Chapter One
Nellie
* * *
A piece of plastic had never been more intimidating. I stared at those two little pink lines, feeling the very trajectory of my life come to a screeching halt. The blood rushed to my head, and I felt faint. It was a good thing I was still sitting on the toilet. If I’d been standing, I likely would have keeled over.
“What does it say?”
The disembodied voice from the speaker of my phone roused me. I opened and closed my mouth, trying and failing to form words. It was as if my voice had been snatched by Ursula herself.
“Nellie?”
I squeaked. It was the only sound I could make. My free hand went to my mouth, covering it, as tears rushed to my eyes.
“Nellie!” my best friend, Sage, practically shouted.
“I’m—” I still couldn’t say the words. “It’s positive.”
“Oh.”
Whatever Sage had been expecting, it clearly wasn’t this. Me neither.
After being diagnosed with endometriosis in my early twenties, this was a moment I never expected to happen. I’d been told by my gynecologist, endocrinologist, and family doctor that I’d have difficulty conceiving. I’d been warned that if I ever wanted to pursue a pregnancy, the likelihood of me needing fertility treatments was extremely high.
I’d never even had so much as a scare before. But I knew my body well, and I’d known something was up when my period was late. It was never late, much to my chagrin. Most women with endometriosis experience irregular periods, but not me. The damn thing was more predictable than Halley’s comet. It came with vengeance every thirty days, and it often knocked me on my ass for a week straight. My flows were heavy and brutal, and when Aunt Flo hadn’t come pounding on my door eleven days ago, I knew something was up.
I just didn’t expect it to be this. I thought I was finally sliding into the irregular period camp of endometriosis.
“Okay, well, this is good…right? I mean, you always thought you weren’t going to be able to have kids…”
“Good? How is this good? I am so not prepared for this! I work at a café, Sage. I have a roommate—who hates kids, as you know. Not that there’s even space in this place for a kid.” I was panicking. My voice was all screechy and high pitched, and the tears kept flowing no matter how much I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.
Sage knew my roommate, Angela, from when she used to live in Guelph and from her brief stay on my couch with her daughter, Daphne. Angela hadn’t been thrilled with that situation, and despite me wanting to help my bestie in her time of need, I had to respect my roommate’s wishes and cut Sage’s stay short, forcing her to seek refuge at her mother’s house.
“You have a job, though. Which is good for when you apply for maternity. As for the apartment situation, we could find you a new place.”
“I can’t afford a new place, Sage,” I sighed, standing up on shaking limbs. I faced the mirror, taking in my splotchy face and the panicked flush. “Especially not on my own.”
“Do you…do you know who the father is?”
Sage’s question wasn’t meant to sting, but it kind of did. Not that I blamed her. I wasn’t exactly known for monogamous relationships.
I didn’t do serious. I was afraid to trust, afraid to let myself care about people that would inevitably leave once they’d had their fill of me. The only exception to that had been Sage and her beautiful daughter, and I think I’d been able to let her in because of how desperately she’d needed me, too.
It was easier to keep things light and carefree, that way the disappointment couldn’t reach me.
But Sage’s question also stung because…well, I didn’t know. “I’ve narrowed it down to a few contenders.”
“Is one of them Noah, by chance?”
Sage’s follow-up question made a swarm of butterflies take flight in my stomach. Or was that nausea?
One of the contenders was, indeed, Noah Wood, a friend of Sage’s boyfriend from Hartwood Creek. I’d met him at the Witches’ Ball. He’d dressed as The Witcher—my kryptonite. I know I went back to his place with him that night, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember if we’d used a condom when we’d hooked up.
I didn’t remember a lot about that night. Other than how amazing he felt, but for all I knew, that could have been the booze talking. I’d had a lot to drink that night, and so had he. The evening was a blur—a fun, magical blur, but a blur, nonetheless.
“Maybe. I don’t know for sure. Regardless, I’m obviously not in a relationship with any of the contenders. One of them waved every red flag known to mankind and couldn’t even get me off, and the other one, well, I don’t even know him.”
