The silence stretched so long Dorothy could hear everything—the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, a siren wailing somewhere blocks away, her own pulse hammering in her ears.
Jake’s hand slipped off the doorknob.
“What?” His voice came out barely above a whisper.
Dorothy’s mouth had gone completely dry. She’d said it. The words were out there now, hanging in the air between them, and she couldn’t take them back. “I’m pregnant.”
He turned around slowly, his duffel bag sliding off his shoulder and hitting the floor with a soft thud. His face had gone pale. “Are you—are you sure?”
No. She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t pregnant at all. This was a lie, a desperate lie, and she should tell him the truth right now before this went any further.
But he’d taken a step back into the apartment. A
