Chapter 8 #2
An hour passes. Emma pulls out some ridiculous game involving embarrassing Tessa with stories about her and Gage. I slip outside onto the porch while everyone's distracted.
The cold hits immediately, but it feels good. Clears my head.
The door opens behind me.
"You okay?" Tessa wraps a blanket around my shoulders.
"Yeah. Just needed air."
"You've been quiet tonight."
"I'm always quiet at parties."
"Not this quiet." She leans on the railing next to me. "Talk to me."
"I miss my parents," I blurt out.
She doesn't say anything, just waits.
"They would've loved this. The baby, I mean. They always wanted grandkids." I wipe my eyes. "My mom would've been so excited. She'd probably be planning the nursery and knitting blankets and driving me crazy."
"She would've been amazing."
"Yeah." I stare at the stars. "I wish they could meet it. The baby."
"They will. Somehow." Tessa puts her arm around me. "You'll tell stories. Show pictures. The baby will know them through you."
"How am I supposed to be a mom without my mom?" My voice cracks. "I don't know how to do this."
"Nobody does. That's the secret—we're all just winging it."
"That's terrifying."
"Yeah." She's quiet for a moment. "You remember when my mom got sick?"
"Of course."
"I kept thinking about all the things I'd never get to ask her if she died. All the mom advice I'd miss out on.”
"Exactly."
"But you know what I realized?" She looks at me. "She’s given me everything I need before she goes. Not instructions or a manual, but the important stuff. How to be strong. How to love hard. How to choose the right people."
"Your mom is amazing."
"So was yours. And they both raised us to figure things out." She squeezes my shoulder. "Your mom taught you everything you need. You just don't see it yet."
"What if I forget her? What if the baby never really knows who she was?"
"You won't forget. And the baby will know her through you." Tessa smiles. "You'll tell stories. Share pictures. Pass down her terrible jokes."
"They were pretty bad."
"The worst." We both laugh. "But that's what keeps people alive, you know? The stories. The little pieces we carry forward."
I wipe my eyes. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've been in Alaska too long. The cold freezes your brain into thinking deep thoughts."
"Is that what happened?"
"Either that or Gage is rubbing off on me."
"Gross."
She laughs. "You know what I mean."
We stand there, watching snow fall in the darkness. Tessa's getting married in a week. I'm having a baby in six.
How did we get here?
"You're going to be a great mom," Tessa says finally.
"You don't know that."
"I do. Because you're already thinking about what the baby needs. Already planning, worrying, caring. That's what makes a good parent."
"Or an anxious one."
"Both can be true." She turns to me. "But Patrice? You don't have to do this alone. You know that, right?"
"I've always done everything alone."
"I know. But you don't have to anymore." She pauses. "Stop waiting for him to leave. He's not going anywhere."
"You don't know that."
"I know Trace. He's Gage's best friend. And Gage says when Trace commits to something, he sees it through." She smiles. "Question is whether you'll let him."
"It's not that simple."
"It never is. But you don't have to figure it all out tonight."
"How?"
"One day at a time. One decision at a time." She smiles. "Start with staying through the wedding. See how it feels."
That I can do. One week. The wedding. No commitments beyond that.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?"
"I'll stay through the wedding. Then I'll figure out what's next."
She hugs me. "That works."
We head back inside, where the party's winding down. People are gathering their coats, exchanging hugs.
"Thank you for coming," Tessa tells everyone. "This meant so much."
"Congratulations, honey," Marnie hugs her tight. "You deserve all the happiness."
Dr. Martinez hugs me before she leaves. "Remember what I said. Less stress, more honesty."
"I'll try."
"Good. And call me if you need anything. Anytime."
After everyone's gone, it's just Tessa and me. Like old times, except everything's different now.
My phone buzzes.
Trace: Ready when you are. No rush.
"That's my ride," I say.
"He's a good guy, Patrice."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I think about his notes in the pregnancy book. His calls to Dr. Martinez. The way he's made space for me in his home without making me feel like a burden.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "I do."
"Good. Now go home."
Home. The word catches me off guard.
When did his cabin become home?
Trace pulls up ten minutes later, truck warm and waiting.
"How was it?" he asks as I climb in.
"Good. Overwhelming. Emotional."
"All the best chick parties are." He glances at me. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just tired."
"Bachelor party was pretty tame. Darts, bad jokes, and Gage getting roasted by every guy over forty."
"Sounds fun."
"It had its moments." He pauses. "How was the bachelorette party?"
"Not too bad. They were actually really nice about giving me some baby advice."
"Yeah? What'd they say?"
"That I'm not alone. That everyone's terrified. That you've been calling Dr. Martinez's office three times a week."
He winces. "She told you that?"
"She did."
"I just wanted to be prepared."
"I know." I look out the window at the snow. "It's a lot of information. Makes sense you'd have questions."
"You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad?"
"I don't know. Felt like going behind your back maybe."
"You were trying to help. That's not the same thing."
He's quiet for a moment. "How was seeing Tessa? You two get to talk?"
"Yeah. About the wedding. About my parents." My voice catches. "About being scared."
"And?"
"And she said I'll figure it out. That everyone does."
"She's right, you know."
We drive in comfortable silence, snow falling light outside.
"So tell me about Gage's bachelor party." I say.
"Like I said, it was pretty tame for a bachelor party. But there was this moment with a baby doll."
"I'm sorry, what?"
He grins. "One of the guys brought a doll to practice diaper changing on. It went about as well as you'd expect."
"You didn't."
"Oh, I did. And I failed spectacularly." He shakes his head. "Gage wasn't much better. We're both doomed."
"At least you're trying to learn."
"Trying being the key word." He glances at me. "Did they tell you what to expect with the baby?"
"Some. Mostly just reassurance that everyone's terrified and nobody knows what they're doing."
"Comforting."
"Oddly, yeah."
Back at the cabin, he makes tea without asking. We end up on the couch, same as every night this week.
It's becoming a routine, I realize. This end-of-day ritual where we decompress together. It should feel strange, but it doesn't.
"So," he says carefully. "Did the women of Ashwood Falls give you the third degree about me?"
"Oh god, yes. Marnie was particularly enthusiastic."
He laughs. "That sounds about right. What'd she say?"
"That you're good with your hands."
His ears turn red. "She meant woodworking."
"That's what Emma said."
"And what did you think she meant?"
I take a sip of tea to hide my smile. "I plead the fifth."
"Coward."
"Survivor."
He grins. "Fair distinction."
I set my mug down. "You really are taking this seriously."
"Of course, I am. This is..." He gestures helplessly. "This is everything."
The weight of those words sits between us.
"Trace—"
"I know. Too much." He sets his mug down. "I'm trying not to push. I know you need time."
"I do."
"So take it. I'm not going anywhere."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true." He looks at me directly. "I get that you're scared. I get that this is overwhelming. But I need you to know—I'm here. For the baby, yes, but also for you. However long it takes for you to believe that."
I look away. "What if I can't?"
"Can't what?"
"Believe it. Trust it." I stare at my tea. "What if I'm too broken from everything else to let anyone in?"
"You're not broken."
"You don't know that."
"I do." He shifts closer. "Because you're here. You came to Alaska, pregnant, to tell me about the baby. That's not broken. That's brave."
"That was desperation."
"Maybe. But you're still here." He pauses. "And I'm hoping you'll stay. At least through the wedding."
"I will. I promised Tessa."
"And after?"
"I don't know." It's the truth. "I can't think that far ahead yet."
"Then don't." He picks up his book from the side table. "Just focus on getting through the week."
"What's tomorrow?"
"Tuesday. Day of rest before the wedding chaos really kicks in." He grins. "I was thinking maybe we could actually leave the cabin. Do something normal."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Walk around town? Show you where everything is? You've barely seen Ashwood Falls."
"I've seen Tessa's cabin and your cabin and Dr. Martinez's office."
"Exactly. There's a whole town out there. General store, the lodge, the lake—well, frozen lake. But still pretty."
"You want to give me a tour?"
"Unless you'd rather sit inside and read pregnancy books all day."
"When you put it that way..." I smile despite myself. "Okay. A tour sounds good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. But nothing strenuous. I'm already winded just walking."
"Deal. Nice, easy, pregnant-woman-friendly tour of Ashwood Falls." He settles back with his book. "Fair warning though—it'll take about twenty minutes. Maybe thirty if we walk really slow."
"That's the whole town?"
"We're not exactly a metropolis."
"What do people do here?"
"Live. Work. Survive winters. Gossip about newcomers." He glances at me. "Mostly that last one, actually."
"Great. So everyone's been talking about me."
"Probably. But in a nice way. Small towns are like that—nosy but well-meaning."
"Comforting."
"You'll get used to it. Besides, being pregnant gives you automatic sympathy points."
"I'm using this kid for sympathy points already?"
"Survival strategy."
I lean back into the cushions. The baby's finally settled, no more acrobatics. Just a steady pressure against my ribs.
"Trace?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad I'm staying. For the wedding, I mean."
He looks up from his book. "I'm glad you're staying too."
"Just for the wedding," I clarify quickly.
"Right. Just for the wedding."
But something in his voice tells me he's hoping for more.
The fire crackles. Snow taps against the windows. Trace turns a page, and I close my eyes.
The baby shifts, rolling against my ribs. A week until the wedding. Six weeks until this baby arrives and everything changes again.
I have no idea what I'm doing.
But for tonight, Trace reads and the fire burns and I'm warm and safe. Tomorrow I can worry about the future. Tomorrow I can figure out what comes next.
Tonight, I just need to breathe.