Chapter 9
Nine
Fresh snow blankets the ground, muffling the world in a hush. The sky stretches silver and soft. I breathe deep, letting the brutal cold settle in my lungs, hoping it might dull the ache in my chest.
Bell bounds through the snow beside me, her joy untouched by the slow collapse of my world. Out here, I can breathe—escape Mason’s hovering, the tests buried under tissues in the trash, and the decisions already made for me.
I need a moment.
Just one moment to breathe.
Cry in solitude before I piece myself back together.
I sink into the snow, bury my face in my hands, and let it out.
There’s no one here to judge, no one to witness the wreckage.
I grieve for the girl always left behind, who never knew the meaning of family.
For the woman who wanted it so desperately, she married the wrong man to get it.
For this baby, I already want more than anything.
I know I could choose not to have it, but this is my chance to finally have what I’ve wanted all my life: a family of my own.
And mostly, I cry for what this all means—the hope I hardly dared to feel.
Footsteps crunch up the drive, shattering the fragile stillness. I don’t need to look up. I know his stride. When I finally lift my head, concern marks every line of James’s face. He takes in the sight of me kneeling in the snow, tears frozen on my cheeks.
Grasping for a shred of bravado, I force a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“What’s wrong?” He’s next to me in two quick strides.
“I’m fine. Just thinking.”
“Hey, I can be your friend. I’m a pretty good listener.”
“No. It’s nothing… I can’t talk about it with you.”
James exhales, tipping his head toward the sky. Beads of sweat trail down his cheek. His breath is still ragged from his run. “Did you talk to a doctor today, or did Jules give you some insight into what’s going on?”
Bracing against something colder than the night air, I hug my arms around myself. “Yeah, something like that. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?” James takes a step closer, his body blocking the wind, creating a pocket of stillness around us. His scent, cedar and something distinctly him, wraps around me in this cocoon.
My lips purse as I exhale, the fog of my breath mingling with his. “Because...I don’t think I can handle any more truths with you.”
He lets out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating through me.
Under the soft glow of the moon, I glimpse the ghost of another life.
One where we met at a different time, in a different place.
Where I wasn’t who I am now. But this isn't a fairytale with an easy ending. The tests in the bathroom trash have already written our tragedy. There’s no world where I can keep the Wallises and explore whatever this is with him.
I’d lose everything. So I do what I’ve always done. I perform.
“You’ve passed the test. I’ll tell Ivy you’re a keeper.”
My smile stays fixed, wide and polished. I ignore the bitter taste the words leave in my mouth and the twist in my gut when I see the disbelief on his face.
“That’s it? That’s what you think this is?” he scoffs.
I tilt my head back and let snowflakes kiss my skin. They fall and melt, disguising the tears threatening to spill. With gentle fingers, he brushes away a flake and cradles my chin, guiding my eyes to meet his.
“Can you honestly tell me you don’t feel this between us?”
We stare at each other, unmoving, the weight of his question orbiting like a comet through the dark.
“I’m not an option, James. Go to Ivy, or move on from her. But leave me out of it.”
His silence stretches, but I don’t dare fill the space.
“Sydney, what are you not telling me? What happened? I know this can’t all be in my head.”
My hand drifts to my stomach before I can stop it. I drop it quickly, but his eyes follow, narrowing. “Nothing that changes anything. I’m going inside to my husband. That’s the end of it.”
He doesn’t move.
“Bell, come.” I keep my steps steady as I climb the stairs, back straight. I can feel James watching, dissecting me. But I don’t look back.
As I reach the door, his voice cuts through the stillness.
“The way you look at me doesn’t match what you’re saying, Sydney.”
For a heartbeat, I freeze. His words strip away all my defenses, leave me bare, as my fingers tighten around the doorknob. But I don’t turn back. I step inside and close the door, sealing whatever this is behind it.
***
Breakfast is subdued, devoid of the usual soft hum of conversation. Everyone is lost in their own world. Some read newspapers, others check emails, or scroll on their phones. I keep my eyes on my plate, pretending not to feel the green eyes watching from across the table.
“Mom, Dad, Syd and I have one last Christmas gift for you.” Mason squeezes my hand and pulls a shiny, wrapped box from behind his back.
No. No. No.
He was supposed to wait. We agreed. I should’ve known he wouldn’t.
Did he dig the test out of the trash?
A sour burn creeps up my throat, but I clamp it down, eyes rooted to the wood grain. James watches, his gaze leaving a trail I can’t mistake. But I don’t dare look back.
Margaret takes her time unwrapping it, her fingers delicate with anticipation. When she finally sees what’s inside, her scream fills the room. Gary leans over, spots the test, and together they rush us, pulling us into a suffocating embrace.
At least my tears can be mistaken for happy ones.
“Mom, Dad, what is it? What’s in the box?” Ivy practically vibrates in her seat.
Before I can even breathe, Mason blurts it out. “We’re having a baby!”
The room erupts—laughter, cheers, voices overlapping. Margaret dabs her eyes, already planning nursery themes and baby showers. Gary claps Mason on the back, brimming with pride. Tom raises an imaginary glass.
“Oh my gosh, this is amazing!” Ivy gushes. “You’re going to be so gorgeous pregnant. It’s so unfair. You’ll have this perfect little bump while I’ll look like an Oompa Loompa.”
“Will the baby come out of Aunt Syd’s belly button?” Leo asks, lifting his shirt and poking his as if he’s conducting a scientific study.
Beck rolls his eyes with all the superiority of a worldly six-year-old. “No, dummy. The doctor uses scissors. That’s why moms have that line on their stomachs.”
“Boys!” Jules cuts in. “Clearly, I need to explain better what I actually do all day. But anatomy lessons later, okay?”
Tom winks over the twins’ heads. “It’s time to discuss the birds and the bees.”
I try to laugh, but the sound doesn’t land. The voices blur. The room grows too warm, too small. A cold sweat beads on my forehead as I stand frozen.
James stands outside the circle, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes downcast. When he finally looks up, I see it—surprise, hurt, something else I can’t (or won’t) name. He swallows, hides it all behind a tight smile and dulled eyes.
“Congrats to you both.” His voice is hollow, devoid of any emotion.
“Thanks, man. We’re thrilled. We found out yesterday.” Mason beams, pressing a kiss to my cheek. He’s oblivious to the way I go still, to how I slip further into silence.
I see it: the moment James pieces it all together. The nausea at the resort. The stop at the pharmacy. Our conversation in the snow. His Adam’s apple bobs and he looks away, focusing somewhere above everyone’s heads.
Jules squeezes my hand, pulling me away from Mason.
Her eyes hold mine, seeing the truth behind my smile, the tremor in my hand betraying what I’m holding in.
Two people see through my performance, and neither is my husband.
I look from her to James as I stand, frozen like a deer caught in sudden light.
“Excuse me. I need a minute.” And I flee.
“Poor Syd,” Jules calls after me. “Morning sickness is no joke!”
Laughter drifts from downstairs, muffled but inescapable.
I curl deeper into the corner of the sunroom, wrapping a blanket tightly around myself.
Here, I can breathe. Ari Lennox plays through the speakers, her voice filling the empty spaces inside me, weaving lyrics of love and longing, of brokenness and never-weres.
Maybe I’m a masochist, letting the words sink in, refusing to turn them off.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Jules says, stepping in with two mugs of tea. Her curls are piled into a messy bun, her ugly Christmas sweater doing its best to soften the tension.
We sit in silence, breathing with the music. Until she leans forward and says, “I was going to ask if you’re okay, but that feels like bullshit.”
I huff a soft laugh. “Yeah. It kind of is.” I pause before meeting her eyes. “Fuck, Jules.”
“I know, babe.” She pulls me into her arms and lets me cry.
Even though she’s smaller, she holds me like a wall, fierce and unwavering.
“Syd, when I asked you the other night if you were happy, it wasn’t a question. I see you. I see the distance between you and Mason. How much you’ve changed. And from experience?” She stops, gathering the words to say: “Babies don’t fix what’s broken in relationships.”
“How can I be a mother when I feel so lost?”
“Do you know who I see when I look at you?” She asks, brushing tears from my cheeks. “I see a woman who survived a shitty childhood. Who clawed her way out of a frozen house. Who wasn’t carved from stone like her parents. Who loves hard.”
Her words wreck me, my tears falling freely. I wish I could see that version of me, too.
Maybe Jules sees who I could be. Maybe she’s holding up a mirror to my potential, not my reality. The question is whether I’m brave enough to become that woman, or if I’ll keep hiding behind fear.
“Do you ever get lonely?” I whisper, because it feels wrong to say out loud.
“All the time,” she admits without hesitation. “Even with a good man. Even surrounded by love. Because no one can fill you up…but you. I had to learn that the hard way too, babe.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something just for myself.”
“Syd, the woman I saw ice skating, she was alive and free. When was the last time Mason made you feel the way you looked out there? When was the last time he even tried?”
I stare into my cold tea, unable to answer. We both already know the truth.
She disconnects my music from the speaker and throws on “Good as Hell” by Lizzo.
“Maybe it’s time you let yourself live.” She shimmies toward me. “But until you’re ready to claim what you want, we’re dancing this shit out.”
“I don’t think this is…”
But she’s already pulling me to my feet as the beat pulses through the room. My resistance lasts about three seconds before I let go, a little.
She twirls me until the room becomes streaks of color and light. We dance until sweat dampens our shirts, until a genuine smile spreads across my face. Until I almost believe in the strength Jules swears I have.
All that’s left is to bury the pieces of this week so deep that someday I can lie to myself and pretend he never mattered, that this beautiful week was never supposed to be anything more.
From the window, I watch Bell bounding toward the forest. She pauses at the tree line, ears perked, tail wagging, suspended in a moment of possibility. My heart seizes at the glimmer in her eyes.
What’s out there? What if she keeps going?
But she turns back, trotting toward the house with her tail wagging.