The Right Kind of Wrong: A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Fabiola Francisco

  As soon as I’m inside, I ask for the pregnancy tests while the pharmacist purses his lips and gives me a once over. I roll my eyes exaggeratedly so he can see my reaction since apparently, we aren’t hiding our honest opinions about the other, and demand the test. While he walks through a back door, I wander around the small space. I don’t know why they don’t have these things displayed, so someone can just grab them and pay.

  Instead, he returns with three different tests, explaining the difference between each one. I peek out the glass door to make sure my cab driver is still out there and point to the test he said shows the earliest results. Paying him, I run back into the taxi and head home, where my fate awaits me.

  My body is trembling, emotions haywire at all the different possibilities my life could go. My furiously beating heart pounds like an angry lion banging against his cage. I blink back tears with deep, even breaths.

  Once I’m back in my apartment, I pace back and forth in front of the bathroom, the hallway feeling like it’s closing in on me. Times like this, I wish I didn’t live alone in a foreign country. A silent sob rips through me, and I lean against the wall, dropping to the floor to sit. One test is in my hand, but I can’t draw up the courage to open the cap and pee on the taunting stick.

  My fate will be sealed—two pink lines—or I’ll continue living the same way I have, this just being a scare along the way.

  I jolt when my phone rings. Answering it, Noel’s worried face is front and center on my screen.

  “What happened?” she rushes out. I hold up the test in silence. “What does it say?” Her eyebrows lift on her forehead.

  “I haven’t taken it yet. I’m scared,” I admit. It’d be one thing if I knew for sure we used a condom, but honest to God, I can’t remember.

  “I’ll talk you through it. Come on, I’m right here with you.” I nod, standing, and my legs tremble as I walk into the bathroom.

  “Don’t look,” I warn, which is silly. Noel’s seen me pee hundreds of times.

  “Puh-lease.” She rolls her eyes playfully, making me crack a smile.

  “Here goes nothing.” I pull the cap from the test and place it where it needs to go as I tell myself to pee. After a few minutes, I’m covering the test again and washing my hands.

  “Noel, what am I going to do if the test is positive?” I hiccup.

  “Shhh… We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Is anything showing up?”

  I bite down on my lips and shrug. I can’t look. Maybe because deep down, I know the probability is high. All types of worries and concerns hit me at once, like Miley Cyrus coming at me on that wrecking ball. Scary as hell.

  When I look down at the test, resting on the sink, my hand covers my mouth, and tears flow freely from my eyes. Noel doesn’t need to ask what the result is by seeing my reaction, but she does anyway.

  “Pregnant,” I whisper, holding the test up. I feel like I’m in a dream, floating around as if I’m witnessing someone else’s life.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” Noel tries to console me, but I’m too far gone.

  “What do I do?” I ask myself, but she replies.

  “Make an appointment with your doctor tomorrow morning. You have a gynecologist there, right?” I nod. “Great, call the office and tell them you need to confirm a pregnancy. Whatever you need to do, so they will see you right away. After that, we’ll make a plan. I’m here for you, babes.” Noel offers a small smile, and how I wish she were here so I could cry on her shoulder.

  I’ve got no one to lean on right now, and for the first time in two years, I feel truly lonely because I decided to take this job.

  - - - - -

  When I wake up, my body is tense, and my muscles are tight. I stretch my arms over my head and yawn as I come to. I feel out of it, dazed, as I fully wake. My throat is dry from crying myself to sleep last night, and the memory of a positive pregnancy test slaps me awake. Forget caffeine; the reality that you’re carrying your brother’s best friend’s baby from a one-night-stand is enough to make your heart rate higher than a caffeine overdose. Not to mention that I’ve drank alcohol and haven’t exactly been eating the best.

  I climb out of bed and to the bathroom, where the box with the second pregnancy test mocks me. Grabbing it, I rip the wrapper open and take the second test. I once read that the most effective time to take a pregnancy test is first thing in the morning, so I might as well try. For all I know, last night’s positive was a false alarm.

  I jump in the shower while I wait for the test to do its thing, skipping washing my hair and trusting dry shampoo to do the job for today. It’s Friday, so that’s acceptable, right? Besides, if I really am going to have a kid, I better get used to dry shampoo, quick showers, and coffee on the go. Who am I kidding? I don’t need a child in order for me to have my coffee on the go.

  With a stammering heart, I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel before looking at the test on the sink. It’s like a replay from last night—two pink lines, bright and obvious, confirming what I already knew. My hand instinctively goes to my stomach as my throat closes up, trapping every single emotion trying to find its way out.

  I sit on the closed toilet seat lid, body quivering, and finally, the tears come in silent trails that burn down my face. This isn’t a dream, something that would disappear if I fell asleep. It’s damn real, and I have no idea what it means for my career, my living situation, and my life.

  Reaching for my phone, I call the office and let them know I’m sick and not able to go into work today. There’s no way I can focus on anything in the state I’m in. Needless to say, my face will have my emotions written all over it. I’ve never been great at hiding what I’m feeling, and this isn’t the moment to start experimenting with acting skills.

  Walking numbly to my room, I throw on another set of pajamas and climb back in bed. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay working here if I’m pregnant. I’m sure the same rules as our American office are put into practice here, but for all I know, my boss will replace me with someone who could be around and won’t need to take maternity leave. Though I don’t think that’s legal.

  And how the hell do I tell Camden? Do I even tell him? Yes, of course, I do. What kind of question is that? I hug a pillow to my chest and bury my face in it, wishing away this crazy nightmare.

  I should call my doctor, but I need some time to digest this before I can have her triple confirm it. I’m also worried about the drinks I’ve had, although I’m sure many women drink alcohol before they know they’re pregnant and their kids are just fine.

  My breath catches in my throat. My body trembles with my cries. How am I going to do this alone? The baby may have a biological father, but for all intents and purposes, I just became a single mom.

  chapter 11

  Allyson

  I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but my gynecologist had an opening this afternoon, and I rushed over for an examination.

  Diagnosis: Definitely with child.

  Cure: Birth it.

  Dilemma: Tell the father he’s going to be my baby daddy.

  I sigh, walking down the warm streets of Madrid. With this weather, it doesn’t feel like early September, and I’m counting down to the start of fall. I could use a climate change to go with the change my body’s experiencing.

  I swipe my cheek, removing any evidence of the emotions choking me, and wander around the city I’ve come to call home. My arms wrap around my midsection, and while I may not have a clue what I’m doing, the idea of getting rid of this baby paralyzes me. In this moment, everything in my life seems as if it’s hanging upside down from a frail thread that threatens to unravel by breathing the wrong way.

  I have no idea when I should tell my boss about this, or my family. God, Easton is not going to take this well. The mere idea of having to tell him closes up my throat and brings a fresh wave of tears to my eyes.

  I don’t know anyone who has been in this situation to seek advice from
. I cross an old, stone bridge without a clue as to where I am or where I’m going, which is symbolic of my life. Stopping midway and placing my hands over the hard stone, I look down at the river before lifting my gaze and taking in the city before me. The palace sits in the nearby distance, tall and regal, the perfect personification of the royal family.

  The cool stones beneath my hands do little to extinguish the heat within me. For the first time in my life, I’m terrified of the future. I’m scared of what will happen with my job, my living situation, and with Easton and Camden’s friendship.

  With one final deep breath, I turn back and walk in the same direction I came. When I see a café a few blocks down, I head inside and order a decaf coffee. The doctor gave me a list of dos and don’ts, and while coffee isn’t a complete don’t, she did say to limit my intake. I figured I could cut back and take care of myself since I didn’t know I was pregnant and went a little wild with those margaritas the other night, which she assured me the baby was fine.

  While I let the coffee cool, I check my phone. Noel sent me a message earlier, asking how I was doing, but I haven’t written back. I need to figure out how to tell Camden since an Instagram message isn’t exactly ideal. Unless I send him a baby daddy gif and let him come up with his own assumptions. Avoidance at its finest, ladies and gentleman.

  I haven’t heard from Camden since the day he was at my mom’s house. It’s not like I expect to receive messages from him every day. He has his own life to live, a job, friends. He isn’t thinking about me, unlike me, who now has a permanent reminder of the night we spent together, like it or not.

  I drink my coffee, failing at my attempt to come up with a way to talk to him since I can’t exactly ask him to meet in person. My phone lights up with an incoming call from Noel, and I realize it’s still in silent mode from my doctor’s visit. Hitting the side button, I end the call and send her a quick message, letting her know I’ll call her as soon as I get home. Then, I pay for my coffee, chug what’s left, stand and leave, taking the subway back to my side of town.

  Plopping on the sofa once I’m home, I call Noel back.

  “You do not look good, boo,” she says as soon as she answers the video call.

  “Thanks, I’m with child,” I deadpan, rubbing the worry lines on my forehead.

  “About that… I need to add Berkeley to this call. I didn’t tell her what happened, but I saw her earlier for coffee, and she noticed I was holding something back. When I told her it wasn’t my story to tell, she demanded even more. I think she feels left out. You know, since I’m your number one best friend and all.” Noel shrugs as if it were annoyingly obvious, and Berkeley should know this when in reality, they’ve known each other longer than I have known either one.

  “I guess you should call her. If not, I’ll probably hear from her soon.”

  “B-R-B,” she calls out, and I chuckle. As the ringing comes from both sides, I chew on my bottom lip. Once I tell Berkeley, this will be true, and right now, I’ve been in denial, pretending this is a nightmare that will go away come sunrise.

  “Hey,” Berkeley finally answers, sitting on her couch and shifting as she angles the phone the way she wants it.

  “Hi.” My voice is quiet, strangled, as I hold back tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Berkeley’s eyes stare into mine as if she were sitting in front of me. When I remain quiet, they shift to the other side of the screen, looking at Noel.

  I tell her about my pregnancy, sleeping with Camden, our back and forth. I let it all out everything that’s happened these past weeks. By the time I finish, I’m crying, and my words are inaudible—a bunch of sounds that make no sense. My chest heaves as I try to hold it all in, but it’s useless. Reality is sinking in, and I’m drowning in it.

  “You should send him a balloon that says, ‘Pop,’ and then the message is inside,” Noel interrupts my sobbing conversation, and I chuckle humorlessly. Leave it to her to try to make me smile.

  “Or those people that show up at your door singing out a message. Make them dress like a baby,” Berkeley adds. They’re both ridiculous, but I listen as I wipe my face with the hem of my shirt.

  “Order a cake from Bakeology, have them write, Congrats! You’re gonna be a dad! and deliver it to him. Oh, you should keep it anonymous for a bit so he can freak out, wondering who he got pregnant.” Noel’s eyes gleam deviously.

  “That’s not helping, Noel.” I groan, dropping my head back.

  “Fine, keep the cake idea and send a note with your name.” She rolls her eyes as if I ruined her best idea yet.

  As much as I appreciate them bringing humor into this conversation, none of their ideas are actually great for the seriousness of this situation. They keep tossing ideas back and forth while I zone out, freaking out internally about how monumental this is. Me. A mother. Living in a different country where I’m not fully familiar with their laws and with a father who has never had any intention of settling down—not that I think we should become a couple simply because I’m pregnant with his child.

  “Or… Are you listening to me?” Noel interrupts my thoughts. “I feel like I’m being ignored.” She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.

  “Sorry.”

  She waves me off and continues speaking. “You could use the Instagram feature that allows you to call someone and actually talk to him.”

  “I didn’t realize they had a call option.”

  “Well, it’s a video chat, but that’s even better! Makes it feel more personal and all that jazz.”

  Noel is a badass influencer and blogger, and it’s thanks to her that I have my love for Instagram and always check out their new features right away. It’s been a great way to journal my time here in Spain.

  Now, her knowledge of all the social media trends is becoming my downfall. How the hell am I going to video call Camden like it’s all good?

  “That is the most mature suggestion,” Berkeley agrees with a serious nod as if she wasn’t the one who came up with the dancing and singing adult baby.

  “I need to think.” I rub my temples, closing my eyes to prevent another wave of tears from falling. I’m tired of crying, but I have a sense that from now on, it will be full-on cryfest.

  “No matter how long you delay it, the truth will eventually come out. Your family will find out you’re pregnant, and word will get back to Camden, who will suspect he’s the father. Rip it off like a Band-Aid. The sooner this is off your chest, the more you can focus on having a healthy pregnancy. I’m sure the stress of this isn’t good for the baby,” Noel grows serious, sharing wise words that I know in my heart are all true, but the fear is gripping, and my stomach flips at the thought of looking at Camden and telling him the truth. And I’m not talking about the kind of stomach-flipping butterflies that bring me joy. This is more full-on nausea. Though, that could be a side effect of the pregnancy.

  “Yeah,” my voice squeaks.

  “I know it’s scary, but the sooner you talk to him, the better you’ll feel.” Berkeley smiles softly, and I wish they were both here so I could hug them. I can’t even have a virtual happy hour with a glass of wine while we discuss this.

  “Yeah, thanks, ladies,” I say, defeated. My mom and brother need to know about this too, and I cringe at the idea of telling Easton what happened. I’ve never wanted to disappoint him, and I have a feeling this will make up for all the times I didn’t disappoint him throughout the years.

  “I’m gonna go,” I tell the girls, feeling a whole new breakdown coming.

  I hang up before they finish saying their goodbyes and lie on the sofa, clutching one of the throw pillows to my chest as I bury my face into it and release every ounce of pain, fear, and worry. I cry until my throat runs dry, and my eyes sting.

  I can’t tell Camden. There’s no freaking way I can randomly video call him and be like, Hey, I’m pregnant, and you’re the dad, by the way. Yeah, not gonna happen.

  I sink deeper into the sofa and just stare at the wall,
clearing my mind as much as possible. I’m so overwhelmed, I don’t even know where to begin making a plan. I’ll definitely wait until I’m through the first trimester to say anything at work, so I guess that’s a start at a plan.

  However, I don’t think I can wait until Christmas break to show up at my mom’s doorstep five months pregnant. Not exactly the best pregnancy announcement for your family, and I highly doubt I could use the excuse that I didn’t know I was pregnant like those women on that reality show.

  I reach for my phone on the coffee table and unlock it, opening my Instagram account. No messages are waiting for me. I haven’t heard from Camden in a few days. A few long days if I’m being honest with myself. I was getting used to our back and forth banter.

  I finally spot the video camera icon that allows calls, my finger hovering over it before I close out the app and throw my phone down by my feet. I’ll worry about it tomorrow. Today is for me to digest this news and wallow. I wish I had dark chocolate brownies with chewy centers to binge eat. The doctor didn’t say anything about not having sugar, so I’ll be making double fudge brownies tomorrow. Maybe I’ll get drunk enough off chocolate to build the courage to talk to Camden. I’m sure tomorrow everything will seem more hopeful. It has to.

  chapter 12

  Allyson

  No matter how many hours pass watching reruns of Gossip Girl, it doesn’t erase what I have to do. I woke up this morning, made tea, and had breakfast, all the while giving myself a pep-talk to woman up and tell Camden that I’m pregnant. Just the mere thought of it made me puke said tea and breakfast, and my heart race like a wild stallion feeling attacked. Of course, the throwing up could’ve been morning sickness, but it’s easier to blame my nerves.

  Sitting tall on the couch, I grab my phone off my lap and take a few deep breaths. No matter how scary it is, I need to tell him. He has a right to know. And like Berkeley said, once I tell him, I’ll feel like a weight’s been lifted. Telling my family is a whole different story that I’ll get to once I’ve talked to Camden. He should be the first to know.