Peppermints & Positivity
Chapter fifty-three
Marlow
Okay. Something has been off with me. Wrong.
My stomach’s been tied in knots more often than not, I can’t touch the food I normally crave, and the final straw—the one that really sent alarm bells ringing—was when I opened a can of diet soda and nearly gagged.
Me. The girl who used to swear she had carbonated aspartame running through her veins.
That’s when I knew something wasn’t right.
I’d planned to see my doctor next week, convincing myself it was just nerves from the job.
But at the Holiday Bazaar, I ended up running to the restroom three times to throw up—and I hadn’t even eaten since lunch.
By the third time, my body felt hollow, my hands gripping the edge of the sink just to stay upright. That’s when she walked in.
The new reporter. Shaun Kennedy’s replacement.
At first, panic spiked—I was afraid she’d see me like this, unkempt and miserable, and spin it into a story. But instead, she offered me one glance, one sympathetic smile, and asked a single question that knocked the air out of me.
“First trimester or second? My sister’s morning sickness lasted through both.”
Her words slam into me like a brick to the chest. My throat goes dry, my knees nearly buckle, and before she can ramble on about ginger chews or pregnancy pops or Gatorade, I bolt.
Straight to the nearest drugstore.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I just grab every single brand of pregnancy test I can find, my hands shaking so hard I nearly drop them all in the checkout line.
I know I’m supposed to be meeting Eslin right now but I will not be able to sit through any conversations with this gnawing at me.
And there’s no way I’m waiting until I get home.
So I lock myself in the public restroom, rinse out an old coffee cup I had rolling around in my car, and use it as my makeshift sample.
One test. Then another. Then another.
By the time I stopped, twelve little sticks were lined up in front of me. Twelve glaring results. Every one shouting the same thing: Pregnant.
My life is about to change forever.
At Holly’s, Eslin gently takes the mug I’ve been holding and swaps it for her own.
“Here,” she says softly, “drink this one instead. That one isn’t safe…” She pauses, and I swear I see tears threatening to spill in her eyes. “This one isn’t safe for the baby.”
I lift the cup, take a long sip, the peppermint cocoa warm and rich on my tongue, and glance back at her. Her face is frozen in shock—eyes wide, lips parted—like she still can’t quite process the words I’ve just laid in her lap.
Leaning forward, desperation curling through my voice, I whisper, “Es, please. You cannot tell Daddy.”
From behind the bar, Holly lets out a low whistle and mutters, “This shit just keeps getting better.”
But Eslin isn’t amused. Her voice is firm, almost pleading. “Marlow, you have to tell him. Please don’t make me carry another secret for you. Not this one.”
I shake my head, clutching one of the tests for dear life. “Just until I tell him about Declan. Once that’s out in the open, then I’ll…then I’ll tell him about the baby. One secret at a time. Please, Eslin?”
Her eyes search mine, steady and unrelenting, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she pulls me into her arms, holding me tight like she knows I’m unraveling right there in her embrace.
“Are you happy about this baby?” she whispers.
The question undoes me. A tear slips free, and I shake my head, then nod, then shake it again, my throat raw. Finally, the truth tumbles out, cracked and fragile. “I think I am. I’m having Declan Agassi’s baby.”
Eslin pulls out of our embrace and I remember she had something to tell me, too. “Hey! Didn’t you say you had something to talk to me about?”
She goes stiff. “Uh. Um. I…Let’s just save my news for later.”
“Eslin, back at the school it seemed important. Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
She nods. “I do. But, today, let’s just keep this about you, for now. I want to know how you’re going to tell Declan he’s going to be a daddy!”
Eslin
A baby.
The word circles my brain like a storm cloud. Thank goodness Grant sent a car for me because I don’t think I can focus enough to follow directions right now.
I thought keeping what I had with Grant from Marlow was already unbearable, but this…this is something else. Something fragile. Something that can’t be risked.
If I pushed her too hard, if I told her about me and Grant now, would it shatter her? Would it put too much stress on her, on the baby? I can’t do that. I won’t. So, I tell myself—just a little longer. Just until she finds her footing. Just until she’s ready.
The road to Lake Oconee unwinds before me, two narrow lanes flanked by tall Georgia pines that stretch toward the winter sky.
Their branches sway in the breeze, whispering secrets of their own, and I can’t help but feel like they’re mocking me.
Closer to the lake, the land opens wide.
Expanses of water glint silver beneath the fading light, dotted with docks and the silhouettes of cabins mixed with luxurious estates nestled in the trees.
It’s beautiful. Peaceful. The kind of place that should quiet a racing mind. But mine refuses to still.
Because all I can think about are the secrets stacked inside me: Marlow’s marriage to Declan. Her pregnancy. My affair—my love—with Grant.
Secrets and lies, each one heavier than the last. And now I’m heading toward the one place that feels like release: his cabin. His arms. The man who makes me laugh until I can’t breathe, who touches me like I’m something precious instead of someone drowning in guilt.
I lean my head back against the seat and sigh just as the lake comes into full view, whispering to myself like a prayer: Just a little longer, Eslin. Hold it together just a little longer.