When her second month’s rent was due and she realized she’d been living there a month already, the passage of time surprised her. Each day blended into the next in a blur of automation. Thankfully she kept detailed notes in her day planner or she’d never know when to show up at her clients’ offices for meetings or workshops. One full month of living alone. Cooking meals for one wasn’t the same as preparing food for others, enjoying their pleasure from it. One full month of breakfasts, lunches, dinners. One full month of…
It was then she realized the one monthly thing that hadn’t happened since she’d lived there.
She hadn’t had a period.
She froze over her checkbook. Put a hand to her stomach. How long had it been?
Her last period had been the day Nate had comforted her on the beach. That was—she thought back—over two months ago. Her periods had always been wonky, but…not that much.
Shaking inside, she got to her feet and went into the tiny bathroom, opened the cupboard doors beneath the sink. She used to buy pregnancy tests in bulk, but did she still have…yes. There was one.
She didn’t need to read the instructions. She’d used so many of them, she knew exactly what to do, but her trembling hands made handling the tester clumsy.
She waited. Five minutes took forever. She sat on the side of the bathtub, drumming her fingers in a hollow beat. She checked her watch. Drummed her fingers. Checked her watch. Time.
She looked at the tester. Blinked.
Dear lord. She was pregnant.
Pregnant!
Once again, she laid her palm against her tummy. She stood and looked at herself in the mirror.
She’d lost weight. She didn’t get the same pleasure from cooking as she did when she was feeding someone else, so she hadn’t eaten much lately. That wasn’t healthy for the baby.
She looked healthy, though. Her nose and cheeks had a few more freckles from sitting in the sun by the pool, but also a light golden tan. She’d have to take better care of herself. She’d have to go the doctor. Get an official confirmation.
What if the test was wrong?
She’d never had a false positive in all the months of checking. How cruel would it be of fate to play that trick on her? After all this time, now the last thing she could think about was a baby, and here she was knocked up? Surely to God the test was accurate.
A baby. Her eyes widened in the mirror.
Her knees went weak and she had to grip the edge of the vanity to hold herself up. But still she slid to the floor, crumpled on the bath mat, knocking one elbow against the side of the tub. She leaned there, closed her eyes, sucked in air. Emotion swelled inside her so powerfully she thought she might burst. She wrapped her arms around herself, tears pooling in her eyes then dripping down her cheeks. She bowed her head, leaned her forehead on her knees and let herself cry.
She cried for all the times she’d done the pregnancy test and the harsh disappointment she’d felt each time it was negative. She cried for the life growing inside her and the joy of creating it, of knowing she was going to have a child. And she cried for Nate. That he wasn’t here to know this. That she couldn’t share this with him.
She was all alone. Another cruel twist of fate. Finally she got what she’d wanted—and she was alone. Never mind two fathers for the baby—now she had none. She turned her head to the side and blindly reached for a towel to mop her tears, pressed the soft terry to her face, inhaled the scent of spring breeze fabric softener.
Single women had babies all the time. She could do it.
When she’d sobbed herself dry and limp, she climbed to her feet. She set the tester on the counter by the sink, unwilling to toss it in the trash, the only concrete, real evidence of the life growing inside her. She wandered into her little kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. She’d have to drink more milk.
She sat on her couch in a daze. The joy bubbling up inside her was tempered with a dose of fear. Worry about doing this on her own. Supporting a child with her fledgling consulting business. Could she make it work for the long term? She’d never exactly had a stable career.
Was she crazy? When she’d been with Derek, she’d blithely wondered about continuing her career, money the least of her worries. Now…oh, God.
Bringing up a child on her own. What if it was a boy? He’d need a dad. He’d need someone to teach him male things.
And what about Nate?
He was the father. Biologically. He would have to know.
She closed her eyes against the pain that stabbed through her. She had no idea how to contact him. And no idea what she would even say to him. Would he be horrified? Or happy?
She would assure him nothing had changed. They’d wanted nothing from him in exchange for his sperm donation and she’d make sure he knew that was the same. She wasn’t going to—oh, God, it hurt—force him to be part of their lives if he didn’t want to be.
And if he did…
She couldn’t even bear to let her thoughts go there. Obviously, he’d shown how much he’d wanted to be part of their lives the day he’d left.
A knock sounded on her door. Her head jerked up. Thinking about Nate…then she remembered Cameron was coming over for a girls’ evening, drinking margaritas, eating popcorn and watching a chick flick. It was a much-needed night of respite for Cameron.
Krissa dragged herself off the couch and went to the door, peeked through the peephole to ensure it was her friend, then unlatched the door.
“Hi!” Cam breezed in, her arms full. “I got the DVD, two bottles of margaritas, and a bag of ice.” She thunked everything down on the counter with a rustle of paper and plastic.
She turned to Krissa and paused. “Hey. You okay?”
Krissa nodded, forced a smile. “Sure.”
Cam tipped her pretty blonde head. “You sure, honey? It’s okay to still be sad about everything.”
Cam had no idea what had really happened. All she knew was Derek had cheated on Krissa and she’d left him.
Krissa nodded, got a big bowl out of the cupboard for the popcorn.
“I’m fine.”
“You kind of look like you just won the lottery, actually,” Cam said, with a perception that startled Krissa. “Like something really good happened but you’re afraid it’s too good to be true.”
Krissa laughed. She ripped the cellophane off the bag of microwave popcorn. “Extra buttery,” she said, waving the flat package before inserting it into the microwave. With a few quick beeps, the oven started humming.
“Where’s your blender?”
They pulled it out, but before Cam could pour tequila into the blender, Krissa stopped her. “Make mine without.”
“Without tequila? Are you kidding me? That’s not a margarita, that’s a…Slurpee.”
“I know.” Krissa smiled. “I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”
Cam’s eyes narrowed. “But that was the whole point of tonight…”
“Oh, come on. The whole point is you and me getting together and watching a movie.”
Cam made a face but nodded and whirred the blender with a non-alcoholic drink for Krissa, then a tequila-laced one for herself.
“God, I needed this.” Cam sank onto Krissa’s couch with her drink in hand. Krissa didn’t have proper margarita glasses so they drank out of tumblers. Whatever. “Those kids are driving me crazy. And so, for that matter, is Eric. God.”
“What now?”
“Oh, everything.” She blew out a gusty sigh. “He’s just useless. He works all day, but doesn’t make any money. Then he comes home and he’s useless there, too. Doesn’t know what to do for the kids. I had to leave detailed instructions on how to get them to bed tonight, what to feed them…” She pushed out her lips. “It’s overwhelming. I feel like I’m doing everything—supporting us, looking after the house, the kids—everything.”