Chapter 1
Chapter One
Lexi
Two lines.
I stare at the test in disbelief.
Two very bright, very pink lines.
This can’t be right.
I grab the other test and start over, pacing in the bathroom as I wait for the results.
I’d only bought two different types of tests because I’d been sure one negative result would be more than enough.
But it’s not.
And now there’s a plus sign shining up at me.
Oh. My. God.
This can’t be true.
The doctors have told me repeatedly that my chances of conceiving naturally are less than ten percent.
Having breast cancer at sixteen had changed the course of my life in ways I hadn’t fully understood as a teenager.
However, as a twenty-six-year-old married woman, I’ve been fully cognizant of the idea that I might never carry a child.
My friends are all getting pregnant, or already have kids, so it weighs on me.
Zaan, my husband, is the most patient, loving guy any woman could ever ask for. But I know he wants kids. I do too. We’ve discussed adoption, but we have extremely busy careers, so the timing has never been right to start the process. Besides, we hadn’t quite given up on having a baby of our own.
And now we are.
I want to call him but figure I should wait until I can tell him in person.
He’s a professional hockey player and is currently on a road trip with his team, the Las Vegas Sidewinders. He’s probably at practice now anyway, and I have to get to the studio.
I wrap the tests in tissue and hide them in the back of my makeup drawer.
They’ll keep until he gets home on Sunday.
I’m going to have to plan something special, but in the meantime, I need to make an appointment with my OB/GYN.
I also want to call Mack, my stepmother.
She’s the plastic surgeon who gave me new breasts after my double mastectomy, and then she married my dad.
Having her in my life is one of the biggest blessings because she’s more my mom than my actual mother ever was.
I call her as I’m driving to the studio.
“Hey, Lex. How are you?” she answers on the first ring.
“Can you keep a secret?” I ask.
She laughs. “Do you really need to ask?”
“Kind of. This is something very, very private. And it’s important no one else find out until I’m ready.”
“Lexi, you’re scaring me!”
“No, it’s nothing bad,” I say quickly.
“Tell me already.”
“I took two positive pregnancy tests this morning.”
There’s a moment of silence and then a squeal of joy. “Oh my god! Lexi, that’s amazing news! Why is it a secret?”
“It’s not a secret. I just don’t want Zaan to find out until I can tell him in person. He’s on the road until Sunday. And you can’t tell Dad because you know he won’t be able to hide it.”
“Oh, of course. Honey, I’m so happy for you.” She pauses. “Are you happy?”
“I’m a little nervous,” I admit. “I’ve been told since I was sixteen that pregnancy could be difficult for me, but I never gave it much thought. Now that it’s happening, I’m not sure what it all means.”
“Did you schedule an appointment with Dr. Diaz?”
“Yup. I see her on Friday.”
“How far along do you think you are?”
“I’m not sure. That’s the other thing that makes me nervous—I feel fine.
No fatigue, no morning sickness, no weight gain.
Nothing. The only reason I did the test is because I missed a period.
It’s been two months, but my periods tend to be wonky anyway since I stopped taking the pill, so it took me a little bit to realize something was off. ”
“Not all women have symptoms,” she says gently.
“I know. I’m not overly concerned yet, but that’s why I made the appointment.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“Would you?”
“Of course!”
Relief fills me.
I do want her to go. Having a doctor in the family can be daunting sometimes, but having her with me to help sort through whatever Dr. Diaz tells me is comforting.
“It’s Friday at ten.”
“You want to pick me up?”
“Sure.”
“I’m really happy for you, Lexi. And don’t worry too much, okay?”
“I’m in the studio with Crimson Edge this week, so hopefully I’ll be too busy to worry.”
“Focusing on work is a good thing.”
“Yeah, and then rehearsals for our tour start Saturday.” My band, Nobody’s Fool, is going out on tour for the first time as headliners so there’s a lot going on.
“Are you still going to go on tour?”
“Everything is already in the works,” I admit. “I’m going to have to talk to the guys about what this means going forward, but for now, I’m not changing anything. Especially not until I talk to Dr. Diaz.”
“Right. I don’t blame you.” She pauses again.
“What?” I ask. “What don’t you want to say?”
“I’m just concerned about your mental health. I know how much you love music and touring. Being stuck at home for an indeterminate length of time, especially with Zaan gone, could be frustrating for you.”
“I know. That’s one of many things I need to talk to the doctor about.”
“She isn’t going to be able to give you definitive answers. Today you feel fine. Tomorrow you could be puking your guts out. She can only give you averages.”
I sigh. “I know.”
“Well, let’s not worry about any of that. You need to get to work and so do I. Gracie Brekken is having another surgery today.”
“Oh no.” Gracie is the daughter of one of Zaan’s teammates. She went through a windshield as an infant that scraped off part of her face, and Mack has been slowly rebuilding it for her as she gets older. It’s still heartbreaking, though.
“Oh, it’s not serious. Just a little touch-up. But it’s time. And we want to give her the summer to heal.”
“Before school starts. Smart.”
“Anyway, we’ll talk later, okay?”
“Thanks, Mack. Love you.”
“Love you too.” We disconnect, and I stare straight ahead as I drive.
Am I excited?
I am, but I’m also worried.
The timing isn’t good because we have a tour coming up and there’s a lot of money on the line.
I’m potentially high risk because of my health history.
The Sidewinders are in the playoffs, so Zaan doesn’t need distractions right now.
And more importantly, why don’t I have any symptoms?
Does that mean there’s something wrong with the baby? With me?
I’m doing a duet with Jonny Gold for Crimson Edge’s new album—it’s going to be the first single—and then they’re supposed to go on tour with us for the first six weeks.
Then our management company is changing things around, but if I’m six or seven weeks pregnant, and then we leave for tour in three weeks, that will put me at ten or eleven weeks.
That’s almost the first trimester.
When will I start showing?
What happens when I can’t dance around the stage in skimpy clothes anymore?
Does anyone want to see a rock band with a hugely pregnant lead singer?
Ugh.
I momentarily close my eyes and count to ten.
I pull in a deep breath and try to shake off my nerves.
Only three days until Friday when I’ll get some answers.
Until then, I need to keep my nose to the grind and focus on my singing.