24. Nora
CHAPTER 24
NORA
T he lingering scent of coffee and copier toner hangs in the air, a testament to the day’s labors as I stand frozen in the hallway. My coworkers are finishing out the day all around me while I’m just standing here, rooted before the corridor leading to Oliver’s office, the thought of our earlier conversation anchoring me to the spot.
“Go to him,” murmurs a voice inside my head, but it’s a whisper drowned out by the thunderous echo of his words: “I need some time to think.”
The afternoon has been a desert of silence, mirroring the arid space growing between us.
I move one foot forward, then halt. My mind races through possible scenarios, each more desperate than the last. Should I apologize?
The thought is laughable. Apologize for what, exactly? It took both of us to get into this situation.
Then what should I do? Demand a response? Coax him into understanding? But the idea of pleading for his attention scrapes at my dignity like nails on a chalkboard.
It’s so strange. I hoped he would be happy about the pregnancy news, but instead he turned into a man I’d never met — cold, distant. Reserved.
It breaks my heart to even remember the moment, the look in his eyes. A pregnancy should be a cause for celebration, and yet today it’s a wedge between me and the man I love.
Love. What a funny word.
Does Oliver even feel an ounce of love for me, or have these weeks together been nothing but fun to him? Have I grossly misunderstood the situation?
With a deep breath that does little to steady my nerves, I turn away from the path to his office. My purse feels heavy as I sling it over my shoulder, its contents now seemingly made of lead. I walk through the deserted foyer, my stomach sinking with each step.
The city greets me with its usual indifference, the sun dipping low as if avoiding eye contact. It’s a short drive to my apartment, but today it feels like an odyssey. With every turn of the wheels, I replay the moment of revelation — Oliver’s eyes wide with shock rather than joy, the color draining from his face as if I’d announced a death rather than a life.
“Pull yourself together,” I mutter under my breath, scolding myself for the tears that threaten to spill.
By the time I reach my building, the rolled-down window and biting wind have done their job; my cheeks are dry and my resolve hardened.
Inside, my apartment offers me cold comfort. The walls seem to lean in, curious about the outcome they missed. Lynn will be here for dinner any minute, and I’m not sure how to shape the words that will paint the picture of my crumbling fairytale.
“Shock,” I whisper to the empty room. “How could he be shocked?”
We are adults, aren’t we? We knew the risks and embraced the passion that comes with new love. But apparently, we hadn’t braced for consequences.
I sink onto the couch, the cushions accepting my weight without judgment. The silence here is different; it’s waiting, expectant. As am I, with a life within that is already rewriting my future. Oliver’s still at work, probably ensconced in his office as he grapples with a reality that bends the framework of his meticulously planned existence.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask the silence, knowing it won’t answer, that the next move is mine to make.
And as I wait for Lynn, for the comfort of familiarity amidst the chaos, I know one thing for certain. I’m keeping this baby, with or without Oliver Wolfe.
There’s a knock on my door, and I hurry to answer it. Lynn sweeps into my apartment like a gust of wind. She’s bearing takeout — pad Thai, our favorite comfort food — and a grin that falters when she sees me.
“Hey,” I start, but my voice is teetering on the edge of breaking, so I clear my throat and try again. “Hey.”
“Whoa.” She sets down the bags of food on the coffee table and eyes me with a mix of concern and curiosity. “What happened? You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”
I sink back into the couch, the cushions no more comforting now than they were when I was alone. My cousin sits beside me, her proximity both soothing and a reminder that I need to unpack the chaos swirling inside me.
“Is it Ollie?” she asks. “Did something happen between you two?”
I suck in a long, difficult breath. “Yeah. Kind of.”
My fingers trace the pattern on the fabric of the couch, unwilling to meet her gaze just yet.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, the words hanging between us before gravity pulls them down, heavy with implication.
Lynn’s silence is deafening. Then, she grabs my hands, squeezing tight. “Oh, my God, Nora! That’s… are you okay? What did Oliver say?”
“Shocked,” I mutter, and I can feel Lynn’s grip tighten, protective fury warming her touch. “He couldn’t even talk to me. Just said he needed time to think and shut himself away.”
“Time to think?” She practically spits out the words. “It takes two to tango, Nora. He has no right to act like this is some kind of inconvenience.”
Her anger crackles, a fire ready to consume. But as much as I want to feed it, to let it burn away my hurt, I can’t. Because despite everything, part of me still clings to the hope that Oliver will come around, that he’ll be the partner I thought he could be.
“Maybe he just needs a moment,” I say, but it feels like I’m trying to convince myself more than Lynn.
“A moment?” She scoffs, shaking her head. “No, he needs a reality check. You’re amazing, Nora. You’ll be an incredible mother — with or without him.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over.
Lynn wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. Even though she’s shorter than me by a good four inches, her embrace is big and warm, and for the first time since the morning, I feel somewhat safe.
We sit there in silence for a few minutes. The apartment is quiet, save for the muffled sound of the city outside. From somewhere in the distance, I can hear the familiar hum of traffic, punctuated by a car horn or two. Inside my own walls though, it’s eerily silent, as if everything is on pause.
“I’ll be here for you, Nora,” she finally says, breaking the stillness. “No matter what happens.”
“I’m scared, Lynn,” I confess quietly, feeling my voice wobble from the uncertainty of what the future holds.
She squeezes my hand in reassurance, her thumb brushing soothing circles over my knuckles. “Of course you’re scared. This is huge. But remember that huge doesn’t mean impossible.”
Her words are a balm, the exact mix of honesty and comfort I need right now. I draw in a shaky breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. For the first time since the storm hit, I feel the clouds parting, even if just a tiny bit.
With determined motions, she unpacks our food, pad Thai wafting its earthy aroma around us and making my stomach growl with hunger I hadn’t realized I’d felt. She hands me a container and a pair of chopsticks, flashing me a small, encouraging smile.
“Let’s eat before we figure anything out,” she says gently. “You need your strength.”
I nod, mechanically picking up a noodle with my chopsticks. The food tastes like a mix of tangy tamarind and sweet peanuts, the comfort of familiarity chasing away some of the bitter taste from earlier.
Even as I eat, though, I need to talk. “We had such a good time in Pennsylvania. He was so grateful to have me with him. I thought… I thought he would be happy. That he would want this baby.” My lower lip quivers.
She sighs. “I’m sorry, Nora, but I have to be honest. Oliver comes first in his world. He’s always made that clear. He cares more about success than anything else or anyone else. My guess is he’s freaked out because the responsibility of family life will get in the way of his work.” She snorts. “Even though he could hire a dozen nannies and never once have to change a diaper.”
“I don’t want that.” I shake my head. “I want a partner to raise my baby with.”
Lynn nods sadly. “I know you do, and you deserve that. It just might not be him.”
I look down at my plate, tears blurring my vision.
“Hey, hey.” She sets her food aside and takes my hands. “I didn’t say that to upset you. You just have to be prepared for the possibility, okay? And if he can’t step up, then he doesn’t deserve you or this baby.”
I sniffle as she reaches over to swipe a tear from my cheek. “It just hurts, you know?”
“Of course it does.” Her voice is soft, empathetic. “Love is complicated and messy and unpredictable. But it’s also resilient and strong and beautiful.”
She squeezes my hands tighter, catching my eye. “And I know you have so much love in that big heart of yours, Nora. Enough for you and your baby, whether Oliver’s there or not.”
I manage a watery smile at that. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” she replies firmly. “But if you need me to go over there and kick his ass, I will.”
That makes me laugh. Just a little, enough to feel the familiar crinkle around my eyes, enough to give me a sliver of hope amidst the storm.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I tell her, my voice just a notch stronger than before.
I set the pad Thai aside, sated and suddenly feeling exhausted. It’s been a whirlwind of emotions, and my body’s just about ready to call it quits for the day.
Lynn seems to get it because she starts clearing our food away, leaving me on the couch. I watch her move around my apartment with an ease that’s almost enviable. She’s always been like this, able to adapt and adjust every time life throws her curveballs.
She returns with a glass of water for me, setting it down on the coffee table with a soft clink. “You should get some rest. I’ll sleep over tonight. I can crash on the couch.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Well, I am. My shift doesn’t start till tomorrow night anyway.”
“Okay.” I nod and relax a little more, comforted by her presence. “What will my parents think?”
“You’re a grown woman, Nora. You’re allowed to become a mom whenever you choose. It doesn’t matter what they think.”
“Yeah,” I agree, still sure they’ll be disappointed if I have to tell them I’m becoming a single mother by choice.
Then again, maybe it’s my own disappointment I’m really worried about. I’ve always wanted a family, and for me that includes a partner to raise kids with. It’s not me juggling everything on my own.
“How does a bath sound?” Lynn suggests. “That might help you relax.”
I nod, pushing myself off the couch and wobbling towards my bathroom, Lynn’s concerned gaze following me.
I fumble for the light switch and am greeted by the soft glow of the small overhead lamp that casts long, eerie shadows across the pristine white tiles. With a sigh, I lean against the counter, taking in my reflection in the mirror. My eyes look tired, shadows under them deeper than usual. My hair, usually sleek and shiny, is a frizzy mess.
For a moment, I just stand there staring at myself, taking in all the changes that have suddenly erupted in my life.
“You look like hell,” I mutter to my reflection. But beneath the layers of exhaustion and distress, I can see it — a fierce determination that has always been my driving force.
This week threw a curveball my way, and even though things are tough right now, I know that I’ll pull through. Not only that, but I’ll come out stronger on the other end.
With or without Oliver Wolfe.