The next morning, I’m back at the office early, mostly because I couldn’t sleep. Anxiety was eating away at me all night long, and part of me wishes I could have called Brian last night, but he and Justin were seeing one of Justin’s artsy friends perform in a show uptown, so I didn’t want to bug him, and I definitely didn’t want to call my mom, who would probably be at least a little bit excited about the prospect of a grandchild even though she respects my decision to not reproduce. So she wouldn’t truly understand my disappointment or my fear.

But another part of me wants to keep it to myself -- my little secret -- until I figure out what I’m going to do.

I spent a lot of time surfing the internet last night as I lay in bed, wide awake, Googling all sorts of things about the accuracy of over-the-counter pregnancy tests, mostly coming away with a lot of information that didn’t exactly leave me feeling confident in not being pregnant. I know I need to confirm with a doctor first, but that isn’t keeping my thoughts from running away with me, entertaining all of the what-ifs. Leaving me stuck in the land of panicked hypothetical situations.

I open up the top drawer of my desk, where the offending test resides, wrapped in tissues, all the way in the back, like I’m punishing it for its transgressions. Maybe I am. I don’t even know why I saved it, because it’s not like this is a moment I’m going to want to remember forever. I should have just thrown it away when I tossed the box before I left last night.

I have so many things to think about and consider, but I don’t really want to think about any of them right now, so I decide to stick my head in the proverbial sand and go about my morning as normal, starting off by opening up my email and scanning through the senders and subject lines, determining what needs to be first priority and what can wait. I’m about halfway through my list when I see Brian go by, giving me a cursory wave on the way into his own office. Then, I hear him go into the bathroom, which is unusual for him to do first thing in the morning, but considering that the show they saw last night was at a bar, it’s likely that he had more alcohol than usual, which always seems to fuck with his routine.

I’ve just finished prioritizing, and I’m about to start replying to a message from the Grape & Wine Association when the door that connects my office to the bathroom slowly opens, and Brian is there, with the box to my pregnancy test in his hand. The first thought in my mind is that I’m firing the cleaning crew, because they should have emptied that trash can -- they’d just come in when I left the office, so I know that task should have been completed after I left. My second thought is wondering where the hell I’m going to start when it comes to explaining this to Brian, who is still just sitting in the doorway, looking at me with confusion and surprise, mixed with concern.

There’s no point in even trying to act like it might belong to someone else, because he and I are the only people who have access to that bathroom. I guess I could blame it on the cleaning crew, but that would be stupid, because I know I’ll have to own up to it eventually, since no matter what I decide, it’s likely going to involve some time off, and Brian is going to be more than a little bit suspicious -- not to mention a whole lot hurt -- if I refuse to tell him why.

It’s not like I was planning to keep it from him anyhow, especially if it turns out that I actually am pregnant, but it isn’t exactly first on the list of things I want to discuss this morning.

So I blurt out, “It’s not what it looks like,” instantly realizing exactly how stupid that sounds, because there’s absolutely nothing else it could possibly be. He found a box to a pregnancy test in the garbage; what else is he supposed to think?

Brian’s incredulous look tells me that he’s definitely not buying, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay,” I sigh, looking down at my desk. “Maybe it’s exactly what it looks like.” I pause, and I can see him slowly coming closer out of the corner of my eye, and he opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, because I’m seriously not in the mood for a sarcastic remark right now. “However, it’s none of your fucking business.”

I expect him to get a little bit upset at that, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs and says, “Okay. I just thought you might need a friend.”

“Alright, fuck it,” I say, just as he turns to go. “Brian, wait.”

He stops, and I know this might be against my better judgment because I’m still not sure I’m ready to talk about this, but I’m also not sure how much longer I can delay it. And he’s right; I do need a friend. However, I still don’t know where to begin. So I take a deep breath, stalling while I try to figure it out, but Brian cuts right to the chase.

“Was it positive?”

I nod. “Yeah. I mean, I guess so.”

“You guess so?” Brian looks confused, and I don’t blame him. Hell, I was pretty confused last night too. I still am.

I open the desk drawer and dig around in the back of it for what I know is there, while Brian looks at me like he’s wondering what the heck I’m doing. I find what I’m looking for and unwrap it, but when I hold it out for him to see, he jumps back like I’m holding something repulsive.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, his voice almost comically high-pitched. “Get that thing away from me!”

“For heaven’s sake, Brian,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like I had it in my vagina or anything.”

“Can we not use that word?” Brian visibly shudders, peering at the test that I’m still holding in my hand from what I suppose he deems is a safe distance, while I roll my eyes at how ridiculous he’s being. “So what am I looking for?”

“Right there. That really faint second line.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“You need to come closer.”

“No thanks, I’ll take your word for it.”

“You really are that gay, aren’t you?” I laugh. “It’s just a stick that I peed on. Nothing more.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m asking you to give me a pelvic exam to confirm.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” Brian shudders again, only this time he actually looks like he might be sick.

“Oh my god, seriously?!” Now, I’m laughing even harder. “This, from a guy who regularly sticks things up his husband’s ass? Justin’s right; you really are a queen.”

“Hey, there’s a reason why I told Lindsay I couldn’t be straight, and a big part of that was having no desire to look at snatch ever again.” He’s laughing now too, which for some reason, only makes me laugh harder, until I can hardly breathe -- maybe because seeing Brian genuinely laugh is such a rare sight, even though this time it’s technically at my expense. Despite that, it feels good to laugh, and that makes me wonder if at least part of his over-the-top reaction has been an intentional effort to lighten the mood. However, the lightness is short lived, and soon, my gasps turn into sobs, as the full weight of the situation sinks in.

Slowly, Brian makes his way to my office door and pushes it closed, then turns and comes closer to me, though I can tell he’s not really sure what to do next. I know emotional breakdowns definitely aren’t his forte. The last time I cried in front of him was a long time ago, when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Even back then, I knew I was seeing a totally different side of Brian Kinney -- the one that not many people know about. The one who gives really great hugs and also really hates to see someone he cares about hurting.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out and gently taking my hand. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not." Tears are still cascading down my cheeks, and my voice is thick with emotion, but there's nothing I can do about it. "No fucking way is it going to be okay.”

“We’ll figure it out. I'll help you figure it out.”

“Brian, you can’t fix this. You can’t just wave a fucking magic wand and make it not so.”

“I can try.” I look up at him, and he’s got that goofy grin on his face, and I know he’s trying to make me laugh again, but this time, it’s not going to work. I can’t seem to stop the tears, and suddenly all of the anxiety I felt last night comes flooding back -- all of the questions I kept asking myself about what would be the right decision for me and my life, that would also be a decision I could live with for the rest of it.

Brian seems to sense the shift in me, because I feel him let go of my hand, but a second later, he's pulling me into one of those really great hugs, and he doesn't let go until the tears have stopped and my breathing has returned to normal.

However, I don't really feel any better, or any less anxious.

"So, do I need to go kill that Rich bastard?"

I look at him, expecting to see that grin again, but the look on his face is dead serious. “No,” I say. “It’s not his fault.”

“How the hell is it not his fault? He’s the one who can’t keep his dick to himself.”

“Brian, come on. It’s not like him fucking other guys makes his sperm more virile or something.” I pause and take a deep breath, then decide to come clean. “Actually, it might not be his.”

I tell Brian the story of my one-night stand with Mr. Attractive-Enough -- the one I’m now regretting more than I’ve ever regretted anything in my life -- while he just listens, nodding occasionally. It’s not usually like him to go this long without inserting his opinion, but I’m thankful that he isn’t.

When I'm finished, his first question is exactly the one I keep asking myself: "But… if you are pregnant… how? I know you don’t take chances."

I shrug, but I don't say anything.

"Wait… He didn't…" I can tell Brian doesn't want to finish that sentence, but I know what he's getting at, and that much is clear from the deep concern that has suddenly overtaken his features.

"No." I shake my head vehemently and look Brian square in the eye so he knows there's absolutely no question as to what took place that night, even though we were both pretty drunk. "I wanted it. We both did."

"But I know you. I know you're always careful."

"And we were that night too.” I look down as my fingers find their way to a loose paperclip on the surface of my desk and start fidgeting with it -- a nervous habit I’m sure I’ve picked up from Brian over the years. But it’s a nice distraction. “Who knows, maybe the condoms in my purse were too old. Usually the guys have them, but he didn't, so we used one of mine. But I haven't needed them in a while."

"I'll spare you Justin's public service announcement about how condoms can become brittle with age."

"That's probably a good idea, unless you want to be punched.” I look up at Brian, and I can see the mischievous glint in his eyes, though he thankfully doesn’t say anything further. “Trust me, lesson learned. So it could be Rich’s, but it could be this other guy’s. I honestly don’t know. But it doesn’t matter anyway. If I am pregnant, I do know I’m not keeping it. But, other than that... I don’t know.” Those three words seem to be the theme of my thoughts for the past twelve hours.

“Too bad Ted and Blake aren’t in the market for another. Michael and Ben might be interested though.”

“Christ, Brian, you’re making it sound like I’m selling something.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be?”

“No, Brian. We’re not talking about a used car. As much as I don’t want a child, and as much as I don’t even really like them, you can’t sell children.”

“I guess that’s a good thing, otherwise Pop probably would have sold me on the street corner for a bottle of scotch.”

“Brian, that’s not funny. I know what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it, but this is just…” I let my voice trail off for a moment before I continue. “It sucks.”

“I know.” Brian looks down and starts picking at one of his fingers. “I’m sorry.” After a moment, he looks back up at me, his concern clear in his eyes. “So… if you are... What do you think you’ll do? I know you said you’re not keeping it, but...”

“...there are other options, I know.”

I’m well aware of what my other option is, besides adoption -- to terminate the pregnancy. The trouble is, now that I’m confronted with the possibility, I’m not sure I could do it. I definitely support every woman’s right to choose, but when it comes to choosing to do it myself, there are a lot of thoughts running through my head that I never thought I’d have. I’d never judge anyone else for making the decision that’s right for them, whatever it is, but honestly, I’m not sure I’d be able to live with the result of that particular decision for the rest of my life.

But on the other hand, would I be willing to carry it to term, even with the intent of giving it up for adoption?

I don't know. I honestly don't. But I do know I'll have to do a lot of soul searching to find out.

"Maybe you should take another test… just to be sure," Brian says, and I can tell by the look on his face that he’d like just as much as I would for this particular test to be wrong.

"Buying this one was bad enough.” I huff out a sardonic laugh. “The cashier's lucky I kept my mouth shut. No way am I doing that again."

"I'll do it,” Brian says earnestly. “I'll get it for you.”

Now, I know Brian, and I've heard the story about him going out and buying pads for Rob and Adam's daughter Esme, and I know how pissed off he gets when people think he's straight, so I know him volunteering to go buy a pregnancy test, risking people assuming he's the father, even… That's big. But I'm not asking him to do that.

"I'm not sure I’d trust it, to be totally honest, so I’ll pass. But thanks,” I say, giving Brian a smile that I hope conveys my sincere appreciation for his willingness to make himself uncomfortable on my behalf. Actually, I can tell by his posture and his facial expression that he’s a little bit uncomfortable even having this conversation, but he’s not making any move to leave me hanging or cut me off. He’s staying, and he’s listening, and that means more to me than I’m sure he’ll ever realize.

"So… what now?"

"I guess I’m making a doctor’s appointment. Find out for sure, for better or for worse,” I sigh. “I think I still can't believe this is happening to me, of all people."

“Well, if it turns out you are, whatever you need… I’ll cover you.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that. This is my mess, not yours.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Lord knows you’ve saved my ass enough times over the years. You keep telling me how we’re a team here -- a family. I might not know a whole lot about functional families, but I do know they support each other. So, whatever I can do… time off, a shoulder to cry on, a drink… Just tell me, and consider it done.”

“I’ll pass on the drink,” I chuckle. “Being that I might be pregnant and all.”

“Shit. See, I suck at this.”

“No you don’t.” I can’t help but smile as I think about how lucky I am that we met all those years ago working for Marty Ryder, because I can’t imagine working for -- or being friends with -- anybody else. “You’re actually pretty good at it. Just promise me you won’t take out a hit on Rich or anybody else.”

“If I have to.”

“We can’t have you going to prison on my account.” I let out a chuckle and shake my head. “Justin would kill me.”

“Just don’t ask me to… check anything… down there.”

“Jesus Christ, Brian.” I’m back to laughing, and I’m wondering if he’s being ridiculous on purpose again, but this time, I’ll take it. It’s a nice reprieve. “Just what the hell do you think the husbands of straight pregnant women do?”

“Fuck if I know! I’m married to a man, and he doesn’t have a uterus.”

“You have a child, for god’s sake. It’s not like you’ve never been around a pregnant woman before.”

“Yeah, but Melanie took care of all that. I just showed up at the hospital -- late.”

“Because you were busy meeting your soulmate,” I smile.

“Or jerking him off and making him come all over my new duvet.” Brian smirks, taking my sappy observation and turning it into a joke, as he’s always been prone to do when things get a little too ‘real.’ However, his expression quickly turns serious again. “But, I meant what I said. I’m here for you, no matter what. I promise you won’t be alone in this. I’ll be here the whole way, if you’ll have me. If you want me to be.”

I reach out for Brian’s hand and squeeze it, grateful to have someone like him in my corner, and to know the person he really is, underneath the surface. “Of course I’ll have you,” I say, as I look into his eyes and I see all of the things there that most people don’t see -- the selflessness and the sincerity and genuine caring that are part of the man I’m proud to call my friend and my business partner. “I wouldn’t want anybody else.”