Jo was unsure. This was a common occurence but still, she was unsure. Did he love her? Was she just a distraction? A bit of T&A between other bits of skirt? Why were men so hard to read? Another woman, no problem. But Turner was worse. He had inner depths other men could drown in. No competition.

 She was sat in the cubicl staring at the test stick. Fuck. That was all her mind could cope with. That and Holy Shit. What was she going to do? Her mind cleared after a while, a long while, and she considered telling Alan. He'd understand. But what if he asked? Oh, God how could she tell him it might be his. Or that it might not be? What a mess. What a fucking mess. Typical, she thought, Typical Jo.

The End

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