Addie #2
“I know,” I say gently. “You’re trying to fix it before it hardens.”
Sera cuts in before Josie can talk herself in circles. “Addie’s right.”
She doesn’t elaborate, and my relief surprises me with its intensity.
Ric looks up. “This isn’t about punishment,” he says. “It’s about boundaries.”
“Exactly,” I say. “And I need this one. At least for now.”
Josie exhales and reaches across the table, her hand brushing mine. “Okay,” she says. “For now.”
I nod again. Evie has always found ways in through people who wanted to belong. She’s a master manipulator, and I’m done offering kindness to my family, only to have it snap back on me, courtesy of my grandmother.
After that, their concern moves more openly to me.
Ric clears his throat. “How have you been feeling lately?” he asks, like it’s a neutral question. Like it hasn’t already been answered twice.
“Okay,” I say. “Mostly just tired.”
Liz nods. “Are you sleeping well?”
“Yes. I try to get into the studio a few hours a day. And I walk the indoor circle at the rec center every day—six times around is my goal. And I sleep. It’s not difficult right now.”
Sera finally says what I’m sure the rest of them are thinking. “Addie, we’re not just worried about your health.”
I meet her gaze. “I know.”
“We’re worried about how you’re going to manage,” Josie adds. “With your work. With everything.”
“Is the father going to be involved?” Ric asks.
I lean back, buying myself a second I don’t have. “This room is a vault. What I’m about to say doesn’t leave it.”
No one speaks. A few nod.
I let my gaze move across them anyway, making sure.
“The father is the doctor replacing Dr. Hutchinson, Luc Anderson.”
There’s total quiet for a moment, and then—
“Wait,” Ginny says. “He just got here. How exactly did that happen?”
“He was here for the start-of-summer party.” I reach for my glass, more for something to do with my hand than anything else. “The condom failed.”
That pushes us into silence again.
“He knows,” I add, setting the glass down. “That’s as far as it goes right now. So I can’t say what his involvement’s going to be.”
That’s the part that always straightens my spine.
“I’ve been managing,” I add. And it’s true.
I have the next year pretty much covered with my savings from recent sales, but after that, it’s murky.
I have some ideas in the works, but I’m still reliant on the art market and my ability to create work.
Josie nods quickly. “We know. You always do. But this is different. You won’t get to just ride out a slow month anymore.”
Ric folds his hands on the table. “This isn’t about judgment,” he says. “It’s about support and planning.”
Planning. The word tastes like someone else’s idea of my life.
“I’m not asking anyone to take over,” I say. “Or rescue me.”
“We’re not offering that,” Sera says sharply. “We’re asking if you’ve thought through the logistics.”
Insurance. Rent. Time off that doesn’t exist when your income depends on showing up.
Childcare costs that make my chest tighten just thinking about them.
I’ve thought about all of it. Late at night.
Early in the morning. In the spaces between commissions and nausea. “Yes,” I say. “Of course, I have.”
Josie hesitates, and then goes where she always goes. “What about him?”
The word hangs there, unspecific and loaded. I don’t ask who she means.
“Do you want him to be involved?”
I take a breath. “That’s not something I’m ready to talk about.”
Sera tilts her head. “Addie.”
I hold her gaze. “I mean it.”
Ric doesn’t interrupt, but his expression changes. “We’re not asking because we’re curious.”
“I know,” I say. That almost makes it harder.
Josie reaches for logic, for kindness shaped like reason. “If he’s a decent guy, he should be part of this. And if he’s not, we need to know so we can help protect you.”
“Help protect me.” On the inside, I recoil. That’s something Evie would say.
Sera’s version is cleaner. “If Evie finds out first, she’ll control the narrative.”
That’s the truth under everything. Not romance. Not morality. Optics.
I think of the way the father’s name would move through this town. The way it would pull old lines into new alignments. Paradise. Dempsey. “I’m not naming him.”
Josie looks wounded, but she doesn’t argue. Ric looks a little at a loss.
“This pregnancy is mine,” I continue, my voice steadier than I feel. “It isn’t leverage or a shield, and it isn’t something anyone else gets to manage, particularly not Evie.”
Silence blankets the table. Not angry. Not disappointed. Just heavy with love that has nowhere to go.
Sera exhales. “We just want to help.”
“I know,” I say. “And I need to do this my way.”
It falls quiet again, and Liz starts clearing what’s remaining on the table, giving everyone an out without drawing attention to it. I help automatically, even though she tells me not to.
Josie waits until we’re back at the table with fresh mugs before she speaks again. She chooses her words the way she always does when she’s about to touch something tender. “Mom just texted,” she says. “She wants to come by.”
My body reacts first, a tightening behind my ribs, heat along my neck. “I’ve been avoiding her calls,” I confess. “Since I ran into her last week. Before my appointment.”
The memory flashes, sharp and unwelcome. My mother’s concern felt performative, like she was already rehearsing how to report back. Even if that isn’t fair. Even if she didn’t mean it that way.
Josie’s expression softens. “She’s worried.”
“I know,” I say. “That doesn’t make it easier.”
Sera doesn’t interrupt. She just watches, waiting to see which way I’m going to lean.
“I’m not ready for her to just…drop in,” I continue. “I don’t want this to turn into a sit-down.”
Ric nods once. “Then don’t let it.”
I look at him, surprised.
“You can set the terms,” he adds. “That’s allowed.”
The simplicity of it almost makes me laugh.
“Dessert,” I say slowly, testing it out. “She can come for dessert. And I can’t stay late.”
Josie smiles, relief clear. “Okay.”
“And if she says something I don’t like,” I continue, “I’m going to excuse myself and leave.”
“No arguing,” Sera says with a nod. “No guilt.”
Josie reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “We’ll all be here. For you.”
Including Mom, she means.
I nod, even though trust still feels like something I have to measure carefully. But accepting support doesn’t have to mean surrendering control. I’m learning that. Slowly.
The conversation drifts for a minute, safe again, but it doesn’t stay there. It never does. Not lately.
Ric’s voice lowers. “Is the vineyard going to be impacted by Evie’s indictment?”
I stare into my mug, watching the surface ripple as I set it down. Indicted isn’t a rumor. It’s a line crossed.
Josie exhales. “The whole town’s talking, like they’ve been waiting for permission to discuss it out in the open.”
“Sales are down from last year, and so far, we’ve been able to distance ourselves from the drama,” Sera says. “But that may change when they actually arrest them.”
“What happens next?” I ask.
“I’ve been talking to our lawyers,” Sera continues. “There’s a preliminary inquiry to see whether there’s enough evidence to go to trial, and it stands to reason that there is.” She shrugs. “Then they can negotiate their jail time or wait to see what happens at trial.”
“We all know Evie is dying for her day in court.” Josie rolls her eyes.
“There are more arrests coming,” Ric says. “The police are laying charges at more than Zach, Max, and Evie.”
“Who else?” I ask.
“Four more,” he answers. “We just don’t know who yet.”
That feels ominous. Four empty spaces waiting to be filled.
“The town’s choosing sides,” Sera says. “And most of the time, it’s not ours.”
I feel it then, the thing I’ve been trying not to name, the way conversations stop when I walk into certain places around town, the way people look at me a beat too long. This isn’t just scandal. It’s sorting.
Ric meets my eyes. “You need to be careful what you say. And who you say it to.”
I nod because it’s already true. I’ve been living this way for years. Trust no one. Stay quiet. Silence has been my shield. It’s kept the boundaries firm and stopped other people from making choices for me.
There’s a knock at the door, and mom’s voice follows. “Hello?”
“We’re in here,” Ric says.
Mom walks in, and her eyes immediately pool with tears. “All of my babies are together.”
She works her way around the table, giving hugs to everyone. When she gets to me, she whispers in my ear. “I love you so much.”
That makes me tear up too. This is how she was when we were little. Then Evie kicked my dad out of the family, and she stayed to be Evie’s doormat. Everything changed.
As Mom pulls up a seat, Liz sets the blueberry crumble out on the counter and we all have a piece.
Mom asks questions around the table as we eat. She doesn’t pressure me to divulge too much, but when Josie tells her I’m having a boy, she lights up.
“Are you going to name him Henry after your dad? I know he’d love that.”
The room is silent. She never talks about our father.
“I was sure it was going to be a girl, so I haven’t really considered any boy names,” I offer after a moment.
“Well,” she says, wiping her lips with her napkin. “I know he would love it. But there are many great names out there. I had someone in the store the other day named Levi. I like that name.”
I will myself to smile, but the pressure of names is huge.
Now that Luc is in the picture, he may want to weigh in on this as well.
Anxiety rolls through me, but I shake it off.
Once it’s confirmed he’s the father, he’ll have a place in our child’s life whether I’m ready for that or not.
I’m not going to worry about it right now.
Someone gets Mom talking about something else, and after I put my plate in the sink, I slip outside onto the porch, the night cool against my skin. The town lies quiet beyond the trees, but I know better now than to mistake quiet for calm.
I rest a hand on my stomach. Time has weight to it lately.
Weeks don’t pass unnoticed anymore. They leave marks, create irrevocable change.
I think about names, about how naming this baby after my father could turn this into something symbolic in a way I don’t intend.
It would force people I care about to take sides and make the feud worse.
Inside, my siblings are giving me space without making it feel like distance.
They’re ready to stand with me. They just don’t know how yet.
I don’t know either. For me, keeping quiet about my life has felt like safety.
Like control. But sitting here, breathing in the night, I understand what I’ve been pretending not to.
Silence isn’t neutral. It’s a decision. One that protects my autonomy and limits my ability to receive help at the same time.
I straighten, acknowledging that. This pregnancy is still mine. My body. My future. That hasn’t changed. What has changed is my awareness.
If I keep choosing silence—with Luc and with my family—I’ll need to own what it costs.