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CHLOE

It’s nothing. There will be nothing there. I played out the worst-case scenario in my brain. Usually when we scanned mares for the signs of pregnancy, I stood with bated breath as the vet checked them one-by-one for a first heartbeat. In this case, I was certain it was all wrong. Now, looking at the image, I knew better.

As a heartbeat flashed on the ultrasound screen and I was given a due date of June 28th, I couldn’t ignore the reality of my situation. It felt real. Now, there was no turning back. Two days ago in an office in New York, I vowed to keep it as its happy host if all was well.

I chose this child in a meeting with my publisher—fighting the rising bile—while she said they loved my third book idea so much that they wanted me to swap release dates and get them a final draft of book 3 by February. They also told me I needed to do more cowboy collabs. As the world spun, I wanted to hold on for dear life and avoid making any more life-changing decisions or hearing any earth-shattering news.

That fantasy lasted until I was informed on my one night back in Illinois, I would attend family dinner. Thankfully, my mother's forced invitation allowed me a plausible reason to avoid Cole's dinner request. And thanks to my doctor giving me some anti-nausea meds for my so-called “geriatric pregnancy”, I felt well enough to eat.

At my family’s house, I found Cal and Daphne in the kitchen. The kids ran about screaming. Mom, somehow, never complained. She would have beaten us for such behavior, but the grandkids thankfully got a pass. They were the center of her universe. I hoped it boded well for my little human-in-utero.

“Tell them your news!” Mom said as I helped myself to a Coke.

I spun, confused and worried.

“Don’t look so freaked out,” Cal laughed. “God, Mom, please calm down.”

“I’m just… I’m so excited!”

It was Cal’s news. I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded for him to go on.

“Oh, uh, well, I’m forming an exploratory committee,” Cal said. “It’s not anything yet. We’re just testing the waters.”

“For what?” I asked, confused.

“The Presidency,” Daphne said, bursting with pride, too.

“There are positive discussions about my candidacy within the DNC,” Cal said. “But that’s all it is.”

“Congrats!” I braced on the counter for support.

“And that means, young lady, you better keep your nose clean.” Mom crossed her arms.

I’d been called young lady and geriatric in the same day. That had to be a personal record, right?

“Sure,” I said.

“No sex scandals or any such thing.”

“Elise!” Dad said. “Jesus! She’s not going to do anything like that.”

“Young women get in trouble.”

I watched poor Daphne retreat into herself and Cal wind up. Mom might have adored Cal’s precious offspring, but not their mother. She would never let what Daphne’s ex did to her die—blaming the poor woman for a sex tape she didn’t know she made being released in retaliation for the divorce her ex didn’t want to grant.

I decided to settle the score, too tired to give a shit about my mother’s retribution. “Daphne’s ex threw her under the bus with fucking revenge porn, Mom. Maybe don’t say that like it’s her fault.”

“Oh,” Mom said. “Well, that’s not what I meant. Just… don’t ruin your brother’s life.”

Cal affectionately said, “I don’t think there is anything to worry about, Mom. Chloe has never been subtle, but that’s the sort of energy we need more of.”

I smiled, grateful but worried about my mother’s words. It never occurred to me my accidental pregnancy would be the thing that could end my brother’s well-deserved political success. What if Mom was right? And what if I was just ruining lives by keeping this baby?

Driving back to my house late, I thought about my travel plans and my looming book deadlines. I wanted to ignore conversation I knew I should have with Cole. For a minute, I glanced out my bedroom window to the pool house. The lights were on. I told myself it didn’t matter because he already said he didn’t want more kids. And anyhow, it wasn’t wise to do it on the emotional day where he’d put Piper on a plane to Germany.

Finish your draft and then tell him. I turned my mind back to work, opened my notes app in my laptop, and buried myself in the new premise from my publisher.