Beth, Stacey, Heather, Shelly, Diane and Nichole. You women are amazing. You all read the book in record time, in a crunch, and provided me some incredible feedback and suggestions. I’m so grateful to each of you and that you took a chance on me.

Nichole, you’ve become the best friend I didn’t know I was looking for. Every single day, you deal with my crazy. And we both know it’s crazy. I don’t know why you stick around, but you do. I’ve come to rely on you for so much and I adore you. Thank you for being you, and not giving up on me.