Chapter 47
Heather
It’s a Sunday morning, and Grant is at his usual station, flipping pancakes at the stove while April chatters away.
Even though he protested, I eventually convinced him to go to the hospital after the incident with Steven.
The doctors cleaned and properly stitched the bullet graze on his shoulder, and now he’s wearing a proper bandage.
He’s been moving a little stiffly when he reaches for things, but he insists he’s fine.
Stubborn man.
“And then Cory said his dog can do backflips, but I don’t believe him,” April says, taking a huge bite of her pancake. “Dogs can’t do backflips. Can they, Grant?”
“Some can,” Grant says, sliding another pancake onto her plate. “I’ve seen videos of dogs doing all kinds of tricks.”
“But backflips?”
“Maybe. Depends on the breed, I guess.”
April considers this seriously. “I think Cory is lying. He lies about everything. Last week he said his dad met the president.”
“Well, that’s possible too,” I say, sipping my orange juice. “Some people do meet the president.”
“But Cory’s dad works at the grocery store. When would he meet the president?”
Grant catches my eye across the table, and I can see him fighting back a smile.
“You know what?” he says, sitting down with his own plate.
“It doesn’t matter if Cory is telling the truth or not.
You can only control your own actions, and that means you should always try to tell the truth.
It also means you should have fun at recess, even if one of your buddies is telling wild stories on the playground. ”
“Oh, I did have fun! Sophie and I played on the swings the whole time.”
“Sounds like you already have things under control, then.”
I watch them together, the way Grant leans in when April talks, giving her his complete attention. The way he asks follow-up questions and treats her opinions like they matter. The way April lights up whenever he’s around, seeking his approval and basking in his praise.
This is what a father should be. Not like Steven, who only ever saw April as a nuisance or a bargaining chip, but like this—present, engaged, and gentle.
April reaches for the syrup, and Grant automatically moves it closer to her before she even has to stretch.
She doesn’t seem to notice, just pours it over her pancakes and keeps talking.
But I notice everything. The way he cut her pancakes into smaller pieces without being asked.
The way he made sure she had the chocolate chips she loves.
The way he sits at an angle so he can see both of us at once, like he’s keeping watch over his family.
His family.
The thought hits me so suddenly that it almost takes my breath away.
It honestly does feel like we’re a family now. Not just April and me anymore, but the three of us. This kitchen, this table, these Sunday morning pancakes. Grant’s quiet presence and steady hands. April’s endless chatter and bright smile. Me, finally feeling safe and settled and home.
This is what I want forever.
My stomach twists suddenly with a flutter of nerves or the recurring nausea I’ve been having, and I press my hand against my abdomen, willing it to settle.
It’s been doing this for weeks now. At first, I thought it was stress from the custody battle. Then I thought it was fear from Steven’s threats. But the court case is over. Steven is in jail and the three of us are safe.
And my stomach is still upset every morning.
“Mom? Are you okay?” April’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“I’m fine, sweetheart.” I force a smile. “Just need to use the bathroom. You two keep eating.”
I push back from the table and head upstairs, my heart pounding harder with each step.
The pregnancy test is hidden in the back of the bathroom cabinet, tucked behind bottles of pain reliever and allergy medicine. I bought it three days ago after Steven’s arrest, after the relief finally hit and the nausea didn’t go away.
I couldn’t be pregnant. I’ve been on the pill. Besides that, Grant and I have been careful. Mostly. Except for that morning before the court hearing when we were both too desperate and needy to think about anything except each other. And a few other times when we got carried away.
My hands shake as I open the box and read the instructions. It’s simple enough—pee on the stick, wait three minutes, and two lines mean pregnant. One line means not pregnant.
I take the test and set it on the counter, then immediately turn away. I can’t watch it develop. I can’t sit here and stare at it for three minutes while my entire future hangs in the balance.
Instead, I pace the small bathroom. Back and forth, back and forth. My mind races with possibilities.
Grant and I haven’t talked about more kids. We haven’t even really talked about what we are beyond dating. I have no idea whether he’ll want this or feel trapped or overwhelmed.
April has been an only child her whole life. I don’t think she’ll be jealous or upset about the prospect of having a sibling, but I just don’t know for sure.
And me. I honestly don’t know if I’m ready for another baby. I barely survived April’s first few years on my own. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens between Grant and me.
The timer on my phone goes off. It’s been three minutes. Now it’s the moment of truth.
I turn toward the counter with my heart in my throat. The test is sitting there, completely unremarkable and possibly life-changing at the same time.
I pick it up with shaking hands.
The two lines are clear and unmistakable.
I’m pregnant.
My breath catches, and my knees go weak. I sit down hard on the closed toilet lid, still staring at the test.
I’m pregnant. I’m going to have Grant’s baby.
A thousand emotions crash through me at once—fear, joy, panic, wonder, excitement, and terror are just the first few I can name. But underneath it all, beneath the shock and uncertainty, there’s something else.
Hope.
I press my hand against my still-flat stomach and let myself imagine it. A baby. Grant’s baby. A little brother or sister for April. A family, a real family.
I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. I need to tell Grant soon, but not right now. Not while April is downstairs and I’m still processing this myself.
I tuck the test back into the box and hide it in the cabinet again. Then I wash my hands, splash cold water on my face, and check my reflection in the mirror.
I still look the same, of course, but everything is different.
I head back downstairs and school my expression into something calm and normal.
Grant looks up as I enter the kitchen. “Is everything good? You look a little pale.”
“Yeah.” My voice sounds surprisingly even, despite the way my pulse is racing. “I’m good.”
April has finished her pancakes and is now drawing on a napkin with a purple marker. Grant is watching her with that soft expression he gets when she’s absorbed in something creative.
I sit back down at the table, my hands folded in my lap to hide their trembling.
Before Grant can ask another question, the doorbell rings.
“That’s Sophie’s mom!” April jumps up from her chair and grabs her backpack from where it’s been sitting by the door since yesterday. “We’re doing a project together for school today, remember?”
“I remember.” I stand and follow her to the door, grateful for the distraction.
Sophie’s mom waves from the driveway, and I wave back. April gives me a quick hug, then runs out to the car.
“Have fun, sweetheart!” I call after her.
“Love you, Mom! Bye, Grant!”
“See you later,” Grant calls from the kitchen.
My heart swells with pride as I watch the car pull away. April has come so far over the past few weeks. She’s making friends, adjusting to her new school, and thriving in ways I never could have imagined back when we first moved here.
I close the door and lean against it for a moment, trying to gather my courage.
It’s just Grant and me now. No more distractions or excuses. I have to tell him.
My nerves return with a vengeance, making my stomach flip and my hands shake. When I walk back into the kitchen, Grant is already clearing the breakfast dishes.
“Grant?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
He turns and his brow furrows as he immediately picks up on my tone. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I don’t think so, anyway. I just… I need to show you something.”
“Okay.” He draws the word out as he sets down the plate he’s holding, then gives me his full attention. “What is it?”
“Upstairs. Can you come upstairs with me?”
I can tell from his expression that his concern is deepening by the second, but he nods and follows me without any other questions.
We walk up the stairs together, and every step feels impossibly heavy. My heart is in my throat, and when we reach the bathroom, all I can do is silently push the door open and motion for him to come inside.
“Heather, what’s going on?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I open the bathroom cabinet and pull out the box with the pregnancy test inside, then hand it to him.
He takes it and stares at the two distinct lines for an excruciatingly long moment. Then his eyes snap up to mine.
“Is this… are you…?”
“I’m pregnant.” The words tumble out in a rush.
“I took the test this morning while you and April were eating breakfast. I’ve been feeling sick for weeks, and I thought it was just stress from everything with Steven.
But it didn’t go away, and I realized it might be something else, so I bought a test, and I just took it, and it’s positive. ”
He’s completely still, and his expression has gone from concerned to completely unreadable.
My nerves spike into full panic. “I know we didn’t plan this. I know we’ve only been together for a few months, and we haven’t even talked about the future or what we are or if you even want more kids. I’m so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted, but I swear it was a total surprise to me too.”
“Heather.” His voice cuts through my rambling. “Stop.”