Us. | A Joe Jonas FanFiction | Book 3

twenty six.

I sigh, nodding and lifting myself from my chair, stumbling up the stairs breathlessly as it gets worse, almost with each step. I melt into the bed, covering myself with the heavy duvet and letting out a shaky breath.

What the hell is going on?

The bed shifts downward as Joe leans on the bed behind me, checking to see if I have fallen asleep within the past few minutes.

"You okay if I shower first, my love?" Joe asks, moving the hair off of my neck.

I let out another shaky breath, nodding.

"Okay," he whispers, kissing my temple before the bed lifts again and the bathroom door clicks shut.

Even after Joe showers and slides into bed next to me, I find myself unbelievably nauseous, tossing and turning for a while although Joe slips into a comfortable slumber. My breathing remains uneven, deep breaths being my focus to prevent myself from throwing up... although there's nothing to come up anyway. Finally, however, exhaustion seems to kick in, my eyes growing heavy and although my body is uncomfortable, my brain can't help but finally drift into sleep.

My eyes blink a few times as the sun shines into my eyes. We hadn't closed the curtains completely last night and now that my eyes are open, there's no way I'm falling asleep again. The nausea sits faded in my stomach, still there but less agonizing. Sneaking from beneath the covers next to Joe, I quietly sneak into the closet, sliding on a pair of leggings, a tee shirt, and a light jacket on top. I head downstairs, slipping on my sneakers, grabbing the keys to one of the cars, and soon sliding into the driver's seat.

Arriving at the store, I go through the aisles quickly, grabbing what I know we'll use in our time at home before beginning to travel again.

I've never enjoyed coming out to the grocery store. It used to be due to worrying about my so-called father's enemies coming after me. Or even him himself. Now, it's more about the possibility of fans walking up and the paparazzi. The nice fans aren't the problem. It's the fear of having someone like the one at meet and greet walk up. I wouldn't know how to de-escalate that situation. The paparazzi are just annoying, and they try to talk to me. Joe has advised me to only be polite and say hello if I wish to do so. Maybe answer a 'how are you' or something of that sort.

The pink box catches my eye, making me turn quickly and stare for a moment at the plethora of pregnancy tests. What if... what if it's not exhaustion? What if it's... I quickly grab a box, burying it under a few other items to make it less noticeable before going to checkout, paying, and walking to the car as swiftly as I can, throwing the groceries in the car and driving off towards home.

I mean I guess it is a possibility I'm pregnant. It's not like we've been careful. We did agree to just let it happen whenever it happens. But after that negative pregnancy, I didn't think it would happen for a while. I don't know why, I just assumed. I mean, I shouldn't jump to conclusions now either. I'm just nauseous. It's not like I'm having a million symptoms. It's not like I've missed my period. But I shouldn't write it off either. It could come back positive. But it could very well come back negative.

Arriving back at the house, I walk inside, drop the groceries on the counter, and round the corner into the hallway, hearing the loud music blaring from the home gym. I should take the opportunity to do this now. Jogging back to the kitchen, I grab the box and a disposable cup, and quickly make my way upstairs, going into the guest bathroom.

Okay, okay, it's totally possible that it's going to come up as negative and not positive and I need to prepare myself for that. Do I want it to be negative? Do I want it to be positive? I mean, I was so upset when it came back negative last time. So, I want it to be positive right? I mean, is this the time for Joe and I to start our family? He's touring and I'm tagging along so sure I'm there but I'm also trying to get my writing up and running... not that a pregnancy is going to ruin that, I write while traveling with him and it's not like I don't have nine months to write and write and write until the baby comes if there is a baby. Oh my god, what if there's a baby? What if I'm actually pregnant? Is he going to be mad? Is he gonna want me to get rid of it? I mean, would I get rid of it? No. Absolutely not. No. No, Addison. If he's upset, he'll just have to get over it. I mean we may have to spend some time apart or something but he'd get over it and then we'd be fine... right? Oh my god, what if he doesn't want this? What if he changed his mind? What if he's too busy and he's upset because we didn't use protection and now I'm pregnant? You don't even know if you're pregnant, Addison. Breathe. But what if I am? What if I am and he's pissed, and it ruins our marriage and we're screwed? Well, I'd be screwed. He'd be fine. I'd be homeless and pregnant and fending for myself without a job or anything. Should I get a job? Okay, now I'm scared. Do I want to be pregnant? Not to mention all of the things that could go wrong with me and Joe but I'm not fit to be a mom. I've known that forever. I always told Joe I didn't want kids because I really didn't have great role models showing me how to be a great parent so how the hell am I supposed to know what to do? How do I become a mom when I never really had a mom to begin with? One who cared and listened and did everything in her power to make me happy and make sure I was okay. I don't know how to do that. I can't be a mom. How would I be a mom?

The timer alarm makes me jump, bringing me out of my thoughts. I turn off the sound, licking my lips and staring at the upside-down test sitting on the bathroom sink in front of me. I gulp down the lump in my throat, shakingly picking up the test and turning over, slowly.

A gasp escapes my lips, my empty hand immediately moving to cover my mouth as tears well up in my eyes.

Oh my god. Oh my god. It's not real. It's...

I set down the test, quickly opening up the other two, dipping them into the disposable cup and closing the caps, setting them down, and staring blankly at the first, not even noticing as the time passes before the timer goes off yet again. I gulp yet again, flipping the two tests over and yet again losing my breath, gasping. Holding the three in my hands, the cold wall brings a tingle to my back as I slide down the wall, sitting on the floor, staring down at the tests in my hands.

I'm gonna be a mom.

***

all my love,

Shan:)