Ivy’s POV
Another knock. “Open the door, Ivy.”
“I will when I check,” I say.
Silence again.
The timer buzzes on my phone.
This is it. I step forward like I’m walking toward an execution chair.
Look down.
One line.
My knees go weak.
Negative.
“Oh, thank God,” I whisper.
Jess yells, “YOU’RE NOT PREGNANT?”
“No.”
“You sure? You double-checked? You stared at it under the light like a crazy b***h?”
“I’m sure.”
“You better still let me throw you a fake baby shower. We already ordered d**k-shaped cupcakes.”
I laugh, actually laugh, like I haven’t just aged five years in three minutes.
Then the doorknob turns.
I shriek. “Jesus, Alexander!”
He storms in like he owns oxygen. “You didn’t lock it.”
“I didn’t think you’d barge in!”
His eyes rake over me, landing on the test on the
