43. Helen
HELEN
I moan to the ceiling. My fingers are deep inside my core while my thumb is furiously rubbing my clit. The mattress trembles beneath me.
“Fuck…” The word falls dead and pointless.
It’s not the same anymore. Fantasizing about Timothée Chalamet used to feel indulgent. Now it feels like patchwork.
I don’t want Liam, and I want him at the same time. Explain that without sounding unhinged. And yes, my attempt to “come to sleep” was a complete failure. I tried so hard to keep him out of my head that I sabotaged the entire thing. Pride: 1. Pleasure: 0.
Unfortunately, that’s not even the problem. There’s something else I’ve been avoiding. I stay under the shower longer than necessary, letting the hot water run over me like it might buy me time.
Still wrapped in a towel, I stand in front of the mirror and count the days again.
My cycle has always been predictable. Except now it’s four days late.
“Don’t do this, please don’t.”
That sounds smaller than the thought feels.
I told Liam I wasn’t pregnant. I was certain. I can still see myself downstairs, hand on hip, giving him that clipped, confident “no.”
I press my palm low on my stomach like that might rewind something.
Okay. Facts. I’m on the pill. I’ve been on the pill. Except—
“Oh no...”
It was one time.
That week when I stopped sleeping because the house might not be ours much longer. I’d missed one, then I doubled up the next day and moved on. That was the only time.
Wasn’t it?
My mind scrambles back through the days. My routine fell apart, my work hours stretched into the night, and I spent more time on the phone than in bed. And when it comes to the pill, I’m not even sure anymore.
My knees weaken.
Please don’t let this be it.
When I told Liam I was on the pill, I meant it. I wasn’t trying to trick him. It wasn’t a lie.
But biology doesn’t care.
And somehow Victor’s voice finds me, from back when I was too young and he was disturbingly well-informed. Stress can affect absorption. Cortisol can interfere. The body processes medication differently when it’s overwhelmed, even with the kind meant to keep you from getting pregnant.
I lean my forehead against the tile.
What the hell am I going to do?
Alaska whines right outside. Her shadow blocks the gap between the door and the floor.
There’s no other choice. I have to know now.
I open the drawer, take the test out, and follow the instructions on autopilot.
When it’s done, I hold it in my hand without looking at it.
I leave the bathroom with my arm hanging at my side.
Alaska’s head tilts, ears perked, as if she’s trying to decode the human drama unfolding over a small white plastic stick.
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
I don’t feel nauseous. I just feel…off. That was why I started counting and bought the test last night.
Then I look.
Two lines.
Two very clear lines.
“Oh.”
And then I laugh—a short, disbelieving laugh—which immediately tips into tears. Which turns into both at once, because apparently my hormones have already begun messing with my emotional stability.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.
Alaska decides this is her moment. She winds around my legs until I sink to the floor, and then she climbs straight into my lap.
“I know, I know,” I tell her through tears. “You’re going to be promoted.”
She licks my cheek.
My phone buzzes on the desk.
“Can you grab that?” I ask Alaska.
She hops off my lap and sits upright, like I’m moments away from dropping something edible.
“Right. Still working on advanced commands.”
I push myself off the floor and reach for the phone. It’s Liam.
My heart leaps and my stomach does a happy roll. Some reckless part of me is already rehearsing how to tell him. But reality shuts it down. I already scared him with those stupid baby jokes. How would he take this when it isn’t hypothetical anymore?
I drop into my chair.
God, I did send those jokes. I’d just been around Lio, baby powder in the air and on my clothes, and it just made me…buoyant. Those texts felt clever in the moment, but in any other situation, I would’ve known they wouldn’t land well with Liam. Was that some subconscious warning shot?
The phone keeps vibrating in my hand. I hit decline.
Yet I need to talk to someone who isn’t a dog with droopy eyes and enthusiasm like a tennis ball factory exploding.
So I call my sister. It’s not as late in LA right now.
“Leany!” Olivia sings, bright as always.
“Hey, Via.”
There’s music and laughter in the background, maybe the sound of a dorm hallway.
“Okay, wait, I’m stepping outside,” she says. “We’re packing. Mexico tomorrow, baby.”
“Mexico?”
“Road trip. We’ll drive from LA to Tijuana, then cruise a little farther south,” she says.
“Who are you with?”
“Huh…I’m sensing designated big sister.”
“You’re dodging.”
“Pru and the girls. And before you ask—no, Mr. Handsome is in Australia.”
I roll my eyes. She’d told me Liam’s friend who rode with her to JFK had been visiting, though she still insists he’s not her boyfriend.
“Just be careful, okay?” I say, like she’s still fifteen.
“Relax. No dodgy men, no mysterious surfers, no tequila-induced decisions. Strictly sunscreen and tacos.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Leany. I can hear the mm-hmm.” She pauses then laughs. “I promise. We’re responsible. Mostly.”
I pace my bedroom, Alaska still following me.
“Via, I’m not sure why I’m calling you, but really…I’ve got no one else to tell this.”
“Sis? You’re being funny.”
I inhale. “I’m pregnant.”
There’s a second of silence.
Then a shriek. “Oh my God! Oh my God! I’m going to be an aunt?”
Now I start crying. “Yes.”
“Leany!” she squeals. “That’s amazing! That’s—oh my God, I need to sit down.”
There’s a thud on the other end, followed by the squeak of what I’m guessing is her swivel chair.
“What did Liam say?” she demands. “He must be losing his mind. In the best way, I mean.”
Oh, he’d lose his mind all right.
“He doesn’t know.”
“What? Is he…is he that kind of asshole that I’m thinking about right now?”
“No. No.” I wipe my face again. “He’s not. He’s just been funny about fatherhood. It’s complicated.”
“Oh, Leany!”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you. You’ve got midterms and Mexico and…I don’t know…existential crises.”
“Excuse me,” she says primly. “I’ve spent more than six months at Stanford. I am wiser a notch, you know? I study philosophy. I’m basically licensed to comfort people.”
She does sound different. She’s her own woman, but in my head she’s still the one who used to look at me before deciding how brave to be. Now I’m waiting for her to tell me I can be.
“Have you even tried to tell him?” she asks.
“No.”
“There you go. That’s your problem, not his.”
“Ugh…you’re siding with him now?”
“Okay, you want neutral? I’ll give you neutral. Yes, it’s nice to have a billionaire husband. But you don’t need an asshole to raise a baby. Yes, being a single mother is hard, but you have me. I’ll be in New York as much as I can, be the cool aunt who teaches the baby questionable song lyrics.”
“Please don’t.”
“Fine. Educational songs only,” she says. “You’re going to be an incredible mom, Leany.”
“What would you know about that?”
She gives a small huff of laughter, then her voice becomes more thoughtful. “I don’t remember our mom. Anna’s the closest I’ve ever had to one. And I know you two don’t always get along, but I know what it feels like to be cared for.”
She’s right.
“I’ve heard enough about our real mom to know she was remarkable,” Olivia continues. “And you carry that same heart. You always have.”
“Thanks, Via.”
“And for the record,” she adds quickly, “I never believed Anna when she tried to blame you for Mom’s death. Not for a second.” She clears her throat. “Anyway. I’m rambling. Ignore me, okay?”
No, we’re not opening that door today.
“So,” I say, “back to my predicament. The solution is I just have to talk to him.”
“Yeah. Don’t make it more complicated than it’s supposed to be. You’re the queen of overthinking. This is not a philosophy essay.”
“What if he asked me to get rid of the baby?” I ask nervously.
She’s silent for a second, but I can hear the fire building before she answers. “No way!” she snaps. “I’m on your side, but that? No. He won’t. I don’t see him reacting that way. But whatever happens, you won’t face it alone. We’ll figure it out together.”
I nod through tears, exaggerating as if I want her to see.
“I won’t be able to take it, Via,” I whisper. “If he says he’s not ready, or if he looks disappointed. I’d rather not hear it at all.”
“Hey,” she says gently. “You are already glowing, I can hear it. You want this. Give him the chance to rise to it.”
Alaska nudges my hand again, tail thumping.
“You’re not alone,” Olivia adds. “You’ve got me. You’ve got a very confused dog—I presume—and you’ve got a tiny human who already picked you.”
That undoes me. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a mom,” I whisper.
“And I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt,” she says. “We’re going to be so cute.”
A laugh escapes me as my hand rests over my stomach.
Olivia hears love in Liam’s future while I still see his face when he asked the question. And I haven’t forgotten what Victor told me about him using me as a bet.
But the bottom line is, I’m not ready to tell him.
Because I’m not ready to hear the truth.