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her apartment. Despite the gesture being something she knew his mother had drilled into him and it having no meaning, Pia drew strength from his palm’s warmth as it seeped through to her skin.
    Once they were inside, he dropped his hand and she felt the loss keenly, which only brought a new concern to the fore—she couldn’t allow herself to depend on JT, not even in this minor way. She was an adult who neededno one to lean on. She stretched to her full height. “This will take a few minutes. Perhaps you could…” She made a waving gesture with her hand, not really sure what she wanted him to do in the meantime.
    He scrubbed his hands through his hair, as if waking from a trance. “I’ll make coffee.”
    â€œGood idea,” she said, then walked on unsteady legs to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
    Conflicting emotions swirled through her veins in a nauseous dance. Fear that she was pregnant foolishly fought with fear that she might not be. She leaned back against the cool wood of the door. Did she want there to be a baby or didn’t she? If she wasn’t pregnant, would she be relieved…or would she be devastated that she’d lost another chance at motherhood?
    Her eyes slowly lifted to meet their reflection in the mirror, and held. She looked as terrified as she felt—eyes too wide, lips quavering, skin bleached of color. Part of her wanted to rush and get this over with, get past this mind-numbing unknowing. The other part pulled her back, fighting against finding out—not wanting to confirm that she was pregnant, not wanting to miss out on motherhood again…
    And then there was JT. If this test showed she wasn’t pregnant, she’d show him the door and never be caught alone with him again. If she was carrying his baby…
    Breaking the connection, she ripped open the packet and performed the test quickly, trying to think of something—anything—else.
    When it was done, she slipped into her bedroom and changed out of her blue dress and heels and into soft pants and a sweater, wanting the reassurance of comfortable clothes to face what lay ahead.
    Picking up the little stick that would foretell her fate,she emerged into the kitchen. JT stood at the counter, three mugs in front of him, eyes squeezed shut, skin pulled taut over his face. What was going on in his mind—was he sending up a prayer for the test to be negative? Bargaining for the chance to walk away from her? She bumped a chair and he swung toward her, his eyes wide and alert, yet giving away no clues to his silent thoughts.
    She dug one hand into her pants pocket to stop it fidgeting, and held the test aloft with the other. “It has about two more minutes. We need to wait the full five minutes for a definite result.”
    Relaxing a fraction, he nodded, then gestured to the steaming mugs. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d be having coffee or herbal tea, so I made one of each.”
    Her eyes stung with emotion at his thoughtfulness, but she blinked the moisture away. “Because we don’t know yet, I’ll take the herbal tea.”
    He handed her a peppermint-fragrant mug, his gaze on the stick in her other hand. “Are those tests accurate?”
    â€œThe box says ninety-seven percent.” Fingers still tightly wrapped around the test, she walked to her window seat—her favorite spot in the garden apartment. She’d made cushions from pale pink satin and covered the foam base with a checked rose-pink fabric. She hesitated as it occurred to her that the colors were those in the bunny rug she’d bought for Brianna. Perhaps that’s why this was her favorite place to sit. She folded her legs up underneath her and sipped the tea. She wasn’t even sure where that rug had gone—it’d simply disappeared from her cupboard when she arrived home from the hospital.
    JT dragged a dining chair over and sat within touching