Not surprisingly, Charlette stuck to her guns, as she once more refused any assistance from him.  Paul admired her for this, and he was neither hurt nor angry at her rejection.  Some would call it stubbornness.  He just smiled and watched as she used the sink for support.<br/><br/>The “beep beep” from the device sounded minor, but they both knew it carried major implications.<br/><br/><i>Here we go, Old Man.  Let’s rock –n- roll!</i><br/><br/>Paul stared at her with a keen interest as she picked up the at-home test, gauging what might be going through her head.  Charlette’s poker face revealed nothing, however.  What might be going through his head?  He felt his heart rate increase slightly, so there’s your answer.<br/><br/><i>Hush little baby, don’t you cry. . . .</i><br/><br/>Not even funny, and since when did he sing?!<br/><br/>Charlette knew the result first, which was only fair.  Again, her expression gave nothing away, though a few tears did form in her eyes.  He frowned slightly at that, assuming the worst.  She handed it to him in silence, and as he glanced at it while taking it from her, the word “negative” shoulda been accompanied by bells and whistles.  Or maybe not.<br/><br/>To Paul, she seemed to stumble over what she said next.  Something about “congratulations” and “both of us” and “relief.”  She sure didn’t sound relieved, at least not to him.  And what was up with her tears?<br/><br/><i>Jesus H., Old Man!  Do I have to draw you a fucking picture?!</i><br/><br/>Just prior to her reaching for the other testing kits, Paul stood in front of her, slowly wrapping her in an embrace.  He hugged her tightly, while not one word escaped his lips.