1
As soon as her sisterwalked through the front door, Merritt Valentine knew something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” she blurted out, the troubled expression on Olivia’s face all the permission she needed to full-on panic. “Are you dying?”
For the past few weeks, Olivia had been complaining about feeling off, but it wasn’t until she’d fainted during yoga last weekend that Merritt had started to worry. She’d offered to go with her to the doctor, but Olivia had told her not to bother, so instead, Merritt had spent the afternoon trying—and clearly failing—not to get tangled up in worst-case scenarios.
“Let me get my coat off first, jeez,” said Olivia, with a laugh that seemed genuine enough to make Merritt unclench somewhat.
While Olivia took off her coat and boots by the door, Merritt returned her attention to the sweet potato curry simmeringon the stove, biting her tongue as she practically simmered with anticipation herself.
Olivia eased onto a stool on the other side of the kitchen island, that same distracted look back on her face. Three endless breaths passed before she spoke.
“I’m not dying. Well, not any faster than I should be,” Olivia said, toying with the delicate gold pendant around her neck. She met Merritt’s eyes. “But…I’m pregnant.”
Merritt felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.
Sure, Olivia had talked about wanting a family before, but even though she and Dev had been together since college, Merritt had never heard her mention it in a more concrete way than “someday.” There was always something to do first: finish her PhD, settle into their new house, start a new job, get that promotion. By the time their joint thirty-fifth birthday had passed in February, it had been a long time since Merritt had even heard that vague “someday.” She’d assumed that, for whatever reason, Olivia had changed her mind somewhere along the way.
But there was no ambivalence in the giddy smile spreading across Olivia’s face, so Merritt had no choice but to match it, swallowing the complicated feelings she already felt bubbling up from the pit of her stomach. This didn’t have to be hard. If Olivia was thrilled,shewas thrilled.
Or, at least, she could pretend to be, until she figured out how the fuck she really felt.
“Holy shit.Olivia!”
She dashed around to the other side of the island and wrapped her sister in an affectionate headlock, the closest thing to a hug that was possible with one of them perched on a stool. Olivia choked out a half laugh, half sob, curling her fingers around Merritt’s forearm. Merritt felt tears fill her own eyes, and sheblinked them away. Maybe she wouldn’t have to pretend, after all.
“How do you feel?” she asked, releasing Olivia and returning to the stove.
“Like I’m gonna throw up. Do you think it’s going to be like this the whole time?”
Merritt laughed. “Didn’t Mom say she puked every day until, like, the end of the third trimester?”
It was one of their mother’s favorite grievances to bring up whenever one of them (usually Merritt) had upset her:I spent nine months with my head in a toilet for this,she’d say dryly, either to herself or to whatever third party was watching sympathetically.
Olivia groaned, resting her face in her hands. “Fuck. Why am I doing this again?”
“Because you’re married and in love and want to fill this house with your and Dev’s gorgeous genius offspring?”
Olivia’s laugh was muffled. “Oh yeah.”
“How did this even happen? Did your IUD make a break for it again?”
Even without looking at her, Merritt could sense Olivia stiffening.
“Um, no,” she said, with forced nonchalance. “When I went in last summer to get that taken care of, I actually just had her take it out.”
“Oh.” Merritt tried to ignore the twist in her gut. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Really? I swear, I thought I did.”
Merritt knew that if she glanced back, Olivia’s neck would be splotched red, a telltale sign of lying for both of them. Merritt took a deep breath through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth.
She didn’t tell you because she was worried about your reaction. Don’t prove her right.
She returned her attention to the stove, pinching some salt from the tiny bowl on the counter and sprinkling it over the bubbling pan.
“So, are you going to convert Dev’s office into the nursery?”
