by Street, K.
With every mile that passed, the reality of my situation weighed more heavily on me. I barely had any money in savings, and I had been at my new job less than a year. Not to mention, my boss was a jackass. By the time the baby was born, I might still have a job to go back to, but I wouldn’t get paid for maternity leave. I didn’t have a plan or a place of my own. Not that I could afford one. What I paid Paige in rent was next to nothing. If it wasn’t for her, I would be up shit creek without a paddle.
I didn’t have a mother to lean on.
The only thing I did have was my sheer stubborn will, and so far, it had served me well.
* * *
Paige clicked off the television as soon as I walked in the door. She turned to look at me, expectation on her face.
I dropped my overnight bag and purse on the floor next to the couch and then took a seat. “I didn’t tell him.”
“What?” she practically yelled. “What do you mean, you didn’t tell him, Molls?”
“It’s not like he gave me a chance.” My tone held a defensive edge. “What was I supposed to do, just blurt it out?”
“Yes. Exactly that.” She patted the cushion next to her. “What the hell happened?”
I filled her in on everything, not just about my trip to Maplewood Falls, but also on other details I’d previously left out about my and Easton’s relationship. Like how I’d broken up with him and the things I’d said to him the morning after we slept together in Atlanta.
Paige sat quietly, absorbing my words before she finally spoke, “You can’t really fault him for his reaction.”
My mouth dropped open. “Whose side are you on?”
“Believe it or not, Molly, I’m on your side …” Her voice trailed off.
I could tell she was biting her tongue. “Just say it. Whatever it is you’re thinking, you might as well spit it out. Holding back isn’t your style.”
“You keep people at arm’s length, and when they get too close, you either cut them off at the knees or you run.” She gestured toward my stomach. “You’re having Easton’s baby. You can’t run from that.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I snapped and then instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry.”
“The truth hurts, sister. I promise I’m not trying to be a bitch, but you can’t blame the man.”
“Just because I broke his heart—”
“Girl, you didn’t break his heart. This isn’t high school. You ripped his heart out of his damn chest with your bare hands and stomped on it. Then, you kicked it into traffic. During rush hour.”
“Okay”—I held up my hands, palms out—“I get it.”
“Do you regret it? Getting pregnant, I mean.”
I thought about her question and felt the fluttering in my belly. “No. Not for a single second.”
“You have to tell him.”
“I know, and I will. Soon,” I promised.
Eight
Molly
It had been five weeks since I made the trip to Maplewood Falls. I had called Easton once since then, but he never picked up. He still hadn’t returned my call. Of course, I hadn’t told him about the baby when I left the voice mail either.
That was why I was at my ultrasound appointment with my best friend instead of the father of my child.
Paige practically bounced with excitement as she stood beside the exam table where I lay.
The ultrasound tech rolled my shirt to my breasts and then lowered my leggings a bit, tucking a soft, disposable cloth into the waistline. She reached for the bottle of gel. “This is going to be cold.”
The container made a squishing sound, and goose bumps rose on my skin as the goopy substance met my protruding belly. She replaced the bottle and then picked up a wand-looking object before rolling it over my stomach.
Grainy white images popped up on the monitor, and the sound of the baby’s galloping heartbeat filled the room. Warmth spread through me.
Paige gasped. “Oh my God. It’s so fast.”
The tech laughed. “It is. But it’s perfectly normal.” She took some measurements, pointed out the baby’s spine and limbs, and then asked, “Do you want to know the gender?”
“No,” I answered. I didn’t even need to think about it.
“Wait, what? You really don’t want to know?” Paige’s face was tinged with a mix of shock and disappointment.
I wasn’t sure why finding out the gender without Easton felt wrong. It just did.
I turned my attention to the tech. “Can you just write down the sex and put it in an envelope or something?”
“Certainly. All the moms are doing that these days.” She laughed.
The look on her face told me she assumed I was one of those moms. The kind with visions of Pinterest-worthy gender reveals dancing in their eyes. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Thanks.”
When the tech was finished documenting everything, she wiped the goo off my belly and printed out a few sonogram pictures. “You can finish getting cleaned up. I’ll be right back with the envelope,” she stated, giving me a paper towel to take care of any gel she had missed.
When the door closed behind her, I finished cleaning up, got off the table, adjusted my clothes, and tossed the towel.
“What’s going on, Molls? You hate surprises.” She knew me so well.
“I know. It’s just … Easton still doesn’t know.”
Paige gave me a look, and I held up my hands in surrender.
“I’m going to tell him.” I turned away from her, not wanting to see the judgment in her eyes. “Finding out the gender without East seems like some sort of betrayal. He’s missing everything. Part of me thinks I shouldn’t feel a damn bit guilty, but then there’s the part of me that knows I should’ve tried harder to tell him. I’m being ridiculous.”
“No, you’re not. Despite his recent assholery, Easton is a great guy. He deserves to know the truth.” She pointed to my expanding midsection. “It’s not like you can hide it.”
She was right. I grabbed the sonogram pictures from the counter, staring at the black-and-white image on top. I used my index finger to trace the baby’s profile.
Paige slipped her arm around me, giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze. “It’s all going to work out. You’ll see.”
“Thanks,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye. “Ugh. Stupid hormones.”
There was a light knock on the door before it opened. In walked the ultrasound tech with a white envelope that had been taped shut.
She smiled, and she extended her hand, holding the secret. “Here you go. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” I took it from her, and as she exited the room, I passed the envelope to Paige. “Why don’t you hold on to this?”
Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yay,” she exclaimed, taking it from me and sliding it into her purse.
“No peeking,” I ordered.
“I won’t, I promise.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to run. I have a conference call with my father in an hour.”
Paige worked for her family’s company, Abbott Resort Enterprises, an upscale hotel and resort chain. Her family was kind, down-to-earth, and humble. Since the first time she’d brought me home from college, they had treated me as one of their own. You’d never know they had enough money to buy a small country or three.
“No worries. I need to get going, too.”
We walked to the parking lot, and after a brief hug, we went our separate ways. After I hit the drive-through of Wendy’s for lunch, I headed back to my job at the small engineering firm where I basically worked as a glorified coffee runner despite my college degree.
Just as I sat down at my desk, my boss’s voice snapped through the intercom. “Ms. Davenport, I’d like to see you in my office, please.”
Shit.
I pressed the button on the interoffice phone. “Yes, sir.” My desk chair squeaked as I pushed it back
and walked down the hall to Mr. Conway’s office.
Tapping lightly on the door, I twisted the knob and walked inside. “You wanted to see me?”
The sunlight bounced off Royce Conway’s bald head as he lifted his gaze from the papers strewed over his desk and gestured to the two stacks of files sitting on the corner. “Those”—he pointed to the smaller stack on the left—“need to be filed.” His plump index finger indicated the other much larger pile. “Everything here needs to be entered into spreadsheets by end of day on Friday.”
I did my best to keep my expression neutral but … holy shit. “Tomorrow is Friday, Mr. Conway.”
“So it is.” He chuckled. “I’ll be out of the office tomorrow. I suggest you get started.”
I walked over to his desk, grabbed the smaller of the two stacks, and set them horizontally on top of the vertical ones. Carefully, I lifted them into my arms, leaning backward a bit to balance the load.
When I reached the doorway, Mr. Conway said, “Don’t forget to close the door, Ms. Davenport.”
“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Mr. Conway.” I exited his office, dropped the load of files on my desk, and went back to close his door.
I plopped back into my desk chair, a wave of nausea rolling through me. I was starving. Since I’d gotten pregnant, if I waited too long to eat, it always made me sick. Ignoring the files, I dug into my loaded baked potato. It had taken some sweet-talking in the drive-through and I’d had to pay a little extra, but it was so worth it. A spud topped with crispy bacon, butter, tangy sour cream, warm cheese sauce, and extra jalapeño slices, tasted like heaven. Normally, I wasn’t a fan of spicy food. Easton loved it, and I wondered if being pregnant with his baby somehow influenced my recent cravings.
Paige’s words from earlier spun in my head.
“He deserves to know the truth. It’s not like you can hide it.”
I wiped my hands on a napkin, twisted the cap off the bottle of water, and brought it to my lips, resisting the urge to chug it. Then, I set it aside and picked up the phone.
“Good afternoon. Chadwick Designs and Development,” Helen answered.
“Hi, Helen. It’s Molly.” My mouth went dry.
Am I really doing this?
“Molly, are you there?”
“I-I’m here.” My voice cracked. “Can I speak with Easton?”
“Hold on just a second, and I’ll get him for you.”
I waited with bated breath for Easton’s voice to come on the line. I had no idea how he was going to react or what I was going to say.
“Molly? I’m afraid he just stepped out.”
Only I hadn’t needed to worry about the details at all.
This is un-fucking-believable.
She was lying. He was there, and I knew it. Anger flared inside me.
“Would you like to leave a message?” Helen sweetly asked.
A message. Do I want to leave a message? Hell yes, I’d like to leave a message! Tell him he’s an asshole and to go fuck himself. Then, tell him I’m pregnant and that he’s the baby daddy.
“No. No message. Thanks, Helen.” I hung up the phone before she could say good-bye.
This time, I was too pissed to feel the sting of rejection.
Easton had made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with me. So, I was done. Done trying to tell him about the baby. Done trying to do the right thing. Once the baby was born, I’d drive to Maplewood Falls and show up on Easton’s doorstep with his son or daughter in tow. Until then, he could fuck right off.
Nine
Molly
Six Weeks Later
With every passing week, my waistline expanded. When I wasn’t working, I read every single pregnancy and parenting book I could get my hands on. The jury was still out on whether those books were actually helpful. Reading them just caused me to worry about a million things I hadn’t even known I should be worried about.
Breast or bottle? Both?
What about nipple confusion? Is the nipple confused or the baby?
Cloth diapers or disposable?
Birth follows a plan?
What if I have a boy? Do I circumcise or leave his teeny peen alone?
I swore my head was going to explode. Someone needed to stop me from Googling all the things.
“Hello? Earth to Molly.”
I sat at the breakfast bar while Paige stood across from me in our kitchen. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Her worried gaze roamed over my face.
She had asked me that same question at least a hundred times over the last three days. Abbott Resort Enterprises had broken ground on their first London location last year, and the grand opening was on the horizon. Paige’s father had appointed her to oversee all the things and requested she stay on for a few weeks to make sure it went smoothly. She had been freaking out about leaving me alone ever since she got the news.
Paige didn’t know about the dizzy spells I’d been having because I didn’t want to worry her. According to Google, it was within the range of normal. I already felt like a burden, and I didn’t want to add to her concern.
“I’m pregnant, not dying. Stop being such a worrywart. I will be fine.” Wanting to shift the focus back to her, I asked, “Did you finish packing yet?”
She rolled her eyes. “Girl, in the six years we’ve been best friends, have you ever known me not to wait until the last minute?”
“Truth, but you’re leaving tomorrow. I’m pretty sure this is last minute.”
“Ugh. I know; I know.”
I pushed off the stool. “I’ll be right back.”
As I got up, the doorbell sounded.
“That must be dinner,” Paige announced.
“Thank goodness. I’m starved.”
I went to the bathroom while Paige dealt with the food delivery. Then, we settled on the couch with our dinner and cued up Gilmore Girls on Netflix. Thankfully, we were both Team Logan all the way; otherwise, I might have had to question our friendship.
Leaning forward, I set my empty food container on the coffee table. “One more episode, and then we have to clean up and get you packed,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, yeah.”
I pushed off the couch. “You’ll thank me when you land in London and don’t have to shop for new knickers.”
“Whatever,” she huffed.
“I’m going to get some more water. Do you want anything?”
“I’m good. Thanks though.”
I gathered my glass along with the trash. I went into the kitchen and threw away the empty containers before crossing the space to the refrigerator. Overcome with dizziness, I reached out to grip the edge of the counter with my free hand, missing it completely as the room began to spin. The edges of my vision clouded, and then everything went black.
Ten
Paige
The sound of glass shattering, followed by a thud, yanked my attention from the television.
“Molly!” I jumped up from the couch and ran into the kitchen to find my best friend on the floor, passed out and blood seeping from her forearm, surrounded by broken glass. “Oh my God! Molly!” I knelt beside her, shaking her shoulder. “Molly! Molly, wake up.”
She didn’t move.
“Oh my God.” Panic filled my entire body. I ran back into the living room and grabbed my cell off the coffee table. My hands shook as I dialed 911.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“Um, my friend. Sh-she’s pregnant. I think she might have hit her head.”
“Okay. What’s your address?”
“Uh, 212 West Fullerton Avenue.”
Rapid tapping sounded through the line.
“What’s your name?”
“Paige. Paige Abbott.”
“Is your friend conscious?”
“No.”
“Is she breathing?”
I w
atched Molly’s chest rise and fall. “Yes. She’s breathing.”
“You said your friend is pregnant? Do you know how far along she is?”
“Um. Twenty-six weeks, I think. I don’t know. Please hurry.”
“Paige, just try to remain calm. Help is on the way.”
The wail of sirens hit my ears.
“I hear them. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t hang up, Paige. Stay on the line with me.”
“Okay.” I glanced down at Molly and then toward the living room window. Relief filled me when I saw the flashing lights.
“They’re here,” I told the dispatcher as I made my way to the door and opened it.
“All right, Paige. They’ll take it from here. You can hang up now.”
I stood back as the team of four EMTs came through the door with the gurney.
“She’s in the kitchen.”
I followed behind them, standing off to the side, out of the way.
Please be okay.
Please be okay.
I brought my hand up to my mouth, curling my index finger over my lip, and began biting my nail.
“Ma’am, I need to ask you a few questions,” a deep voice spoke, but I didn’t look up from where his colleagues tended to Molly.
The medics put a brace on her neck to stabilize it before lifting her onto the stretcher and securing her.
A large, warm hand touched my shoulder. “Ma’am?”
This time, I looked up, meeting chocolate brown eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Paige.”
“All right, Paige. I’m Troy. How about you take a seat for me?” He pulled out one of the stools from the breakfast bar.
Moving on autopilot, I did what he’d asked.
“Good. Now, can you tell me what happened?”
“I-I don’t know. We were watching TV. Molly got up to get a glass of water. I came running when I heard the glass shatter, and I found her on the floor.”
