Chapter 21 Angelie
ANGELIE
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the pharmacy bag looming like a threat.
Okay, come on, you can do this. Whatever result that test turns up, it can’t even come close to the shock of how I felt the last time I took a pregnancy test, right?
I’ve already been through the worst, and I just need to get it over with and…
And find out if I am really pregnant, for the second time in my life, with the same four men in the picture as potential fathers to my new child.
Ugh. I rub my hand over my face, trying to keep myself from getting too caught up in the enormity of that eventuality.
I can already imagine the gossip that has been circling around town since the moment I stepped out of that pharmacy—how they’ll whisper behind my back, gossip about the possibilities of what might have happened to render me pregnant all over again.
Did you see that she got a pregnancy test? I know, I think she thought she got away with it, burying it under piles of stuff like that…but who do you think it is? Does it have anything to do with the firefighters, do you think…?
You can’t get away with anything in this town, try as you might, and I am no exception.
I guess the best I can hope for is to keep my shit together and deflect any attempts at questions that are thrown in my direction.
People can think whatever they want, and I don’t have to give them answers, or anything close to it, actually.
I just need to take this test, figure out one way or another what’s going on…
And pray that I can handle whatever result I end up with at the end of the day.
It could just be the stress, I reason with myself, as I turn to grab the pharmacy bag and head to the bathroom.
The quads are asleep right now, all curled up together having a nap, which gives me at least ten minutes before one of them springs to life and demands my attention for one thing or another.
The bag rustles in my hand as I reach the door, and I pause, holding my breath to see if any of the kids will notice.
Maybe I’m almost hoping that they’re going to come busting out of the bedroom and get in my way, so I don’t have to go through with this.
But silence settles over the house and I know I don’t have any choice.
Three weeks. That’s how late my period is, three weeks—and I usually go like clockwork, so it doesn’t exactly have me feeling confident.
Especially since it’s now been almost two months since these men have returned to my life.
They came, of course, with a fire that drove me out of my home, an inferno that burned down my place of work, so it’s not as though there hasn’t been ample reason for me to stress myself into missing a period or two.
And yet, something at the back of my mind will not let go of the possibility that it’s something far, far bigger than that.
I unwrap the test and do my best to ignore the way my hands are shaking. What did Dylan say about that house they’re building for me, that it’s going to have five bedrooms? Well, we might need to add one more, if it turns out I’m carrying another child…
I rush through taking the test before I can spook myself out of it, trying not to think back on the one I took in my dorm room four years ago, the shock of seeing it come up positive with those two pink lines laying out the rest of my life in an instant.
Drumming my fingers on the side of the sink, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on something, anything other than what’s going through my head right now.
I find my mind drifting to the guys, just as it seems to do all the time these days.
All four of them. I can’t believe I’ve been with all four of them again, let alone all together like I was that first night.
Even now, thinking about it brings a thrill to my body that seems to overwhelm everything else—their touch all over me, the feeling of them moving inside of me, their bodies claiming me over and over again.
The taste of them, the sounds of them, the feel of them, the smell of them.
It should be overwhelming, really, but instead, it always leaves me craving even more.
We’ve only hooked up a few times since that night—doesn’t feel like I have much business distracting them from the work that needs to be done at the school and in my new home, no matter how tempting it might be.
And while I have come down a few times to cast my eye over the work that’s being done, I haven’t dared to broach the subject of what comes next with them.
Hell, I don’t know if I’m ready to hear the answer, whatever it might be. If they want to stay, then I guess we can figure out what our relationship looks like between us, and if they want to go…
They’ve spent so much time establishing themselves, working hard to ensure that they’ve earned their stripes as firefighters across the county.
I’ve done a little digging online since life has gotten back to normal, to find that they have a few dozen heroic news stories to their name, though none of them have brought it up to me once.
I can’t imagine that they’ll be so keen to give that up, if they have a choice in the matter, and I don’t want to be the one to keep them pinned here against their will if I can help it. I don’t want to be the one they have to leave it all behind for, when I’m certain that they’re far from ready.
Suddenly, it strikes me that the two minutes must be up, and I force myself to open my eyes and take a look at the plastic strip in front of me.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end when I realize what I’m staring at.
Positive.
For a second, it doesn’t sink in at all—I just stand there, my heart drumming into my ribs, legs like jelly below me as I tighten my grip on the sink to keep from keeling over.
My eyes begin to blur, so much so that I can almost convince myself that I’m seeing this wrong.
But when I grab for the test and lift it a little closer, there’s no denying what I’m looking at.
A positive test. A promise that this is really happening.
That I have, somehow, managed to get myself pregnant by these men all over again.
And just like that, it feels as though I’ve been tossed bodily back in time, thrown back through history to the moment I discovered the first pregnancy. The same swirl of shock courses through me, the same shame and doubt as I realize that I don’t know precisely who the father is.
How could this have happened again?
I know the answer, but I don’t want to let myself so much as think it right now. Because there is something about those men, whether I want to admit it or not, that I just can’t let go of. Something that I don’t dare let slip through my fingers the moment I get a chance to taste it again.
And now, look where it’s gotten me, into a mess that exactly mirrors the one I was in four years ago.
I cram the test into the bottom of the trash can, heaping up as much crap on top of it as I can in the hopes of keeping it hidden.
The last thing I need is one of the kids dragging it out of there and asking me what exactly it means, when I don’t even have an answer to that for myself.
I stare at myself in the mirror. Pregnant. Again.
What do I do?
I know I have options here, options nobody would blame me for taking, options that, in any rational world, make a whole lot of sense.
But when I think about taking those paths, my heart twists in protest. I already have four perfect children from a night with those guys, and the thought of another…
it’s not something I can just pretend I don’t want, no matter how much stress and pressure it might pile on me in the process.
Which means I have to find a way to tell them.
That’s the difference here, the thing that separates this from what happened before.
All of them have told me, in one way or another, that if they had known about the pregnancy, they would have come back to be there for me.
Well, now they get to find out if they can put their money where their mouth is.
If they really want to be here for me, they have a chance to do just that.
If I can find a way to put it into words, of course.
Suddenly, I hear a noise from down the hallway, and I snap back into reality, rushing out of the bathroom and plastering a smile on my face in the hopes that I can convince these kids that I’m entirely in control of myself.
I turn the corner and find Chrissie standing there, rubbing her face and frowning at me. “I woke up and you…”
“I’m right here, baby,” I promise her, leaning down to scoop her up into my arms and hold her close to me. She wraps her hands around me, and I close my eyes for a moment, trying to just breathe in the moment.
Can I really do this whole baby thing again? I feel as though the newborn phase is only just behind me, and the thought of jumping straight into it again but this time with four toddlers to care for is almost overwhelming.
“Come on, you need to get your rest,” I tell her gently, pressing a kiss against her cheek.
I carry her back through to the bedroom, where the others are still asleep, each sprawled on their own bed.
I can barely fit all four in the room as it stands now, having to press a couple against the wall while the others almost block the door from opening all the way.
I plant Chrissie down once more, pulling the covers up and over her, and perch on the edge of her bed as I stroke her hair and watch her begin to doze off again.
I haven’t told them about the house the guys are building for us.
I don’t know how to put it into words, not when I could just wait to show them when it’s done.
Aside from seeing the blueprints, I haven’t been up there to visit myself, not wanting to get excited about it until it really starts to take shape.
Right now, the enormity of the job at hand is so overwhelming that I know I’ll be sucked in by how impossible it seems before I can stop myself…
Or maybe I’ll just be faced with the reality that it’s not going to be long till the guys have finished their work here. And when they’re done, they’ll likely be back on the road, picking right back up where they left off.
Even imagining them at that distance again, it stings my chest, like a thread has been pulled taut between us that will shatter at any moment and leave me groping to put the pieces back together.
I don’t know how they’ve managed to make themselves such a home in my heart again so quickly, but there’s no denying it now that they’re there, and I can’t just ignore it and pretend like things will go back to how they were before.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been nurturing a part of them here with me all this time.
I still might not know who the father of my children actually is—the ones who are asleep before me or the one I’m carrying inside of me right now—but they always seem to have carried so much of all four of them with them.
Dylan’s confidence in Chrissie, Callum’s thoughtfulness in Jake, Joe’s warmth in Chuck, Carlisle’s focus in Stephanie.
All those overlapping factors that have left me with an indelible mark in the shape of those men on my life that I can’t and don’t want to shake.
Once I’m sure that Chrissie is asleep again, I move to the door and pull it shut quietly, sinking down into a crouch for a moment to catch my breath.
Well, there’s only one thing for it—I’m going to have to tell them about it. They said they would have been there for me if they’d had the chance before, now they have the opportunity to prove themselves.
Not like I have any clue what I’m going to say to them when the time comes, or what it’s even going to look like when it gets here. Not like I have any plan in place for how to break the news to them.
Bake the positive pregnancy test into a cake and cut them all a slice? I manage a small smile at the thought, though the weight of it all feels too enormous to escape out from under right now.
Finally, I drag myself to my feet again, and head for the stairs to make myself something to eat.
No matter what kind of shock I’m in right now, I’m eating for two from this point forward, and I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to have as much as I want.
Plus, I need to call the doctor, book an appointment to confirm the pregnancy and make sure that I haven’t managed to work myself into a panic over nothing more than a false positive.
As I stand next to the stove to heat up some soup, I plant my hands on my belly—that very same spot that held the quads once, the memory of their presence held in loose skin and stretchmarks.
I doubt that the baby within me is much more than the size of a paperclip right now, hardly bigger than a cluster of cells, but that doesn’t stop me from whispering to it there in the middle of my kitchen.
“Hey, baby,” I greet them. “Looking forward to meeting you in person, you know…”
And though they can’t so much as acknowledge my existence right now, I’m almost sure I can feel a little flutter in my stomach, as though they’re greeting me right back.