thirty-nine
LUCY
Aidan did fill me in on his conversation with Emily a few days ago, and as hard as I try to remain neutral about all of it, it’s hard.
Now it’s Sunday morning, and I’m staring at the unopened box on the bathroom counter at my flat. I’ve kept my little ritual of grocery shopping on the rare day off work, but today, I grabbed the test on a whim. The thought I’ve been ignoring for too long won’t leave me alone, and with Emily scheduled to stop by Aidan’s today, I can’t pretend anymore. I need to know. I need some certainty before other people’s choices impact my life again.
My thumb hovers over my phone screen. Finally, with a shaky exhale, I tap Juliette’s name.
She answers on the second ring. “Hey, you! What’s up?”
“I need a favor,” I tell her, my voice cracking a fraction. “A big one.”
“Of course,” she replies without hesitation, concern threading through her tone. “What’s going on?”
How do I even say it out loud? The words wedge in mythroat. The possibility has been whispering at the edges of my mind for days, growing louder with every wave of fatigue, every moment I caught myself wondering. To speak it makes it real. And the second I admit it, I’ll have to face whatever comes next, whether it’s the dream I’ve barely let myself hold onto or the crushing silence of being wrong.
And what if that’s the case? What if the test is negative? I’ll feel ridiculous for hoping, for daring to believe this could be possible. Or worse—will I feel broken all over again? I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I should tuck that particular dream into a box and shove it into some unreachable corner.
And yet…the hope has crept in, anyway.
“I think…I might be pregnant.” The words hang in the air, strange and surreal. “I bought a test, but I can’t…I don’t want to do this alone.”
There’s a brief silence on the other end. “I’ll be right there.”
I haven’t even hung up the phone before I start pacing the small bathroom, my reflection flashing past the mirror with each turn. My heart’s hammering so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, in my temples, everywhere.
Fifteen minutes. That’s how long it will take Juliette to get here.
The box sits there, taunting me. I pick it up, put it down, read the instructions twice more even though I already know them by heart. Two lines mean pregnant. One line means… Well, what it’s always meant for me. A closed door.
I splash cold water on my face, trying to calm myself. What would I even say to Aidan if it’s positive? With Emily suddenly back in the picture, the timing is awful. No, not just awful. Horrendous.
A soft knock at the front door nearly makes me jump out of my skin.
“It’s me,” Juliette calls, her voice muffled throughthe wood.
I open the door with shaky hands. She takes one look at my face and pulls me into a hug. I pull back, suddenly realizing what I’ve done. “Oh goodness, Juliette, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think—the girls. Did I pull you away from them?”
Juliette’s eyes soften as she shakes her head. “Knox has them. They’re fine. He’s building some elaborate pillow fort that will probably take over the entire living room by the time I get back.”
Relief washes over me, but the guilt lingers. “I shouldn’t have called you like this.”
“Stop it,” she says firmly, taking my hands in hers. “This is important, and you can always call me. No, scratch that. Youbetteralways call me.”
Her words bring fresh tears to my eyes. I blink them away, gesturing weakly to the bathroom. “The test is in there. Will you wait in the hall for a second?”
She nods, letting go of my hands to fall into step beside me. Together we move down the narrow hallway until we reach the bathroom. I step inside and close the door behind me.
I could swear the walls are pressing in as I fumble with the box.
I take a deep breath and follow the steps, each second stretching into what feels like hours. When I’m done, I place the test flat on the counter and open the door.
Juliette is leaning against the wall, her face a careful mask of calm, but I can see the concern in her eyes.
“Two minutes,” I whisper, sliding down to sit on the floor, my back against the wall. She joins me, our shoulders touching.
“Whatever happens,” she says softly, “I’m here.”
