30. Ivy
Chapter 30
Ivy
G rim determination has quickly backslid into sheer panic.
My heart is doing its best impression of a jackhammer as I push through the front door of the tiny doctor's office a block off the main street. I half-expect the world to collapse on me right here in the waiting room, but the walls stay put, and I’m still standing.
I take a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. I’ve been rehearsing this in my head since I realized what might be happening, but now that I’m here, I feel like I’m going to explode into a million panicked pieces.
I came to the mountains to avoid the scandalous headlines and inadvertently created a new one.
It’s perfect, really. A reminder that I can’t do anything right. The weight of it all crashes in on me as I stand there, frozen in the entryway.
A part of me wants to bolt, to run, but my feet feel cemented to the floor. I should’ve known. It’s not like I didn’t see it coming. Hell, I’ve been preparing for my life to fall apart for months now.
I came here to escape the fallout from everything—Caleb, the betrayal, the cameras. They were everywhere, constantly in my face, reminding me that I wasn’t just some girl who made a mistake. I was Ivy Blake, the “party girl”, the ditzy socialite with a knack for causing drama. I hated that version of me, the one everyone else wanted me to be. The one my family pushed me to be, all for the sake of their precious fame.
I was suffocating, drowning in a world where every decision was filtered through a lens. The constant parties, the flashing cameras, the glamorous bullshit. It all felt like a trap. A cage. I wasn’t Ivy Blake, the woman everyone thought they knew. I wasn’t some celebrity wannabe or reality TV star.
I just wanted out. But it was never going to happen. So, I found happiness where I could.
I thought I’d found it with Caleb.What a joke…
I rented a cabin in the mountains, thinking it would be the perfect escape. A place where the world couldn’t reach me, where I could get some peace and figure out what the hell to do with myself. But nothing ever works out the way I hope it will.
Because I never do anything right.
The cabin was a scam. And now I’m here. Pregnant.
I never meant for any of this to happen. I just wanted to escape the lies, the cameras, the perfect little box they had put me in. Instead, I’ve only built myself a bigger scandal.
The receptionist looks up from her desk, a warm smile spreading across her face like she’s been expecting me. I try to return the gesture, but it comes out as more of a grimace. My cheeks feel stiff, like they’ve forgotten how to fake it.
The office is eerily quiet, the kind of silence that makes you hyper-aware of your own breathing. I might be hyperventilating.
I don’t even notice the doctor until she’s right in front of me. She’s younger than I expected, probably around my age, with a no-nonsense ponytail and glasses that make her look both serious and approachable.
Her smile is different from the receptionist’s. It’s softer, more understanding, like she knows exactly why I’m here and how scared I am.
“You’re not a bother at all,” she reassures me, her voice calm and steady. “I don’t have anyone else right now, so we can take all the time you need.” She gestures for me to follow her down a hallway and leads me into a private room.
As soon as the door clicks shut, the air feels thicker, the space tighter, and I can feel my heart race. My relief at not having to wait is instantly swallowed by another wave of panic. I’m here. I’m really doing this.
I sit on the edge of the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath me, my hands twisting in my lap. My whole life I’ve played a role, but this is one script I didn’t prepare for.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here…”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. Saying it aloud makes it feel bigger. Maybe if I say it enough times, it will start to feel real. “My period is weeks late. I’ve been nauseous and tired and moody and all the tests…” My voice cracks, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to keep going. “They were all positive. Every single one.”
I’m talking a mile a minute, barely pausing for air, each word tumbling out more frantic than the last. “I just...I need to be sure. I can’t—I mean, I’m not—I wasn’t planning for this. I didn’t even think it was possible. We were careful...mostly.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I push through it. “Do you have an ultrasound machine? Please tell me you have an ultrasound machine.”
The doctor listens quietly, letting me unload without interrupting. Her calmness is almost unnerving. I’m used to people jumping in, cutting me off, but she just nods, her gaze steady and reassuring. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to just listen.
“We do have an ultrasound machine,” she finally says, and I’m surprised at the relief that washes over me. “It’s not the most advanced, but it should be enough to give us some answers.”
I exhale in relief, surprised at how much that simple confirmation settles some of the panic twisting inside me. It’s not a miracle machine, but it’s something. And right now, I’ll take anything that feels like a lifeline.
The doctor leaves the room and returns with the ancient-looking machine. She begins preparing it for use, and I watch her with a mix of hope and dread. I can’t believe I’m here, in this tiny office in the middle of nowhere, about to find out if my entire life is about to change. I’ve never wanted anything more and less at the same time.
She turns on the machine, the hum filling the room, and I lie back on the table, staring at the ceiling.
“This might feel cold,” she says, her voice calm, as she squirts a greenish-looking gel onto my abdomen. Then she’s pressing the wand to my belly. “Just relax. This will only take a minute.”
A minute feels like an eternity. The room is silent except for the soft whirr of the ultrasound machine. And then—the whirr changes. A new sound crackles through the machine, faint at first, almost distorted, like a radio struggling to find a signal.
The doctor adjusts the wand, tilting her head slightly as she focuses on the screen. And then, clear as day, I hear it.
A rapid, fluttering thump-thump-thump.
I suck in a breath, my entire body going still. The sound fills the room, impossibly fast, impossibly real. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, but it’s not mine I’m hearing. It’s theirs.
“There it is,” the doctor says softly, her gaze shifting to meet mine. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
My throat closes. My vision blurs. I can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything but listen as my entire world shifts beneath me.
It’s real. It’s happening.
I’m staring at the screen in shock, my mind struggling to catch up with what my eyes are seeing. This changes everything. This changes me.
I press a trembling hand to my belly, swallowing against the knot forming in my throat. “That’s…that’s really it?”
The doctor nods, a small, knowing smile on her lips. “That’s really it.”
A tear slips free, rolling hot down my temple. I don’t know if I’m crying from relief, fear, or something else entirely. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it.
I'm pregnant.