Chapter Fifty-Six
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER
April 2028
ELIZABETH
I’M PREGNANT. SURPRISE! I haven’t told Josh. I haven’t told anyone because I just found out last night. We’ve been trying for six months now and have been unsuccessful up until this point. Michaela called two nights ago to tell me she is pregnant—nine weeks along—and that’s what made me take a test. I hadn’t even realized it, but I was almost three weeks late. We’ve had so much going on—moving into the new house, Brie’s spring art show, Pat and Jenny moving down to Jupiter, and cheerleading practices and competitions—I hadn’t even thought about it.
I should’ve known something was going on when I got extra emotional when Brie introduced us to her teacher a week ago. Josh and I walked into the art show at Jupiter Beach High and Brie dragged us across the library to her art teacher. When she made her introductions, she referred to me as her “momma.” And standing there in the middle of the school library, tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t stop them as they flowed down my cheeks. I don’t consider myself a particularly emotional person, so that should’ve been my first sign.
Over the past two years, Brie and I have gotten closer, bonding over our love of art and cheerleading, two things she was able to pursue further by returning to school. Brie had been homeschooled after she moved in with Juliet and her husband, Tom Donovan. He had two other kids from a previous marriage who were homeschooled, and they decided Brie should be too. And she hated it. Hated the limited interaction with her friends and the lack of true stimulation you can only get from in-person learning. When Brie moved in with me and Josh, she begged to return to real school for her final two years of high school. She has integrated into the family as if she’s always been here. Even Justin stops by now and then—he even joined us for Christmas last year. It took a little time, but he and Josh have finally managed to work through their differences. I wouldn’t say they’re completely back to normal, but they’re getting there.
“Brie!” I scold as she stuffs a bunny cookie in her mouth.
“Wha’? I meth i’ up!” She defends herself with her mouth full and laughs at how ridiculous she sounds. She licks some white icing from the side of her hand before taking a large gulp of water. “I messed it up! I couldn’t just leave it there.”
“If you keep eating them, you’re going to have to make even more.”
Half of the ten-foot marble island of our new home is littered with undecorated spring-themed sugar cookies—daisies, roses, tulips, bumblebees, butterflies, and bunnies. There’s a bake sale happening tomorrow to raise money for the cheerleading squad. Jenny had offered her help, but I declined, telling her Brie and I were more than capable of baking and decorating a few cookies.
Mending things with Jenny has taken some time and a handful of hard conversations. I’ve made it abundantly clear that I don’t appreciate the things she has said to Josh over the years. Not only because it was part of what drove the wedge between us, but also because what kind of mother says those things to her son? It reminded me so much of Brina, and I refused to put up with Brina 2.0. Even though things are better, they’re not great. Jenny is still on probation with Josh. He keeps his mom at arm’s length and I’m not sure if they’ll ever be able to go back to normal—whatever that truly looked like for them. His relationship with Pat, on the other hand, has only gotten better. Now that they’ve moved down to Jupiter, he and Josh spend most Sundays watching football and grilling burgers.
Don’t get me wrong, while Josh’s sense of self-worth has gotten better, there are still times he falls back into old habits. Times the imposter syndrome sneaks its way into his mind, making him feel like he doesn’t belong. Like he’s not worthy of this life we’ve built. But we’re working on it, and I’ll continue to remind him that he’s worthy of this, of us, every day if I have to. Sometimes, I catch him re-reading the letter I wrote him before the divorce, the one my lawyer never delivered on time. It serves as a quiet reminder that no matter what thoughts run through his head, I’ll always choose him.
“I love you,” was the first thing Josh said when he finished reading the letter that day in his office. And that’s the first thing I say when I catch him reading it now.
The sound of the oven going off reminds me of the current task at hand, and you know what? I’m starting to regret not taking Jenny up on that offer to help with the cookies…Not only are we making them for Brie’s contribution, but she told me this morning we’re helping her best friend Blake, too.
Blake Evans was another transfer student who started at JBHS a year before Brie, and they became fast friends when Brie tried out for the cheer squad. They reminded me a lot of me and Nina, Blake taking Brie under her wing and showing her the ropes of Jupiter Beach High.
“Is Dad coming back today?” Brie asks, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she tries to line the edges of another bunny.
Josh has been gone since last Thursday for Alex’s bachelor party. The whole group of guys had gone out to Nick and Nina’s house in Haven, Colorado—Alex, Nick, Josh, Finn, Elijah, Jeremy, Kai, Dean, and Alex’s friend, Cole. It was sure to be a wild time, especially when Josh told me they were going to have a phone-free weekend. Cole had planned the whole thing, but Alex’s one request was no phones. It was sweet when you think about it. He just wanted to spend some uninterrupted time with some of his favorite people. I think that’s why none of the significant others fought the idea, but I have a sneaky suspicion that Kai, Nick, and Jeremy have been making secret phone calls to the kids.
“They should be back tomorrow,” I say, and when I look up from my bumblebee, she has another cookie in her mouth. “Brooke Parker Sinclaire-Davis, are you eating the cookies again?”
“It was calling to me!” Brie giggles.
I roll my eyes, returning to the next cookie in front of me, a tulip this time. “Shouldn’t Blake be here by now?”
“ETA is ten minutes,” Brie says, checking her phone.
Blake was bringing more ingredients for another batch of cookies and icing since they both waited until the last minute to decide what they were going to bring to the sale and I didn’t have enough ingredients for both of them. And in true Blake fashion, she was running fifteen late—it’s a little something we like to call Blake Time .
“That girl is slower than molasses in January.”
Brie smirks. “Your southern is showing.”
I glare at her before tossing a pinch of edible glitter across the island and she does the same. Before we know it, the whole thing is covered in different shades of edible glitter.
“I hope everyone likes their cookies a little sparkly,” Brie says, and we both erupt in laughter.
The fun is cut short when my phone rings from the other side of the kitchen. It’s probably just Michaela; she had her ten-week doctor’s appointment today. I’ll call her back later after we finish these damn cookies. It starts ringing again immediately after it ends, and my stomach drops. Something is wrong and Brie’s gaze on the phone tells me she’s thinking the same.
Picking up my phone, the name on the screen only confirms my fear. The guys aren’t supposed to have their phones until tomorrow afternoon when they leave. Josh’s name across the screen only lessens my worry a small amount. His call means something is wrong, but at least I know whatever it is…it’s not him.
“I thought you guys were phone-free this weekend,” I say, trying to maintain a smile, knowing I have an audience.
Brie continues to ice the cookies, but I can tell she’s not paying much attention to what she’s doing. She’s trying to listen in on my conversation without being too obvious, but she’s doing a poor job at it. She curses under her breath when she drops a large dollop of orange icing on a yellow bumblebee.
I’m about to tell Josh I have to go when his words catch me off guard. I can barely get the words out to ask him to repeat himself. How is this even possible? They were supposed to stick together. How could they let this happen? I have so many questions, but the only thing I can manage is: “What do you—what do you mean he’s missing? ”