“What?” Wren shrieks, launching off the couch so fast her wine nearly sloshes out of the glass.
“You’re pregnant?” Brody yelps, eyes bugging.
“Holy shit,” Eric says, sitting up straight.
Iris comes in for a hug that threatens to cut off my circulation.
“How far along?” Jonah asks.
“Almost six months,” I say.
“Six months?” they all echo, eerily harmonic.
“Have you been hiding under baggy sweaters this wholetime?” Wren demands. “Is that why you ‘suddenly discovered’ the joys of oversized blazers?”
“Yes,” I say.
Jonah recovers first. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
The question is gentle, not accusatory. That somehow makes it worse.
“Because I’m terrified,” I admit. “I haven’t told FlixPix yet. I’m scared it’ll ruin everything. That they’ll find a way to push me out, even if they don’t say it’s because of this.” I gesture toward my stomach. “I wanted to prove myself first. Show them I can handle the room, the workload, the insanity. I thought if I got a couple of months in, it would be harder to let me go.”
The room quiets.
“When are you going to tell them?” Jonah asks.
“After the new year,” I say. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hide it much longer, and by then they’ll have seen what I can do.”
Eric nods slowly. “I get that. Lead with the work, not the thing they’ll use to make you seem ‘difficult.’”
“I just didn’t want anything to make them question hiring me,” I say. “Or make them think I’m not all in because I have this other…massive life thing happening. I’ve waited my whole career for this shot. I can’t lose it.”
“You’re not going to lose it,” Wren says, coming around the coffee table. She’s still wide-eyed, but the edge has softened to something almost fierce. “And for the record, we are mildly offended that you didn’t tell us you were growing a person in there, but we will shove our hurt feelings down because we love you.”
“Deeply hurt,” Brody says, hand over his heart. “But also sobbing with joy on the inside.”
Jonah looks at me like he’s trying to figure out how I’ve been standing upright with this much weight on my shoulders. “We won’t say anything,” he says. “Not to anyone. Room’s a vault.”
Everyone nods.
Iris gives me another squeeze. “Congratulations,” she whispers. “Really. This is huge. Both things. The show and the baby.”
“Thanks,” I say, hugging her back.
We ease back into conversation, but everything feels a little different now. Lighter. As the night winds down, people start gathering their things, slipping leftovers into foil, hugging goodbye near the door while Mariah Carey serenades us in the background.
By the time I get home, my feet ache, my back is threatening mutiny, and my brain is buzzing with story beats and production calendars. I change into one of Jake’s T-shirts and a pair of soft shorts, plug my phone in on the nightstand, and collapse onto my bed. The house is quiet, just the faint hum of traffic outside and the soft glow of the Christmas tree coming from the living room.
My phone buzzes.
Jake
Hope you had a good night with your writers’ group. Sleep well.
I stare at the screen. I miss him. I thought giving us a little space would reset how I’m feeling, but I don’t think it’s working.In fact, I think I want him more than before. And if I’m being honest, I can’t believe he’s still here. Still checking in. Still being patient, even though I’ve given him every reason to back away.
Natalie
