I shake my head, tears still slipping down my cheeks.
“No, Aidan, you didn’t upset me,” I manage to say. “It’s just… I never thought I’d hear those words. I love her so much,” I whisper.
I never would have forced myself into that role for her. Not unless it was something they both truly wanted.
“What… What did you tell her?” I ask. “How doyoufeel about that?”
“I told her you take care of her like a mother would, but I didn’t say more than that. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“I’m not sure what to say to that,” I admit softly. “I don’t want to overstep…”
He doesn’t look away, his eyes soft and patient, waiting for me to continue.
“I just don’t want to do anything that might confuse herwhen she’s already going through so much,” I add. “But I do care for her. So much.”
“I know you do,” he says, reaching out to touch my arm gently. “And she knows that, too. You’ve shown up for her in ways I could never have asked for.”
I want to tell him that I’d love to be that person for Isla, that I can already picture us building a family. I want to tell him about the baby. The little one who’s going to make Isla a big sister.
The words are stuck in my throat, tangled up in the fear of how he’ll react and how everything will change. Because thingswillchange.
That dreaded wave of queasiness hits me. My stomach churns violently, and I gasp for air, my hand flying to my mouth. The world tilts, my body betraying me with the unmistakable feeling of sickness that surges up my throat.
I stumble into the bathroom on unsteady legs. I almost don’t make it in time, dropping to my knees as the wave of nausea crashes over me. I clutch the edge of the porcelain, my body trembling, but through it, I feel Aidan behind me. His hand lands gently on my back, rubbing small, soothing circles.
“Jesus, baby. Are you all right?” His voice is soft but thick with concern, the worry in it clear as day.
I nod weakly, too dizzy to speak, as another surge of nausea drags me down. I close my eyes, willing myself to breathe through it. When it finally eases, I reach up to flush before slumping against the wall, every muscle trembling with exhaustion.
I almost laugh. This is the second time today I’ve found myself sitting on the floor near or in a bathroom.
Aidan reaches for a damp washcloth and presses it into my hand, his touch lingering for a moment before he pulls back. Ipress the cloth to my forehead, the coolness against my skin a small comfort.
“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice shaky.
He sinks to one knee beside me, eyes locked on mine, every line of his face etched with worry. The crease in his brow deepens as he studies me. “What’s going on? You’ve been off for a while now.”
I take a shaky breath. The cool tiled wall presses against my spine, supporting me as I try to find the words. This isn’t how I imagined telling him.
His eyes search mine, pleading for an answer I’m not ready to give. My throat tightens as I swallow back the truth that’s pushing to break free.
God, I’m terrified. He’s already dealing with Emily, with Isla’s confusion, and trying to keep their little world from falling apart. Now this?
I press the cool cloth to my neck, buying myself a few more seconds. I rehearsed this moment a dozen different ways in my head throughout the day, but never like this.
I can’t bear the thought of watching shock and panic, or worse, disappointment wash over his face.
“Lucy.” His voice is firm but gentle, pulling me from my spiral. “Talk to me.”
I meet his eyes, finding nothing but love there. No judgment, no impatience. Just Aidan, waiting for me to trust him with whatever’s weighing on me.
A bubble of hysterical laughter suddenly escapes my lips. It bursts out of me,completelyinappropriate for the moment, and I can’t seem to stop it. The laughter keeps coming, making my shoulders shake as tears spring to my eyes.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out between gasps of laughter, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I’m actually pregnant.”
Aidan stares at me in stunned silence. His eyes widen, lips parting as if to speak but finding no words. The seconds stretch into what feels like hours. I can’t breathe, and yet, I can’t tear my gaze away from him.
“You’re…” His voice falters, the sentence dying on his lips as he searches my face for the courage to finish it.
