“No,” he said, too quickly, but probably not for the reason she thought. “There’s no one.” It came out more forlorn than he’d meant it to, and concern knitted her brow as she looked at him.
“Okay,” she said, a little skeptical. “Are you—”
Just then, the front door burst open, Alex and Lydia crashing through, laughing and talking at the top of their lungs, and Niko tried to ignore the disappointment rippling over him that their conversation was cut short.
It was only a passing feeling, though. Mostly, he felt nothing short of euphoric that his mother had agreed to come with him.
Even if the trip was a disaster, even if they didn’t make up, it didn’t matter. He’d been brave enough to be honest about how he felt, and she’d listened to him. She’dheardhim. He’d be riding this high for a long time.
At least, that was what he thought. But it faded the instant he realized that the only person he wanted to share it with was Merritt.
35
When Merritt looked back atthe pictures from the baby shower, it seemed like it went pretty well—a living room full of women talking, laughing, eating, and bombarding Olivia with love. She had absolutely zero memory of any of it, though. Olivia also had a dazed, distant expression at first, but by the end, she was grinning from ear to ear, eyes shining with tears.
After all the presents had been opened, Merritt ducked away to the bathroom to look up the rate of false positive pregnancy tests. Less than 1 percent.
She sat on the toilet, seat down, her head in her hands, a soft buzz filling her brain until she was startled by a knock on the door.
The party went so long into the evening that their mother actually made it before it was over. Olivia burst into tears as soon as she walked in the door, and Merritt fought not to do the sameat her reaction. When everyone else had finally gone home, Merritt refused their offer of help with the cleanup, shooing them upstairs to rest and talk without her—which was probably for the best on a number of levels.
She moved through the house robotically, putting wrapping paper in a trash bag, gathering stray balloons, and stacking dirty plates in the sink, her mind moving in a million directions at once.
Of course she had to tell him.
But then she’d be the worst cliché of an unstable ex, popping back up with an unexpected pregnancy. She had no doubt he’d do the honorable thing: move back to a place where he saw no future, return to a relationship he’d already moved on from, for the sake of a child he didn’t want.
She couldn’t have this baby. She couldn’t.
So why did the thought of ending the pregnancy fill her with the kind of preemptive loss she’d never felt for a moment with her first one? Her heart ached at the prospect of severing her last link to him, the proof that she’d had him and loved him, if only for a brief moment.
That’s not a good enough reason,she reminded herself.A child is not a Band-Aid, or a souvenir.
She pulled out her phone and stared at it for a long moment.
Maybe she should wait to do anything until she’d confirmed that last 1 percent.
Once the dishwasher was running and all the stray clutter was picked up, Merritt stood in the center of the living room, feeling like something vital had melted down in her brain, leaving her unable to move.
Eventually, she found herself drifting toward the soft voices upstairs. Olivia’s door was open, and she and her mother were sitting side by side on the bed. Merritt wasn’t sure what she’dexpected, but she was relieved to see Olivia laughing. They both looked up at the sound of her footsteps, and Olivia held out her arm in a wordless invitation.
Merritt met her mother’s eyes and hesitated.
This wouldn’t change anything between them. But she only had one mom, and right now, she happened to be there exactly when she needed some comforting.
Merritt curled up on her mother’s other side, something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl.
“Can I have back scratches?” she murmured, a request she also hadn’t made in decades, her voice high and small, like she really had traveled back through time to ask.
She didn’t contribute to their conversation much, just lay there listening, eyelids drooping, the exhaustion of the day crashing over her, lulled into a sleepy trance by the familiar sound of their voices and her mother’s nails gently grazing up and down her back.
Luckily, she had to waitonly a few days before she could get in with her gynecologist in Silverton. She sat on the table, Band-Aid in the crook of her arm, shivering in her backless gown and jumping every time she heard footsteps in the hall.
After what felt like hours, there was a knock at the door, and her doctor came striding in, a tall, broad, no-nonsense woman whose straight-to-business style Merritt generally appreciated.
“Well, we got the results from your blood test,” she said, flipping through Merritt’s chart, “and it looks like you’re not pregnant.”
Today was the one day that Merritt could’ve used a slightly gentler bedside manner.
