It made perfect sense.
She'd been battling nausea off and on for days, though she'd blamed her upset stomach on the storm brewing between her and David. A ridiculous lie she'd told herself to put off an inevitable truth. She'd grown up on babushka's traditional cooking and then, later, forced herself to throw up nearly half of everything she ate to compete with the other principals for prime parts. Natasha had a cast iron stomach. Except, apparently, when she was pregnant.
After she'd made her purchases at the pharmacy, she'd shoved the test deep into her pocket, gripped the change and lip gloss in her hand and went out to the truck to meet David. He hadn't questioned her and, in fact, insisted she keep the leftover money. She glanced at the console between them and saw their travel docu
