A Mistake?

Thanksgiving

"Are you sure you don't want to come to my dad's for thanksgiving?" Mary Margaret asks for the a millionth time.

"I'll be fine on my own." I reply turning on the TV, "Go have fun."

"Okay. I'll bring some pumpkin pie home for you." She smiles and leaves.

I get a notification on my phone saying that it was day 40 of my menstrual cycle, and I have yet to get my period. I've never gone to day 40, that's a long ass time to wait to bleed for a week again. I start to think, I have been nauseous this week, a queezy stomach when people brought certain foods. I did throw up almost every morning this past week. What if I'm pregnant? No, that can't be! I wasn't even ovulating when I had sex with Robin. I quickly walk out of the house and run to the nearest convenience store and purchase a box of pregnancy tests.

I walk into the bathroom and pull out the package. I lay it on the counter top and just stare at it for a little while. There is no way I am pregnant, I say to myself as I open it up. I pull the first stick out of the box and sit on the toilet. I inspect the stick, what if I am pregnant? God, what would I tell Robin?

I urinate onto the stick and place the cap over top and let it sit for about five minutes before I read it.

Positive.

There is no way, that isn't possible! I'll take another test, and another... All positive. Holy Hannah, what have I gotten myself into. I need to text M, but she's eating dinner with her family. Should I talk to Robin- no, why in the hell would I do that. I start freaking out and pacing the bathroom floor. I look into the mirror and turn to the side, I place my hand over my stomach;  there is a living being growing inside me right now. I need to make an OB appointment to make sure this is the real deal.

My phone starts to ring and breaks me from my thought process,

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hey what are you up to?" I her a British voice over the phone.

"Nothing, why?" I ask.

"Because I'll be there in ten." Robin hangs up and my anxiety reaches its peak.

Fuck! What am I going to do now? I can't tell him there's a possibility that I might be pregnant. What am I going to do- what should I do? God, could this get any worse?

Within ten minutes, he's at my door step like he said. I invite him in and his hands are full of plastic bags.

"What's in the bags?" I ask.

"Our Thanksgiving meal." He smiles proudly.

"You didn't have to do that, Robin."

"But I wanted to." Hi smiles wider showing his dimples. His dimples are to die for, they are just the cutest.

We walk into the kitchen and unpack everything. He brought already cooked turkey, stuffing, corn, potatoes, pie; looking at everything, I start to feel nauseous, I quickly run into bathroom throw up what feels like all my insides. Robin rushes to my aid and pulls my hair back as I keep tossing my cookies.

"You good?" He asks when I finally feel like I can breathe.

"Yeah." I say simply. I stand up and go to the sink and rinse my mouth and brush my teeth.

"Do you want some ginger ale?" He offers.

"I'm okay. I'm just gonna get some water. Thank you." I reply.

"You're welcome." He smiles again.

We walk out of the bathroom with his hand on the small of my back. He escorts me to the couch and sits down next to me.

"Do you have a thermometer, to check your temperature?" He inquires.

"No, Robin. I'm not sick." I fiddle with my hands.
He puts his hand to my forehead and he nods, "Then what caused you to throw up? What did you eat today?"

"Nothing unusual." I sigh. I bite my lip wondering if I should tell him.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" He questions.

"No- yes." I hesitate.

"You can tell me, love." He shines pushing sway a strand of hair from my face.

"I could possibly, maybe, might be pregnant." I stutter.

His have goes from a grin to expressionless in a split second. He stares at me and I'm getting a little scared.

"Oh, okay." He finally says after our quite uncomfortable silence. "When, when did you find out?"

"Right before you called me, I took a few tests." I articulate slowly.

"What are we going to do?" He rubs his face.

"I don't know. I'm going to make an OB appointment tomorrow, when they're open." I look into my lap.

"Okay, can I come?" He inquires.

"If you want, I guess. You don't need to feel obligated to come." I wave off.

"Why wouldn't I want to come? This is my child too... right?"

"Yes, it is your child." I confirm.