Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
EMERSON
Five Years Ago
My hand trembles as I stare at the window of the pregnancy test in my grasp. There’s a buzzing sound in my ears as panic swirls in my chest, threatening to rise with each breath I rasp.
I can’t be pregnant…
The timing is all wrong. Ford’s father’s trial is beginning soon, and we’ll have to deal with the fallout, whatever that may be. My big break might be just around the corner. My first major audition is next week , for Christ’s sake.
Not to mention the fact neither of us has a cent to our names…
“Oh my God…” My words are a whisper, meant for no one, until I realize I’m not, in fact, alone. Eyes dropping from the blatantly positive lines to my flat stomach, I lay the palm of my hand atop it, eyes widening in wonder as the panic shifts to all-consuming joy. Because suddenly, everything else ceases to matter.
Tears fill my eyes, and my voice trembles when I murmur, “Hello, you.”
Raw emotion clogs my throat, and my chest feels tight as I’m filled with awe at the knowledge that right there , beneath my hand, is living proof of the love shared between Ford and me.
Visions of our future flash through my mind. Ford’s face as I tell him the news shifts into him pressing a kiss to my heavily pregnant stomach. That visual slowly morphs into him cuddling a pink bundle to his broad chest, a smile wider than the Grand Canyon creasing his face.
Joyful tears crest my lashes, streaming down my cheeks to splash onto the hand curved protectively over the space our miracle occupies as a sense of rightness settles over me.
“Well? What does it say?”
Hayley’s impatient voice from the other side of the door bursts my bubble, and I quickly glance around, spotting the spare stick poking out of the packet.
“Hold on…umm…I think it’s a dud. I’ll try the other test.”
I grab the spare and rip it open, turning on the tap before holding it beneath the stream of water. Hayley tuts loudly, and I hear her feet begin to pace once again, as they had been before.
Knowing that I need to tell our baby’s father before anyone else, I quickly ram the positive stick into the back pocket of my jeans, carefully arranging my oversized tee to cover it. Then I grab the spare stick, unlock the door, and waltz into Hayley’s bedroom with an artfully careless look on my features.
“You realize this is a waste of time, right? It’s the stomach flu, nothing more, nothing less.”
Hayley squints her eyes, looking me up and down with a wary expression. “Hmm…I dunno. You’re giving me all the preggo vibes, Em. I mean, come on ! You’ve been nauseous practically every day for more than a month now. You’ve been falling asleep at rehearsal, forgetting stupid things, and your boobs are bigger too?—”
“Seriously, Hayles, quit it. Look .” Knowing it will be negative, I hold up the test and spear my far too-in-tune sister with skeptical eyes. “Negative, like I said it would be.”
I toss the test in her trash can and grab my backpack from her bed. “Now, I’m going home to my boyfriend, and we’ll see you later for enchiladas, okay?”
She nods once, pressing her lips closed pointedly, and I quickly escape her studio before she can point out any more painfully obvious symptoms that my brain chose to ignore.
I quickly jog to the nearest subway station, impatient to be home. To tell Ford. To cement our plans now that there’s a little one on the way.
The thought sustains me on the ten-minute journey to my stop, and as I rush up the steps and onto the street, I slam to a halt, spotting a store I’ve passed a million and one times but never had cause to really see before now.
La Belle Mode .
A children’s clothing boutique.
As I step closer, my eyes widen when I notice a simple white vest with a single coral peony on the center of the chest and the words Dad’s Girl emblazoned beneath. Without conscious thought, I enter the store and, thirty seconds later, reemerge with the same vest inside the bag in my hand.
Several minutes later, I’m practically bursting with joy when I jog up the steps to my parents’ brownstone and unlock the door, calling for Ford as I rush from room to room.
“Where you gone to, Cowboy?”
I’m frowning when I open my bedroom door, the room we’ve shared for these last three months, and my stomach dips when I spot an envelope on the bed.
My feet bring me closer as my eyes flit around the space, and dread curls within me when I notice all his things are gone—his guitar, his boots, his cowboy hat…
And when I open the envelope, even though I instinctively know what’s coming, a keening cry pierces the air when I read the sentence on the page.
I can’t do it.
Four words. That’s all it takes for my whole world to come crumbling down.
No elaboration. No explanation. Not even his name.
Four words. Nine letters. And an absence that speaks louder than any words at all.
I shake my head, my breathing accelerating when I reread the words, needing to understand what happened. Where he is…why he left…
Quickly, I tug my cell from my backpack and dial his number, barely daring to breathe as I wait for the call to connect, but it’s out of service. As I listen to the beeping in my ear, the note flutters from my hand to the ground, and the realization that he’s gone crashes into me with all the force of a freight train.
In that moment, my heart splinters into a million fragments, a shattered and useless organ making my chest ache painfully. All I can do is crawl onto the bed we made love in just this morning to wrap myself in sheets that still smell like him. As I inhale his beloved outdoorsy scent, I curl into a ball and cry silent tears until I can’t cry anymore.
I lay unmoving, staring into nothingness until the room turns dark, and the evening shadows encroach. My mouth is parched, and the need to hydrate is stronger than my desire to wallow, so I finally move, stretching my aching body as I edge off the bed.
My limbs feel heavy as I push myself to stand, stopping when I feel a sharp pain in my lower abdomen that makes me wince.
“ Ouch .”
When I take a step forward, the pain worsens, and a bone-chilling fear trickles down my spine as I press my palm over my stomach. Somewhere in the distance, I hear Hayley’s voice downstairs, but I ignore her, intent on getting to the bathroom to splash some cool water on my suddenly too-hot cheeks.
I’ve barely crossed the threshold to my ensuite as spots appear in my vision, panic rising in my chest when I dimly register that my head feels faint before the room fades to black.