Chapter 21 Gwen
GWEN
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Honey ran to the door, barking and howling. Her tail wagged, making her whole body wiggle. She knew whoever waited on the other side.
I still looked at the set of butcher knives on the counter.
I fumbled with the burner phone to shut it down and shove it in my hoodie pocket.
On the tips of my toes, careful to remain quiet if it was someone I didn’t want to talk to— or someone dangerous, no matter how paranoid that may have sounded—I made it to the window on the left of the door.
Delilah stood behind it.
My shoulders loosened, deep breath parting my lips. I unlatched the deadbolt and swung it open. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, smiling, her nose bright pink from the cold wind.
At least an inch of snow piled on top the hood of her coat.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry for just showing up.
I was walking around, and I wound up on this trail, I remembered you saying that you lived here, and—I don’t know. Your lights were on.”
My heart swelled. She needed someone to talk to.
Stepping aside, I held the door open for her. “Come on in.”
“Are you sure?” She glanced me over, likely noting my silly pink pajamas covered in doughnuts. “If you were getting ready for bed, I don’t want to—”
“Please. Insomnia keeps me up half the night anyway.” I gestured toward the couch. “Seriously. Have a seat.”
Eyes softened, she thanked me, shook the snow off her jacket onto the porch, and did just that.
“Do you want a drink?” Out of instinct, I reached for the whiskey on the table. Then I looked at Delilah again. Her round, supple cheeks, her small stature. “Wait, how old are you? I don’t know if I’ve asked.”
“Eighteen.” She tugged off her coat, a teasing smile curving the edges of her lips. “But I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Of all the things, that won’t be what I go to prison for.” A similar smile in response. “How about tea? Or hot chocolate?”
“Oh, you don’t have to go to all that trouble for me.”
“It’s no trouble. I could go for some hot chocolate.” I grabbed some heavy cream from the fridge and started for the stovetop. “It mixes well with whiskey. In a couple years, I’ll make you some.”
While the cocoa and cream melted together in the pot, Delilah let out a halfhearted, almost ironic chuckle. “I probably shouldn’t drink it anyway. I’m not sure how it works. Is it dangerous to drink while you’re pregnant because of the baby? Or does it hurt you?”
I stopped stirring, replaying that over in my mind. Delilah didn’t clarify, she didn’t say more, so I had to assume that I had heard correctly.
It wasn’t uncommon around here. As a woman without children, I was the minority at Rhiannon’s Ranch.
Slowly, I spun to face her. “You’re pregnant?”
With tears in her eyes, she pressed her lips together and gave a nod. “But I won’t be for long.”
Frown tugging at the edge of my lips, I debated how to respond. That explained why she asked the way she had. Certainly had me considering corrupting the minor.
“Rhiannon took me to my appointment in Black Pines.” Delilah stayed only an octave above a whisper.
“She told me before that if I didn’t want this, we could find a way to make that work, but I did.
I wanted to keep it. But today at my ultrasound, they said something wasn’t right.
The baby, it’s on my tube? Or something like that.
And when it gets bigger, it’s gonna kill me. I still don’t understand it all, but…”
“It’s ectopic.” I left the ingredients to simmer and returned to the sofa beside Delilah. “I’m so sorry. How are you doing?”
She tried to smile, but the tears started falling.
It took a few hard swallows and tissue dabs before she continued.
“I don’t know. I wanted her. I really did.
She’s the reason I left. But I don’t understand why they can’t just move her.
I get that she is on my tube, and when she gets bigger, the tube will burst and I’ll bleed out.
But if there’s nothing wrong with her, and it’s just where she’s at, I don’t understand. ”
“Science hasn’t gotten that far yet.” I reached out for her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Delilah squeezed my fingers. “Maybe it’s for the best. I’m sad, but I’m relieved too. But when I think that, I feel horrible. I was excited, and I was happy, and—” A sharp breath. “I don’t know if that makes any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” I grabbed another tissue off the coffee table and held it out to her.
She accepted and wiped her eyes. “I can’t say that it was for the best, or that it was meant to be, because no one can know.
That’s not how life works. Sometimes, things just go wrong.
And it sucks, and it’s hard, but if it helps, when I was in a position like yours, it was for the best. My life would be a lot different if that baby had made it.
I can’t say I’m happy it didn’t, but things did work out for me. ”
Cocking her head to the side, Delilah’s eyes softened. Like the two of us were standing together against the same common threat. “You had an ectopic pregnancy?”
“No. They call it a chemical pregnancy. A couple positive tests, but then I started bleeding before they could do an ultrasound or bloodwork. It was very early, so I didn’t really form a bond with it or anything. Still hurt though. Sometimes it still does.”
Teary-eyed, Delilah pressed her lips together. Probably to stave off a sob. After a moment, she said, “But, in a way, are you happy about it?”
Chewing my cheek, a deep breath lifted my chest. “I wouldn’t say happy, no.
At the same time, I made sure to always use protection with my ex after that.
When I got the positive test, I was happy.
I was depressed when they told me that it was gone.
But I kind of thought about it in a weird, spiritual sense?
Which is strange, because I’m not religious. ”
“I am,” she said quietly. “Born and raised Irish Catholic.”
That surely made all of this a lot harder for her. “I thought maybe my body saw something in my husband that I didn’t. Like it rejected his DNA because it knew we weren’t right together. Maybe God knew your ex wasn’t right for you either. Maybe this was his way of setting you free from him.”
I didn’t believe that. Biology was strange.
Things went awry. Statistically, one in four confirmed pregnancies ended in miscarriage.
But when I’d gone through it, I found comfort in thinking there was something ethereal about it all.
A sense of destiny, that it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
A deeper meaning that gave some kind of merit to my pain.
Maybe this logic would help Delilah too.
“That’s what I keep saying to myself,” Delilah whispered. “It does make me feel better for a minute. But then I feel so guilty because I think about Evan, and I think about how much this would hurt him.” She swatted a few more tears away. “He wasn’t all bad. He really wasn’t.”
At the sound of quiet boils on the stove, I stood and headed that way. “Of course he wasn’t. If he was all bad, you wouldn’t have been with him.”
“Is that okay to say around here?”
I spun the spoon through the sizzling cocoa. “You can say whatever you want around here.”
“Yeah, I know. In theory.” Delilah wiped up the rest of her tears. “But in group, it’s all about everything we hate about them. That’s what’s so hard. So much of me is Evan. I became who I am with him. It’s weird trying to come to grips with a version of me that isn’t so tightly wound around him.”
This wasn’t about Evan. It was about Delilah. Her sense of self, and the lack thereof. She didn’t want to talk about what he’d done to her. She wanted to converse about how impossible it was to unthread herself from him.
“Do you want to talk about him?” A spoonful of cocoa landed onto my tongue. The texture was creamy, almost as thick as ganache, but the bitter taste had me grimacing. I added some more sugar. “We can. I don’t mind.”
“Kind of? If that’s okay?” Soft, almost confused at first. It didn’t match the strength in her tone when she said, “But only under one condition.”
“And what’s that?”
“You don’t accuse me of wanting him back.” Those blue eyes were wide, unblinking. “Because I don’t. I really don’t.”
“I believe you. You just want to talk it through. Get your head on straight.” I grabbed a few mugs from the cabinet above the sink. “How did you two meet?”
My phone rang in my pocket.
I rushed to silence it, but Delilah stopped me before I could. “It’s okay. You can take that.”
I frowned. “This matters more right now.”
“It’ll matter just as much after you talk to whoever that is.” Sniffling still, dabbing her cheeks, she chuckled. “I’m fine. Seriously, answer it.”
Judging by her heavy exhales, the forced laugh, and all the wiping of her eyes, she wasn’t saying that for my benefit. She wanted a moment to find her composure.
That was the only reason I lifted the phone from my pocket and noted the incoming call. Sebastian.
“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier,” I answered in a hurry. “And I’m sorry for what I’m about to say now.”
He laughed. “Well, hello to you, too.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” It was hard to ignore the warmth that rose in my chest. “Delilah stopped by. Can I call you back before I go to sleep?”
“Actually, I have an early surgery in the morning, so I’m heading to bed now,” he said. “But it’s alright. See you for lunch tomorrow?”
So smooth. Everything with him was so smooth, so easy. Simple, like Haley had said in group today. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Sleep tight.”
“You too, pretty girl,” he said. “And hey, don’t forget about those jeans.”
I only let out a half laugh, doing my damnedest to be sensitive to Delilah in her state. With my face toward the stove, she couldn’t see my blushing cheeks. “Hold up your end, and I’ll hold up mine.”
“Oh, I will.” He laughed, and I chuckled, and we got off the call.