Chapter 24
The phone rings twice before Mark answers. “Madison?” His voice is cautious, surprised.
“Hey.” The word comes out softer than I intend, barely more than a breath. I grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white, and force myself to keep talking. “Sorry to call you out of the blue like this.”
“No, it’s fine.” There’s a rustling on his end, like he’s shifting position, getting comfortable. “I’m glad you called. It’s good to hear from you.”
I close my eyes, letting the familiarity of his voice wash over me.
Ten years together, and I still know the exact cadence of how he speaks, the way his tone lifts when he’s genuinely pleased about something.
It should feel strange, talking to him like this after everything, but instead it feels dangerously easy.
“How are you?” I ask, falling into the pattern of small talk like a well-worn sweater. “How’s the new job?”
“I’m good. The job…it’s good. Different from what I was doing before, but I like the team.”
“That’s great.” I pause, grasping for something easy to say. “Have you…have you met anyone?” That’s not the right question to ask, but somehow it feels like all of this will be so much easier if he has. Like I won’t have to feel so guilty for possibly moving on with Beckett…maybe.
I still don’t know how I start something with someone like Beckett when I’m pregnant with another man’s baby. Beckett is…he deserves so much better than the mess my life has become.
Mark laughs, low and warm. “No. Not yet. I’ve been focusing on settling in, figuring out the city.”
“Right. Of course.”
Silence stretches between us. Even with our history—or maybe because of it—it’s not awkward, but it’s heavy.
I have no doubt Mark knows there’s a much bigger reason for this call.
I should just tell him. Rip the bandage off and get it over with.
But the words stick in my throat, thick and immovable.
“Sooo,” Mark says, drawing out the word. “How’s the inn?
“The inn’s good. Busy. We’re fully booked through New Year’s.”
“That’s fantastic, Mads. Really.”
The nickname slips out naturally, and neither of us acknowledge it. I stare at the calendar on the wall, yesterday’s date circled in red. December twelfth. A date that will mean something for the rest of my life, whether I want it to or not.
“Mark,” I start and immediately stop.
I don’t know how to tell him this. Not only because it’s such a surprise, but it changes everything for both of us. No matter what Mark decides here, his life will be changed forever.
“Madison.” The way he says my name, patient and familiar, makes my chest tight. “Come on,” he says gently.
“Come on what?” It’s so stupid of me to play dumb. We both know I’d never call out of the blue like this without a specific reason. And asking him how his life’s going isn’t it.
“You know what.” He sighs, but there’s no anger in it, only resignation. “We may not have worked out in the end, but I still know you better than I know myself. You didn’t call me at ten o’clock on a Saturday to ask about my job and dating life. What’s going on?”
My heart pounds against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that makes it hard to breathe. I open my mouth to speak, but close it again, the words refusing to form.
“Is everyone okay?” Mark’s voice shifts, concern bleeding through. “Your parents? Brothers?”
“Everyone’s fine,” I manage, my voice cracking on the last word. “I just…I got some news.”
“What kind of news?” There’s panic in his voice now, and I hate that I’m causing him any kind of distress. It’s not fair to him, especially when I’m about to shift his entire world.
I take a shaky breath and plunge forward before I can lose my nerve.
“I don’t know how else to say this, so I’m just going to say it.
” My hand finds my stomach, pressing against the small curve I’ve only just begun to accept.
“I went on a ride with a friend yesterday. I got thrown. Lost consciousness. My friend called an ambulance and they obviously took me to the hospital and ran some tests.”
“Jesus, Madison. Are you—?”
“I’m fine,” I rush to assure him. “Sorry, I should have started somewhere else,” I mutter, more to myself than Mark.
“Madison, just tell me what’s going on,” Mark demands, his voice still so incredibly gentle.
“They ran my bloodwork to make sure it was safe to run some additional tests, and…” My eyes fall shut as I force the words out. “I’m pregnant, Mark.”
The silence on the other end is absolute. I count the seconds—one, two, three—my pulse thundering in my ears.
When I make it to thirty, I can’t help but speak. “Mark?”
“Yeah,” he chokes, his voice hollow. “I’m here. Just…you’re pregnant?”
“Eighteen weeks, to be exact.” My eyes fall to the hand still resting on my stomach. The curve is there, but it’s so small, so easy to miss. And yet it’s as real as the stool beneath me, as the cup of coffee in front of me, as my growing feelings for the man I know I’m going to have to let go.
There’s another stretch of silence, longer this time, and I let Mark break it. I can hear him breathing, slow and measured, like he’s trying to process what I’ve told him, and I can’t blame him. I felt the same way when the doctor dropped the bomb on me.
“How?” he asks quietly after another minute of silence.
I explain the best I can, the words mechanical, sounding rehearsed somehow.
“The depo shot. It’s normal not to have a period while you’re on it.
And even after you stop, it can be up to a year before your cycle normalizes again.
Things at the inn have been so busy, and with my family, I just didn’t think anything of it.
The possibility never even crossed my mind. ”
“Eighteen weeks,” he repeats, like he can’t wrap his head around it.
“I know.”
“And you’re sure it’s…” He trails off, but I know what he’s asking. “No, I don’t—”
“Yes.” I squeeze my eyes shut, tears pricked at the corners.
There’s a part of me that can’t believe Mark would ever ask that question, that he’d ever doubt my faithfulness to him, but the other part understands that’s not what’s driving the question. It’s disbelief we’re having this conversation at all.
That doesn’t stop me from answering his question, wanting him to know without a shadow of a doubt. “The baby’s yours, Mark.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and unmovable. I hear him exhale, long and shaky, and for a moment neither of us speak.
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
I flinch, the question hitting like a physical blow. “How can you ask me that?”
“Shit,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’re right. That’s a stupid question. I’m sorry, I just—I don’t know what to say.”
I prop my elbows on the counter, letting it hold me up. “I don’t either. This isn’t exactly a conversation I ever thought I’d be having.”
“Madison—” He stops, pausing to take a breath before he starts again. “What do you want from me?”
The question is so simple, so direct, that it catches me off guard.
I think about everything I could ask for.
Money. Support. For him to step up and be a father to this baby.
But I don’t need the money, and I know I’ll have all the support I could possibly need from my family and this town.
And most of all, I know having kids was something he never wanted.
Asking him to be a father to a child he likely doesn’t want feels like it’d do more harm than good.
“Only what you want to give,” I tell him quietly.
The silence this time is different. Weighted with a decision impossible to make.
“I never wanted kids,” Mark says, his voice careful and measured.
“I know,” I whisper.
“We talked about that when we broke up,” he continues like I never said anything.
“And even with this news…nothing’s changed.
There isn’t some deep-seated part of me that’s been buried and is now uncovered because you’ve told me I’m going to be a father.
I don’t feel that. I’m not sure I ever will. ”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
I’m not surprised. He’s right, we talked about what a future would look like if we stayed together.
It was probably one of the most honest conversations we ever had.
One that happened as everything about us was falling apart.
He was clear about what he wanted—what he didn’t want.
I didn’t fault him for his honesty then, and I won’t fault him now.
“I understand,” I tell him, meaning it with all that I am.
“You’re not…you’re not angry?”
“No.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “We didn’t plan this. I didn’t expect it to change anything about our situation. I just didn’t feel right keeping this from you. You deserve to know you’re going to have a son.”
“It’s a boy?” he asks, a hint of wonder in his tone.
“Yeah, it’s a boy.” The smile on my lips surprises me, but it feels right. Being excited about the life I’m growing.
There’s another pause, less charged this time. More like the comfortable silences we used to share back when we were still us.
“Are you happy?” It’s such a simple question, but it’s more loaded than he realizes.
I think I’m still in shock more than anything else, but underneath all of that uncertainty, there’s a new warmth inside me that wasn’t there before, and I don’t know what else to call it other than happiness.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I’m happy.”
“Good.”
Although the news of my pregnancy was shrouded in shock and the trauma of my fall, there was still an innate shift that happened within me when I found out I was pregnant.
My life came into sharper focus with a new purpose.
The realization that I’ll be forever responsible for loving and protecting another human being bloomed in my heart, and I feel that sense of purpose now.