Chapter 14 Pickles and Ice Cream
Pickles and Ice Cream
Once again, Luke and I have managed to get the same day off. It should be unheard of, and yet it keeps happening by some miracle of scheduling.
Luke picks me up at my house, as usual, and pulls me into his arms, as usual, and kisses me deeply as usual. I melt into him, letting myself have this moment before everything potentially changes.
But the first words he says to me are not usual.
His turquoise eyes are deep and serious as he pulls back to look at me, his hands still framing my face. “Two weeks, Madison. Is it time to take a test?”
My stomach drops. I've been trying not to think about it, trying to pretend that being three days late doesn't mean anything. But hearing him say it out loud makes it real.
Mouth suddenly dry, I nod. “I think so.”
At my request, we stop at a pharmacy in his town instead of Tower. If I'd been noticed buying a pregnancy test at the pharmacy back home, gossip would run rampant before I even made it to the parking lot.
My heart is running a million miles per hour as we walk through the automatic doors. The fluorescent lights feel too bright, the air conditioning too cold. But Luke's hand is warm and strong in mine.
The pregnancy test section is intimidating. So many boxes, so many brands, all promising accurate results. I stand there frozen, staring at them.
Luke doesn't hesitate. He starts grabbing boxes, reading the backs with the same focus he probably uses to review ranch financial reports.
“This one says results in two minutes. This one has a digital readout so there's no guessing about lines.” He looks at me. “Which one do you want?”
“I don't know,” I say, overwhelmed.
“Then we'll get them all.”
He's not joking. He grabs three different brands, then adds little plastic cups like the ones at the doctor's office, and a large bottle of blue Gatorade.
“Luke, sweetie, I don’t think three different ones is necessary.”
“I want to be sure.” His jaw is set with determination. “One way or the other, we're gonna know for certain.”
At the register, the cashier, a grizzled woman who looks like she's seen everything twice, raises an eyebrow as she scans the items. The beep of each pregnancy test feels deafening.
Luke just grins at her, then winks at me, completely unbothered.
“Big day,” he says cheerfully.
The old woman shakes her head, but I catch the corners of her mouth twitching up.
“Good luck, kids,” she mutters as she hands over the bag.
In the truck, I clutch the plastic bag on my lap, the weight of it somehow both insignificant and enormous. Luke drives with one hand, the other resting on my thigh, his thumb tracing those familiar circles.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Ask me in ten minutes.”
His hand squeezes my leg. “Whatever those tests say, we're okay. We’re good. We’re together no matter what.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
When we get to his place, I take a deep, shuddering breath. This is where everything changes. This is the before.
I take the bag from him. “So, um. I guess I'm just gonna go pee on some sticks.”
“Want company?” He smiles teasingly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
“No thank you,” I say firmly, grateful for the attempt at humor. “I get performance anxiety.”
He kisses my forehead, lingering there for a moment. I can feel the tension in him too, despite his easy demeanor. “Hurry back.”
In the bathroom, I set the bag on the counter and stare at it.
Just the most important pee of my life. No big deal.
I twist open the Gatorade and force myself to drink, even though my stomach is in knots. Then I take a deep breath and get to work.
My hands are shaking so badly by the time I take the tests out of their packages that I nearly drop one.
Finally, I manage to dip all three tests into the little cup I used.
I lay them carefully on the counter, side by side like little soldiers, then throw away the trash and wash my hands. The water runs cold, then warm, and I watch it swirl down the drain, wondering how everything can feel so surreal and so viscerally real at the same time.
The instructions said to wait three minutes, but I can already see something happening on the first test. My heart climbs into my throat.
A tap at the door makes me jump.
“Darlin’?” Luke's voice is tentative. “Can I come in?”
“Come in.”
The door opens and he's there, solid and real. He takes one look at my face and crosses to me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His chin rests on my shoulder as we both stare at the tests lined up on the counter.
I can feel his heart beating against my back, as fast as my own.
On the first test, one pink line appears in the little window.
We both hold our breath.
Then two.
“Oh,” I breathe.
On the second test, the same thing happens. One line. Then two. Clear as day.
Luke's arms tighten around me.
And on the third test, the little electronic screen flickers to life.
The word appears in blocky digital letters.
Pregnant.
For a moment, neither of us moves. Neither of us breathes.
Then reality crashes over me like a wave, and I burst into tears.
“Madison?” The alarm in his voice is obvious.
But I can't form words. Can’t explain that I'm crying because everything just changed. Because there's a baby. Because Luke is going to be a father and I'm going to be a mother and holy shit, how is this real?
“Baby,” he says, taking my face in his hands. His thumbs brush away tears that won't stop falling. “Talk to me. What are you feeling?”
I look up at him through blurry vision, and the expression on his face, awed and tender and maybe a little terrified himself, makes me cry harder.
“I’m pregnant,” I manage to choke out.
Gently, he asks, “Are these happy tears or scared tears?”
“Both!” I wail.
And then I kiss him, because somehow I know that will make me feel better.
And it does.
My heartbeat slows. The shaking calms down.
When our lips part, he exhales, pulling me close. “Please talk to me. I’m getting kind of freaked out by you freaking out.”
“Okay,” I breathe. “Okay. I guess this is a preview of the hormonal rollercoaster I'm about to be on, because, wow.”
I take another deep breath. “Luke, I'm going to be a mom. And I have no idea how to be a mom. I never even knew mine. I'm twenty-three and I work at a damn biker bar, and I have no clue how I'm gonna do this.”
The words tumble out faster now, panic rising in my chest. “What if I mess everything up? What if I don't know what to do when the baby cries, or I can't figure out how to—”
“Madison.” He cups my face in both hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Breathe with me.”
I try to match his slow, steady breathing, but my chest feels too tight.
“We're gonna do this,” he says tenderly, “Because we are having a baby. I know you're the one about to do all the hard work for the next nine months, but I'm gonna do everything in my power to make it easier on you. I'll do anything for you.” He rests his hand on my stomach. “For both of you.”
How did I get so damn lucky?
I let out a shaky laugh that's half sob. “You say that now, but what if I have those weird cravings for pickles and ice cream at two o'clock in the morning?”
He kisses away the tear tumbling down my cheek, his lips impossibly soft. “Then I'm doing pick-up and delivery.”
“What if I turn into a grumpy, mean hormone monster?” My voice wavers.
Another kiss, on the other cheek. “Good thing you're adorable when you get grumpy and mean.”
“Luke, I'm serious.” I grip his shirt. “What if I can't do this? What if I'm terrible at it?”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, one hand still on my stomach, the other coming up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “You know what I think?”
I shake my head, not trusting my voice.
“I think you're already worrying about doing right by this baby, which means you're gonna be a great mom.” His smile is warm, certain.
“And yeah, neither of us knows what the hell we're doing.
But we'll figure it out together. Late night feedings? We'll take shifts. Dirty diapers? I grew up on a ranch, darlin’, I can handle anything. Doctor's appointments, baby classes, all of it. I’m gonna be right there.”
“Promise?” It comes out small, vulnerable in a way I usually hate.
“I promise. You're not doing this alone. You're never gonna be alone again.”
I nod, my hands unclenching from his shirt to slide up around his neck. “Okay.”
“Okay for real?” He searches my face.
“For real.” I manage a watery smile. "But I'm definitely going to take you up on the two a.m. pickles thing. Just so you know."
His laugh rumbles through his chest, and he pulls me closer, both arms wrapping around me now. “Wouldn't expect anything less.”
I bury my face in his neck, breathing in that scent of him that's already becoming home.
“This is real,” I murmur against his skin, as if saying it aloud will help me process it. “There's actually a baby in me.”
“There's actually a baby in you.” I can hear the wonder in his voice, feel his hand press just a little more firmly against my stomach, like he's trying to connect with the tiny life we've created. “Our baby.”
I pull back to look at him, and the expression on his face, the awe and joy and maybe a little terror mixed together, makes my heart squeeze. “Now, are you finally scared?”
“Terrified,” he admits with a crooked smile. “But in a good way. The best way.” His thumb brushes my cheekbone. “Are you?”
“So scared.” My voice cracks. “But also... excited? Is that crazy?”
“Not crazy at all.” He kisses me, soft and lingering. “We're having a baby. We get to be scared and excited and completely out of our minds all at the same time.”
“When do we tell people? Your family is going to—oh God, your family.” My eyes widen. “Your parents are going to have opinions about us not being married and—”
He tilts my chin up. “One thing at a time. Right now, it's just us. We'll figure out the rest as we go.”
“Just us,” I repeat, letting the words settle over me like a blanket.
“Just us and our little one.” His hand splays wider over my stomach, and I try to imagine what it’s going to look like—what it’s going to feel like—when the little poppyseed-sized human inside me is the size of a watermelon instead.
“I can't believe this is happening.”
“Better believe it. Because in about eight months, you're gonna be holding our baby. And I'm gonna be right there with you.”
I loop my arms around his neck and hold on tight, and he holds me back just as fiercely, one hand still protective over where our baby is growing.
And for the first time in my life, I realize happily-ever-after is more than just a fairytale.