26. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Lily
"Are you sure you're okay?" Laila asks, her eyes narrowing with skepticism.
"Yeah," I reply, trying to sound casual. "I just wasn't in the mood for beef. The smell kind of grossed me out."
"Hmm," Laila muses, her eyebrow arching high.
"What?" I question, sensing her doubt.
"Lily, you look peaked, honey."
"Peaked?" I scoff. "Out of all the words in the English language, you pick peaked ?"
"You look like you could barf at any second," she retorts, "so yeah, peaked is the appropriate word in this case."
"Well, it's not that serious," I defend, but my tone wavers. "I think I just had something that didn't agree with me."
"Lily," she says, her voice softening into a sweet, low tone that makes me pause. "Could you be—pregnant?"
"Pregnant?" I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief. "You know that's impossible."
"Is it impossible because you've never had sex?" she asks, her green eyes penetrating. "Or because you only have one working ovary and a semi-functioning uterus?"
Her words wound me because they're true, but I don't respond. I just glance down at my ring, twisting it nervously as a wave of nausea rises in my throat, threatening to spill over. I cover my mouth with my palm and dash down the hall to the bathroom.
I dry heave into the toilet for a couple of minutes before a light knock on the door interrupts me. "Let me in," Laila’s voice calls from the other side.
I open the door, and she slips inside. She immediately looks out before shutting the door to make sure the guys are still upstairs. She turns to face me. Her worried expression comforts me despite the chaos swirling in my mind. I’m at a loss—unsure what to think, where to look, how to even feel.
"What you're suggesting... it's impossible," I murmur, panic creeping into my voice despite my attempt to sound calm. "Right?"
"Lily, be honest with me," she begins, her tone shifting slightly. "Have you and Noah—?"
I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. "It only happened once," I admit. "Just... one day."
"Well, that’s all it takes," she says, her eyes growing wide.
I watch as she rummages through her purse and pulls out three or four packs of pregnancy tests.
"What the hell, Laila?!" I exclaim as she shoves the boxes into my hands.
"Sam and I were trying for months," she says, her wide smile illuminating the room. "It was fun. Anyway, we won’t be needing these anymore."
"You’re—?" I stammer as the realization hits me. "You and Sam?"
She nods, beaming. "Yeah, I'm almost eight weeks."
"Oh my gosh!" I exclaim, pulling her into a tight hug. "Congratulations!"
"We just found out," she says softly. "We haven’t told anyone yet, so—"
"Oh, of course," I say quickly. "Mum's the word."
"Here," she says, opening one of the boxes. "Go ahead, pee on the stick!"
"Laila," I protest, my heart racing. "I'm not pregnant."
"Pee. On. The. Stick," she insists, her voice low and urgent. "Quick, before they come back downstairs."
She turns around to give me some semblance of privacy. I can hardly believe this is happening. My hands shake as I pull the stick out of the package. I fumble with the wrapper, nearly dropping it in the process.
"Make sure you don’t miss," she teases, a giggle escaping her.
"Don’t look at me!" I exclaim, half-laughing, half-panicking.
"Then pay attention!" she laughs.
I nod, swallowing hard, and force myself to focus on the task at hand. With trembling fingers, I slip the cap back onto the stick and set it on the counter. After I wash my hands, the weight of the moment crashes over me. I lower the toilet lid and sink onto it, my heart pounding in my chest, anxiety and disbelief twisting together in a dizzying swirl. What if Laila is right? What if she’s wrong?
The next three minutes stretch out like an eternity. Laila leans against the door, biting her lower lip, her anxious energy palpable. I’m on the verge of tears, grappling with a possibility that feels too good to be true.
Finally, Laila picks up the stick, her gaze glued to the result. Time seems to slow as she looks up at me, her expression one of pure shock. My pulse quickens, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.
“You’re pregnant,” she says, handing me the stick. The words hang in the air like a delicate thread, fragile but unbreakable, shifting everything in an instant.
I stare at the two blue lines and cover my mouth as tears well up in my eyes. It feels like I’m suspended in a dream, the world around me blurring as I try to process what this could mean for my life, my future, and Noah.
Laila waits, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of what I might be feeling. Am I about to leap for joy or crumble into tears of disappointment?
“Well?” she prompts, her voice thick with anticipation.
"I'm pregnant," I whisper, the words spilling from my lips like a long-held secret I can barely contain. "For the last five years, I anchored myself in the reality that I’d never get to experience this. And now that it’s finally here, it feels utterly surreal."
"Are you happy?" Laila asks gently, her eyes full of tenderness.
"What if the test is wrong?" I say, my voice trembling.
"Here," she says, handing me the rest of the tests. "Use them all."
The second and third tests confirm what feels like a miracle: the impossible is sometimes incredibly, wondrously possible. I’m pregnant.
***
Laila's face gives nothing away for the rest of the evening. She carries on as if nothing extraordinary has just happened. Meanwhile, my mind buzzes with a single, overwhelming thought: I’m pregnant.
"Don't forget to call me tomorrow," she says with a grin as she and Sam prepare to leave. "We still have to pick out drapes for the nursery."
"I will," I smile, feeling a little rush of excitement. "How about Saturday?"
"Perfect!" she exclaims, her enthusiasm infectious.
"Are you okay?" Noah asks as we watch them drive away. "You've been quiet."
"I'm sorry," I say, offering a small smile. "I think I'm just nervous about the grand opening. It's only a week away, and even though everything’s ready, I feel anxious."
He steps closer. His presence, like always, makes me catch my breath. "You’ve got this, Sweetheart," he whispers. "Everything will be perfect."
"Yes," I say, smiling up at him. "Everything is perfect."
When his lips brush gently over mine, I close my eyes, sinking into the moment. For the first time tonight, it finally dawns on me just how perfect everything truly is. We're going to have a baby.
***
I assess my reflection in the mirror, standing in just my bra and panties. My fingers graze over my flat belly, and a wave of wonder washes over me. The realization sinks in—on the day Noah and I came together, we created a life now growing inside me, a beautiful secret blossoming in the quiet of my heart.
I have to tell him, but not until I see my doctor. I have to find out if my body can even carry this baby. Is my womb strong enough to protect us through the next eight months? A tear rolls down my cheek, quickly followed by another. I place a protective hand over my stomach, whispering, "I will make sure you're always safe."
In this moment, I transform from a girl who thought she'd never know what this felt like into a mother willing to fight for her child and give her life if necessary.
"I love you, Baby," I whisper as the tears continue to flow, each one evidence of the fierce love blooming within me.
***
“So, I’m okay?” I ask, sitting across from Dr. Larsen, my heart racing with anticipation.
“You're fine,” he assures me, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Congratulations! I know you’ve been through a lot. With your type of injury, the chances of getting pregnant were pretty slim, but now that you've crossed that bridge, your ability to carry this child is promising.”
"I can't believe this is happening," I murmur, shaking my head in disbelief, my breath catching in my throat.
"I can't believe it either," he admits. "Your body has shown remarkable resilience. Your uterus has healed well, and while there is some scar tissue and you only have one functioning ovary, your hormone levels are stable. That’s crucial for a healthy pregnancy, which means you have a good chance of carrying this baby to term.”
"Do I need to do anything special to keep us both healthy?" I ask, instinctively placing a protective hand over my belly.
Dr. Larsen leans in slightly, his voice reassuring. “I’ll be monitoring you closely throughout this journey. We’ll schedule regular ultrasounds and check-ups to ensure everything is progressing as it should. If any concerns arise, we’ll address them promptly, but from what I see now, you and your baby are doing well.”
"I know it might be too early to tell, but... can I have more children?" I ask, a hopeful tremor in my voice.
"Absolutely," he smiles. "Many women go on to have more children after a successful pregnancy. If you decide to expand your family later, we’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”
***
"Marian wants to keep Davey until tomorrow," Noah says as I walk in the door, frustration etched on his face. "I don’t want to have a full-blown argument with her before she leaves, but this is becoming ridiculous."
"I'm sorry, Noah," I reply, lightly touching his arm as I settle beside him on the couch.
"I wanted us to part on good terms, but she's making it nearly impossible."
"So when will she bring him back?" I ask, confusion lacing my tone. "She leaves tomorrow, so what does she plan to do? Just drop him off on her way to the airport?"
"Yes," he replies, his expression tightening with frustration. "That’s exactly her plan."
"What can we do?" I ask, anxiety creeping into my voice. "Should we go pick him up?"
"She put him on the phone when she called, and, of course, he begged me to let him stay," he replies, raking his fingers through his hair.
I was so excited to come home and share the news about the baby, but it feels inappropriate now. It’s clear he’s reeling with anger. This is exactly what he meant when he said Marian would use Davey to manipulate situations and get what she wanted.
"After tomorrow, there will be thousands of miles between her and us," I say softly, hoping the reminder will ease some of his tension.
"You're right," he says, taking my hand and kissing it softly. "How was your day?"
"It was good," I say, offering a smile. "I stopped by the studio and helped Zoe with a few things. Then she helped me put together the last of the welcome folders."
"We have the rest of the day all to ourselves," he says, his tone softening. "What do you want to do?"
"How about we make dinner together and spend a quiet evening at home?" I suggest, a smile tugging at my lips.
"You read my mind," he says, his gaze glinting with devotion. "Maybe we can even look up some wedding bands and see if we can decide on something."
"I'd love to have matching wedding bands," I say, glancing down at my engagement ring with admiration.
He gently cups my face, and I close my eyes, leaning into the warmth of his touch. A smile spreads across my lips just as his lips brush over the dimple on my cheek, followed by a kiss so full of passion that time seems to stand still. I let myself sink deeper and deeper into the circle of love he builds around us, cradled safely in his arms.