“Maybe you shouldn’t go back,” he said, looking worried. “It might not be good to fly so soon.”
“I have to. I have three important shoots.”
“If you’re pregnant, that’s more important.” She felt suddenly insane. They were acting as though she were pregnant and they had planned this baby. But only one of them had. Finn. And she had let him do it.
“Let’s not go crazy yet. At my age, it’s about as likely as getting hit by a comet. You heard what she said. If we ever decide to do it, we’d probably need help.”
“Or maybe not. She wasn’t sure. I think it had to do with your FSH.”
“Let’s hope it’s high or low, or whatever it’s supposed not to be.” She got out of bed then and felt as though she’d been hit by a bus. Between the emotions of the day before, and the hangover she had from the wine and champagne, she felt like she’d spent two weeks riding broncos in a rodeo. “I feel like shit,” she said as she headed for the bathroom, and he smiled adoringly at her.
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” he said, looking hopeful.
“Oh, shut up,” she said, and slammed the bathroom door.
Neither of them said anything about it on the flight back to Ireland or for the next few days. She went back to waxing and polishing the wood paneling at his house, and he kept telling her to take it easy, which annoyed her more. She didn’t want to think about it. She’d had a great time with him in Paris, but she was upset about what had happened in London, both the doctor’s visit, and their escapade on the bathroom floor. And the day before she was leaving, the doctor called.
“Great news!” she announced. “Your FSH is as low as a twenty-year-old’s and your estrogen level is terrific.”
“What does that mean?” Hope asked, as her stomach turned over. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what she was about to be told.
“It means that you should have an easy time getting pregnant on your own.” She thanked the doctor and hung up and said nothing to Finn. He was hopeful enough as it was. And if she had told him there was a serious chance she might have gotten pregnant, he wouldn’t let her go back to New York. He didn’t want her to go. He was already complaining about being lonely, and wanted to know how soon she would return. She had explained that she had work to do, and had to be in New York for three weeks. As always, it was like leaving a four-year-old.
They spent a peaceful last night together, and made love twice before she left. He looked mournful as they drove to the airport, and she realized that he had major abandonment issues. He couldn’t stand seeing her leave, and he was already depressed.
He kissed her goodbye at the airport, and made her promise to call him the moment she arrived. She smiled as she kissed him. It was sweet really, even if it was a little silly at their age, to be so upset about being apart for a few weeks. He was going to finish his book, and she was going to work on his house again when she got back. She reminded him to call the restorers to see when the pieces would be finished, and he handed her a small gift-wrapped box before she left. She was touched by the surprise.
“Open it on the plane,” he told her, kissed her one last time, and waved as she headed to the gate.
She followed his instructions and unwrapped it just as the plane took off toward New York. And then she laughed. She held it in her hand and shook her head with a rueful expression. It was a home pregnancy test. And it would be negative, she hoped. But she knew she had to wait another week before she found out. She put the box away and put it out of her mind as best she could.