19. Tess
Tess
I slip away from the reception, my heart beating in my chest. The bathroom door swings shut behind me, cutting off the music and laughter like someone's pressed mute.
My reflection stares back at me from the wall of mirrors—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, a woman who just announced to half the wedding that she might be pregnant.
The bathroom is empty, thank God. I rush to the farthest stall, lock the door with trembling fingers, and lean against it, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I whisper, pressing my palms against my temples.
The bathroom stall walls feel like they’re pressing in while the floor threatens to drop away beneath me. I sink down onto the closed toilet lid. My purse slides off my shoulder and I catch it reflexively, fumbling inside for my phone.
The screen lights up and I open my period tracking app, the one I've been using faithfully for years, the one that's always been my reassurance that everything is normal, everything is fine. The calendar appears, dates marching across in neat little squares.
And there it is. A red circle that marks my last period—five weeks ago. Five weeks, not four. I count again, tapping each square with a shaking finger. My period is five days late.
"No," I breathe, but the evidence glows accusingly before me. "No, no, no."
My mind rewinds through the last week, searching for clues I may have missed. The fatigue I attributed to long rehearsals. The tenderness in my breasts I blamed on my bra. And now the horseradish cravings, just like my mother's pregnancy with me.
Then I remember—two nights when I fell asleep before taking my pill.
I’m usually so careful but I’ve been so caught up in this thing with Charlie, spending a lot of time at his place and being out of my routine.
I didn’t realize until the following evening that I’d forgotten to take the pill from the night before. Dammit…
I close my eyes and see Charlie's face as I blurted out those words at the table. The shock, the fear, the disbelief.
One percent. That's what they say about the chance of getting pregnant while you’re on birth control pills. One percent can still fail. But that’s when you take it as instructed, perfectly. And I wasn't perfect.
I wasn't perfect at all.
A tremor runs through my body, starting in my shoulders and working its way down to my knees. The pressure in my chest builds until I can't tell if I want to scream or cry or laugh hysterically. I press my knuckles against my mouth to hold it all in.
What would a baby mean right now? My job with the symphony already hangs by a thread. My little house barely fits me and Art. And Charlie...what would Charlie say? We haven't even defined what we are to each other, and now we might be parents?
Parents. The word lands like a boulder in my stomach.
I imagine Charlie holding a baby—our baby—with his blue eyes and my dark hair.
The image is so vivid that it steals my breath.
I've never thought of myself as particularly maternal.
I have my music, my horses. A baby has always been some distant possibility, not an immediate reality with a man I've been dating for mere weeks.
The ventilation fan hums overhead, a steady counterpoint to my racing heart. Outside the stall, I hear the bathroom door open, voices filtering in—wedding guests, laughing about something. I freeze, holding my breath until they're gone.
My eyes fall to my still-flat stomach. Is there really a life growing in there? Half me, half Charlie? The thought makes me dizzy.
"Breathe," I whisper to myself. "Just breathe."
I need to find Jane. Jane will know what to do. She always does. And then I'll need to talk to Charlie. Properly, away from curious eyes and wagging tongues.
I push myself up from the toilet, my knees still unsteady. My reflection in the small metal mirror on the stall door shows a woman I barely recognize—her eyes too big, her skin too pale. I smooth my hair, put on a little lip gloss, and reach for the lock.
At the sink, I wash my hands methodically, watching water swirl down the drain. I'm stalling, and I know it.
"You can do this," I tell myself softly.
One step at a time. Find Jane. Confirm what I already know in my gut. Then face Charlie and whatever comes next.
I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and walk toward the door. The music swells as I pull it open, the world continuing its dance while mine has tilted on its axis. I scan the crowded reception for Jane, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.
I spot Jane near the dessert table, her champagne flute poised midair as she laughs at something Trey is saying. Her eyes lock onto mine across the crowd, and her smile shifts into something softer, a question mark between us.
When I reach her, Jane hands her champagne to Trey without explanation and loops her arm through mine.
"Let's get some air," she says, steering me toward the terrace doors. Trey knows better than to follow.
Outside, the night wraps around us like velvet. The string quartet's notes drift faintly from inside, mingling with the rhythmic crash of waves below. Jane leads me to a quiet corner where potted palms create a natural screen from curious eyes.
"I'm late," I blurt out, the words escaping in a rush. "Five days late, Jane."
Jane's eyes widen, but she doesn't look shocked—more like she's processing information she already suspected.
"And you're never irregular?" she asks, her voice steady.
I shake my head. "Like clockwork. Twenty-eight days, every month since I was fifteen." My fingers twist together. "I forgot my pill. Twice. And now I'm craving horseradish, of all things."
"Like your mom did," Jane says softly, remembering the story I've told her before.
"Yeah." My voice cracks. "What am I going to do?"
She takes my trembling hands in hers, her grip warm and sure. "First, we're going to know for sure. There's a drugstore about ten minutes from here—I saw it on our way in. We'll go right now, get a test, and then we'll know what we're dealing with."
"But Charlie?—"
"Will be fine for thirty minutes. Trey will cover for us." Her tone leaves no room for argument. "Come on. The sooner we know, the sooner you can breathe."
Jane leads me through the reception hall, navigating around dancing couples and waiters with practiced ease. She whispers something to Trey as we pass, and he nods, raising his glass slightly in acknowledgment.
Outside, the valet brings Jane's SUV around. The leather seats are cool against my legs as I slide in. Jane cranks the air conditioning and pulls away from the hotel, the tires crunching over gravel before finding smooth pavement.
Jane reaches into the center console and pulls out a bottle of water, handing it to me without taking her eyes off the road.
"Drink," she instructs. "It'll help when we get there."
I crack the seal and take a long sip. The water slides down my throat, a stark contrast to the panic that's been building inside me since my bathroom revelation.
"What if I am?" I ask, my voice small against the hum of the engine. "What will I tell Charlie?"
Jane glances at me, her expression gentle but firm. "The truth. But one step at a time, okay? First the test, then decisions. And Tess?" She reaches over to squeeze my knee. "You're not alone in this. Whatever happens."
The simple promise loosens something tight in my chest. For the first time since looking at my tracking app, I take a full breath.
We pull into the parking lot of a drugstore, its fluorescent sign casting stark shadows across the asphalt. Jane kills the engine and turns to me.
"Ready?"
I nod, though ready is the last thing I feel.
The automatic doors buzz open, releasing a blast of air-conditioned air and the scent of cleaning products. At this hour, the store is nearly empty—just a bored cashier thumbing through their phone and an elderly man studying vitamin bottles with intense concentration.
Jane leads me straight to the family planning aisle, where boxes of condoms sit ironically next to rows of pregnancy tests. I stare at the options, suddenly overwhelmed.
"This one," Jane says decisively, plucking a blue box from the shelf.
I take the box from her, holding it like it might detonate. "I should probably get two, right? To be sure?"
Jane nods, selecting a different brand. "Smart girl."
At the register, I place the boxes on the counter and dig through my clutch for my credit card, avoiding the cashier's eyes. The tests beep as they're scanned, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet store.
"Bathroom's in the back," the cashier offers, nodding toward a sign in the rear of the store.
"Thanks," Jane answers for me, taking the small plastic bag.
The store bathroom is small and sterile, smelling faintly of industrial disinfectant. A single fluorescent bulb flickers overhead, washing out my already pale face in the spotted mirror. Jane locks the door behind us, and I'm grateful for her presence—I can't imagine doing this alone.
I take the tests into the stall, my hands shaking as I tear open the packages. The instructions are simple, but I read them twice anyway, delaying the inevitable.
"You okay in there?" Jane calls softly.
"Yeah," I answer, though my voice betrays me with a tremor.
I emerge from the stall a minute later, tests in hand, and place them carefully on a paper towel by the sink.
"Now we wait," I say.
Jane nods, leaning against the counter beside me. "Three minutes."
Neither of us speaks as the seconds tick by. I stare at my reflection, wondering if I already look different somehow. Of course I don’t, that’s totally ridiculous.
"What do you think Charlie will say?" I ask finally, needing to break the silence.
Jane considers this. "I think he'll be surprised. Scared, probably." She meets my eyes in the mirror. "But Tess, the way he looks at you...I don't think he'll run. And if he does, I’ll kill him."
"This isn't exactly what either of us signed up for."
"Few people sign up for their biggest adventures," Jane says, and somehow, in this sterile drugstore bathroom with its buzzing light and chipped tile, her words feel profound.
The test's timer beeps, a single electronic note that seems to echo off the walls. Jane and I both jump slightly, then exchange nervous smiles.
"Moment of truth," she says.
I take a deep breath and look down at the tests.
Two clear pink lines. Both of them.
Positive.
I'm pregnant. Oh. My. God.
"They’re positive," I whisper, though Jane can clearly see it herself.
She pulls me into a hug, her arms strong around me. I bury my face in her shoulder, not crying, not yet, just breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume as my world shifts on its axis.
"Okay," Jane says when she pulls back, her hands on my shoulders, eyes locked with mine. "This is our next adventure."
"I'm terrified," I admit.
"I know." She nods. "But you're also strong. And you won't be doing this alone."
I hug her again, so happy she’s my friend. “What am I going to do about Oliver? I won’t be able to ride once I get too big.”
“Oh, sweetie, we’ll figure all of that out. I’m here for you.”
I look down at the tests again, at those two pink lines that have just rewritten my future. Charlie's face flashes in my mind —his surprise at the dinner table, the way he froze when I said those words.
"I need to tell Charlie tonight," I say. "Before I lose my nerve."
Jane nods, reaching for my hand. "Then let's get you back to that wedding."