The Pregnancy Test (The Marin Test Series Book 3)

by Amanda Aksel

  “Why, because you read some woo-woo book about the universe?” I waved my hands in front of my face like a magical gypsy.

  “No, because I'm your mother. If I would have raised you in China you would have learned to respect your elders.”

  I laid back, stretching out on the couch. “Fine. We can go baby shopping today.”

  “Well, it's only going to work if you feel good about it. So finish your coffee, get dressed, and start feeling good!”

  I half expected her to whip out some cleansing sage. But I did what she asked and by the time we got to the baby boutique I pretended that I was pregnant, the all-natural way. Besides, what she'd said wasn't that different than what I’d read in the positive psychology journals.

  The store was filled with smiling expectant mothers and new mommies in their LuLaRoe leggings pushing strollers around the rows of name brand infant clothing.

  “This is so cute!” My mom held up a tiny navy and white sailor suit.

  “It's adorable.” I smiled, but I was more interested in the little pink dresses and footie pajamas. I followed my mom toward the back of the store to a row of snazzy running strollers and mahogany cribs on display. I had already created a Pinterest board with nursery ideas. Teal and pink for a girl and teal and orange for a baby boy. Then I saw it—the crib that I’d been eyeing since last year.

  “Oh, my God,” I said with a gasp. I'd only ever seen it online, but there it was in the flesh. The wood flesh, anyway. It was painted white except for the dark-stained rail along the top. A classic meets modern design. Perfect for any baby.

  “What?” she asked.

  “This is my dream crib.” I said, running my hands along the smooth railing, thinking of where it would fit best in the baby’s room.

  She gave an approving nod. “It's very nice.”

  I was so enamored with the crib that I completely ignored the fact that my mom handed me a compliment.

  She playfully swatted my shoulder. “Why don't you buy it?”

  I bit my lower lip. “It's kind of expensive for not even being pregnant yet. Plus, we've been spending a lot on fertility treatments.”

  Mom flipped over the price tag and flinched, but she quickly recovered. “I'll buy it. For our grandchild.”

  I shook my head. “No, I can't ask you to do that.”

  She put her hand on her hip. “You didn't ask. It's a gift from me and your father.”

  I looked at the crib once more. It was at the top of my list. But I couldn’t quite figure out if having the crib without being pregnant would be a good thing or a bad thing. No matter what, we’d have a baby somehow, and she did offer. “Are you sure? It's a lot of money.”

  “It's not about the money. It's about you getting excited and feeling good, remember? If I buy it . . .”

  “The baby will come,” I said, feeling just a little more positive about the new baby. Whenever she’d decide to show up.

  Mom nodded. “Yes.” She actually seemed eager to purchase the crib, even though she did ask them to come down on the price, which they didn't, but instead threw in free delivery.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, giving her a side hug.

  “You're welcome. Now where are you taking me to lunch?”

  I laughed. “Anywhere you want.”

  We spent the next day cutting out pictures from baby magazines and creating a vision board to keep near the crib. She also gave me explicit directions to clean out the room and paint it. I agreed. By Monday, she was homesick, or so she claimed, and she left the following morning. Her stay had been just long enough because she had completely rearranged my bedroom closet and I couldn't find my favorite tan blazer anywhere.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Good Vibes and Little Lies

  “Hey, Rachel, is everything okay?” I asked when she called me around lunchtime. I had just finished with my last couple sessions and was chowing down on hummus and carrots.

  “Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?” She and David were still living in the same house and it looked like she would be the one to get the boot come the summer break.

  “So what's going on?” I asked, taking a sip from my water glass. I’d been drinking a lot of it, at least a gallon every day. My new fertility regime may have included sleeping more, but the new, healthier lifestyle gave me so much energy that I didn’t need as much sleep. Admittedly, with the yoga and meditation, I was less stressed throughout the day. I started to feel my body become the perfect place for a baby.

  “David’s going out of town this weekend so I'm hosting a wine night with a few friends. Holly's coming and so is Keiko.”

  Keiko. It had been a while since I’d first met Keiko at Dr. Pia’s office and I’d been too busy to make any of Rachel’s other social events, but it’d be the perfect time to talk with her about her fertility journey. Maybe I could give her a copy of You CAN Get Pregnant.

  “That sounds great! I'll be there. How’ve you been? I haven’t talk to you in a couple of weeks.”

  She let out a sigh. “Okay. It's really hard living with Assface. I can't wait to get out of this house for good.”

  “Why don't you stay at your parents’ condo on the water or Holly's?”

  “My parents’ place is too far from work and there's no way I'm living with my newlywed sister right now. Maybe in a couple of years when they stop having sex all the time.”

  I shuddered thinking of the time I’d accidently walked in on Holly and Noom. Some things you just can’t unsee.

  “Well, if you ever need a place to get away, you can always stay at our house,” I offered.

  “I may take you up on that.”

  When I got home, a large box with a picture of my dream crib was propped up against the entryway wall. I smiled, thinking that maybe it was the start of something real. I made my way to the kitchen, following the familiar smell of fresh pasta and grilled leeks—one of James’ favorite dishes to make. His dinner music blared in the background, while he worked the knife over a shallot, or at least I thought it was a shallot.

  “Hey, baby,” I said, placing my hand on his back and giving him a peck on the mouth.

  He stirred the simmering cream sauce. “Hey. Did you see we got a package today?”

  “Yeah, it's great, isn’t it?” I asked, grinning.

  He didn’t seem to share the same enthusiasm. “You didn't tell me you bought a crib.”

  I leaned back against the counter and watched him work. “I didn't. My mom did. And I did tell you about it on Saturday.”

  “You did?” He cocked his head.

  “When you were about to take a nap after you got back from the hospital. Remember?”

  James scrunched his eyebrows together. “You sure I wasn’t sleeping?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think so, but what do you think about the crib?”

  He flashed a cautious smile. “I think it's really nice.”

  I pulled on his T-shirt playfully. “Can you put it together this weekend?”

  “You want me to put it together already? Don't you think it's kind of weird?” He scooped the grilled leeks off the cutting board and sunk them into the cream sauce.

  “I thought it was weird at first, but I'm gonna try this thing my mom's talking about.”

  He gave me a funny look. I couldn’t blame him. The fact that I was listening to my mom about anything was one thing, but the fact that I was trying this buy-it-and-the-baby-will-come stuff was another. “What's that exactly?”

  “The law of attraction . . .” I said as if I were whispering magic words.

  “Oh, is that why you were making vision boards the other day?”

  “Yep,” I said, feeling my cheeks turn bashful-pink. “It can't hurt.” I didn’t know which one of us I was trying to convince. But he seemed completely closed off to the idea.

  My cell phone sang from inside my oversized purse near the front door. “Oh, let me get that.” I rushed over, thankful for the interruption. And when I saw that it was Te
lly, I was doubly thankful. I hadn’t talked to her all week.

  “Well, hello friend,” I said.

  “Marin, I did something.” Her voice sounded like she’d accidently murdered someone and needed to confess.

  “What?” I asked, my chest tightening a little.

  “I just . . . I went on a date with a guy I found . . . online.” She whispered the word online.

  My mouth could barely contain the huge laugh that had shot up from my belly. I laughed my ass off for nearly a minute. James peeked his head out of the kitchen, giving me the strangest look. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. I could hardly breathe.

  “Okay, that's enough,” she said. “I’m humiliated enough as it is.”

  I wiped a tear from my eye. “Sorry. Sorry. What happened?”

  “So I meet this guy, he's super hot. Like, why-are-you-online-dating hot? I thought it might be a scam—he was so sexy. I met him for a drink after work a few days ago and it was fun. So last night, I sent Leo to Will's so I could see him again. We went out, had a little fun, a lot of flirting, and then we came back to my place and I finally had sex. It was so good. I almost forgot how amazing sex could be. And I actually liked this guy. He was sorta on my level, you know?”

  “So what's the problem? Is he too available for you?” That was usually the issue.

  “No, the opposite.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, fearing I understood full well what it meant.

  “As we were saying goodbye, practically making out in the doorway, he said, ‘I should probably tell you that I'm married. Is that going to be a problem?’ At first I was like, fuck, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and asked if he meant that he was separated and he said, ‘No, just married.’ Can you believe that?”

  My jaw hung low and I had nothing to say.

  “Marin, are you there?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Yeah, I just . . . wow. I knew guys like that existed.” He was the reason Unspoken: The Secret Lives of Men—one book that had gotten me into a lot of trouble—was even in print.

  “Oh, I know they exist, and believe me it's not the first time I accidently slept with a married guy, but usually I can catch that kind of thing.” I could tell by the sound of her voice she felt like a fool. She was rarely, if ever, deceived.

  “How can you tell without a wedding ring?” I asked.

  “I have a bunch of trick questions, plus I might as well be a certified body language expert. I can always tell. And I had no freaking clue. Being a mother’s made me soft. Now I can't date!”

  “Yes, you can. I don't think it's the baby, I think it's the fact that you've been celibate,” I said that last part under my breath.

  “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  I poked my head in the kitchen, making sure James was still preoccupied. “Sorry, but now that you've had a little somethin', somethin', you can use your head. Go on another date and ask those trick questions. Go find the love of your life, even though we both know it's Will.”

  She sighed. “You may not know this, but there’s a difference between the love of your life and the one you should be with. Sometimes, anyway.”

  Did I hear a longing in her voice? Did Telly secretly wish things would magically work out with Will? That he was the one she should end up with? I wanted that for her. If she and Will could just be happy together then she would literally have it all. She’d have the life I'd always wanted. And if Telly could get over her shit and settle down with Will, then I could definitely get pregnant.

  After weeks of waiting, it was finally Dr. G. Day. I was even more excited to see him than I was seeing Dr. Pia. I just knew he would be the one to help me get pregnant.

  James and I waited in the reception area. Golden wood floors warmed the room. Photographs of wistful waterfalls and majestic mountaintops looked like personal pics from a trip around the globe. Maybe Dr. G. had taken them himself. New-age, Asian-inspired music played softly in the background and there were no magazines scattered on the end tables. Instead, there were neatly stacked books with inspirational quotes and self-help titles, some of which I'd read.

  I looked over at James, who seemed to still be surveying the room. “This place feels good, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

  Finally, after rifling through mindful Buddhist quotes, we were called back and escorted to Dr. G.’s office. While his office did have a desk and meeting chairs, we were asked to sit on the nearby sofa cushion on a bamboo-railed platform. When Dr. G arrived, he sat in the chair across from us like we were about to start a therapy session. Except he leaned in holding his tablet instead of leaning away like I usually did. He wore a light-blue button down and khakis, no lab coat. His black hair was buzz-cut and I was ninety-nine percent sure he was Chinese-American like me.

  “So,” he said, “I’m told there's been a little bit of trouble conceiving. Is that right?”

  “Yes, that's right,” I said, leaning in too.

  He smiled with a confident flicker in his eyes. “Well, not to worry. We've got a treatment plan for you that we've had a lot of success with.”

  The only words I heard were a lot of success and I liked the way it sounded. “Great, we're very open to your treatment plan. I’ve been reading about TCM for fertility in a book called You CAN Get Pregnant. Have you heard of it?”

  Dr. G. nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact, and if you’ve already started with the recommended regiment, then that will make my job a little easier.”

  I straightened my spine, beaming like a teacher’s pet. He asked us a few routine questions and reviewed the paperwork we had completed in the waiting room.

  “Dr. Johns-Young,” he started.

  “Call me Marin.” I batted my eyelashes at him. Not in a flirty way, but in the I-know-you’ll-help-give-me-a-baby way.

  He smiled and shot James a quick glance. “Marin, on a scale of one to ten, what would you say your stress level has been in the past few months? One being no stress.”

  I looked at James, wondering if the number I came up with would differ from his. “It was pretty high for a little while, about seven or eight, but it’s calmed down to about a four or five.”

  “Really?” Dr. G. said, typing something out on his tablet. “I guess I always thought that therapists never got rattled.”

  “Oh no, I'm the queen of getting rattled,” I said and James put his hand on my back as confirmation that he agreed with my statement.

  Dr. G. cleared his throat and set his tablet down next to him. “First I want to start with an overview of your diet, prescribe some herb teas, and start you on acupuncture as soon as possible. And we'll do some mental relaxation with Linda, our energy therapist. If we can get your stress down to at least a three, that would be very helpful.”

  “Energy therapist?” James asked with a skeptical sneer. Usually, I would’ve had the same reaction, but with the vision boards and the meditation, I was embracing my inner mysticism.

  “That’s right. It’s sort of a spiritual chiropractor and will help Marin align and balance. What about you, James? How would you rate your stress level?"

  He rubbed his hand along his knee. I was anxious to hear his number. He’d been playing it so cool over those last few months. “Probably about a seven or eight.”

  I whipped my head in his direction, frowning. “Oh, baby, I didn’t know it was that high.”

  James shrugged. “With the fertility stuff, plus David, and my job, let’s just say it’s been a challenging year.” He was right about that. I placed my arm around his shoulder and played with the base of his hairline on the back of his neck, the way he likes. If only we weren’t spending all of our money on fertility treatments, we could go on that much-needed island vacation.

  “It's not typically part of the plan, but we can also get you in with the energy therapist,” the doctor offered.

  “Does it really work?” James asked, like he wanted Dr. G. to come clean tha
t it was a scam.

  He gave James a stern look. “Linda sees a lot of patients so she must be doing something right. You wouldn't have patients of your own if physical therapy didn’t work, right?”

  “Right,” James said, his cheeks flushed. “I guess I could try it.”

  The doctor smiled. “You'll be a believer in no time. Actually, I think Linda just had a cancellation if you two want to try it today.”

  James and I looked at each other with a shrug.

  An hour later, we practically floated out of the office caring a bag of herbs and teas. My body tingled, and the wind brushing against my skin was invigorating. James seemed to be sporting the same high grin that I was.

  “So, what’d you think of energy healing?” I asked.

  “Better than a massage.” He nodded. “But not better than sex.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Rescue Rachel

  That Saturday night, I showed up at Rachel’s with a bottle of Pinot Grigio for them and a bottle of sparkling lemonade for me. Rachel wore her adorable dress-style paisley apron. She seemed not only happy to see me, but relieved as well. Her greeting hug was tight, like a child begging me to never leave again.

  “Are you doing okay?” I asked.

  Her face transformed into a sort of muddled smile. “Yeah, I think I’m okay.”

  Since she was hosting the other guests, I knew it wasn’t the best time to inquire further. “We can talk later,” I said.

  She took the bottles and directed me to make myself comfortable in the living room while she pulled the bruschetta out of the oven. Her living room was elegantly lit with white candles, the scent of lemon and basil filled the space. It was the only thing that filled the space. Holly and Keiko had yet to arrive.

  Rachel popped up next to me, handing over a chilled glass of the sparking lemonade.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  She untied her apron and pulled it over her head. “Oh, Holly canceled at the last minute. She's not feeling well.”