Chapter 12 #2
“My stomach has been unsettled for weeks.” Abby rinsed her mouth and reached for a towel. “It’s probably stress.”
“Stress doesn’t usually make you throw up this much.” Sadie remained in the doorway, watching her carefully. “Your body has been trying to tell you something.”
Abby looked at her sister through the mirror. Sadie’s hair was still wrapped in a scarf, but her eyes had become completely alert.
“It hasn’t been every morning,” Abby said. “Only three.”
“Four.” Sadie leaned against the doorframe. “You were sick before work on Monday, and you said the coffee smelled wrong on Tuesday.”
“You’re counting?” Abby folded the towel between her hands. “I didn’t realize it had happened that often.”
“You’re living in my house.” Sadie folded her arms. “I notice when someone runs past me with a hand over her mouth.”
Abby pressed the towel against her lips. The possibility entered slowly, meeting immediate resistance from every explanation she had chosen over the previous month.
Her period had been light, barely more than spotting for two days. She blamed the disruption on stress and stopped tracking the dates because it was just one more thing she had to remember.
“No,” she said as she lowered the towel. “Hudson and I haven’t—” She stopped when the timeline began forming despite her resistance.
She stopped when the timeline formed. They had slept together the week before Makayla’s supposed trip to Boston, after Hudson came home unusually attentive and apologized for working through another weekend.
Sadie watched the realization change her face. “When was your last real period?”
“I don’t know.” Abby gripped the sink and counted backward. “Maybe the end of January.”
“Abby, it’s April.” Sadie stepped farther into the bathroom. “You need to think about the last period you’re certain about.”
“I had one in February.” The defense weakened as she spoke. “I think I did.”
“Thinking isn’t the same as knowing.” Sadie’s voice remained gentle. “Especially when you were already under that much stress.”
Abby turned on the tap although she had already rinsed her mouth. Water struck the porcelain with more force than necessary.
“I can’t be pregnant,” she said as she stared at the stream. “I just left him.”
“Those facts don’t cancel each other.” Sadie waited until Abby looked at her. “Leaving him cannot change what may have happened before.”
“They should.” Abby shut off the water and faced her sister. “I ended the wedding. I moved out. I spent three weeks trying to remove him from every part of my life.”
Sadie crossed the bathroom and took both of Abby’s hands. “We don’t know anything yet.”
“I’ve been nauseated since before I found out.” Abby remembered declining wine at dinner while Hudson complained about wasting an expensive bottle on people who could not appreciate it. “I thought my stomach was upset because of the wedding nerves.”
“Then we get a test.” Sadie pushed away from the doorframe. “We don’t make any decisions before we know.”
“I have work.” Abby reached automatically for the clothes she had left on the counter. “I’m supposed to present to my department at ten.”
“You’re shaking.” Sadie tightened her grip. “Call in sick. I’ll go to the pharmacy.”
Abby wanted to refuse because taking the test would give the possibility a result. Remaining uncertain offered a few more minutes in which her future did not require Hudson’s involvement.
“Buy more than one,” she said. “I don’t want to wonder if it was wrong.”
Sadie returned twenty minutes later with four tests from three different brands. She placed the paper bag on the bathroom counter and waited while Abby read every set of instructions twice.
“Do you want me to stay?” Sadie asked as Abby opened the first box. “I can wait outside if you want privacy.”
“Stay.” Abby looked at the collection of plastic sticks and foil packets. “I don’t want to do this alone.”
They completed the tests in strained silence, then placed them in a row along the edge of the bathtub. Sadie set a timer for three minutes and lowered herself onto the closed toilet seat.
Abby stood beside the sink because sitting felt impossible. She watched the seconds disappear from Sadie’s phone while her mind moved through consequences faster than she could examine them.
Hudson would believe a baby proved they belonged together. His parents would have expectations. Lawyers would discuss custody, surnames, schedules, and holidays before the child had formed fingers.
Beneath the fear, another feeling waited. It was quieter and more painful to acknowledge, a protective tenderness toward a baby who may have existed through every terrible night without Abby knowing.
The timer sounded. Sadie silenced it but did not reach for the tests.
“Do you want me to look?” she asked.
Abby shook her head and crossed the bathroom. The first test displayed two blue lines, the second showed a digital Pregnant, and the remaining two confirmed the same result in different shapes.
She stared until Sadie rose beside her. “All four are positive.”
“I see them.” Abby’s voice sounded detached. “Maybe the hormones remain after something goes wrong.”
“That can happen, but you need a doctor to tell you what is happening now.” Sadie reached for her phone. “I’ll start calling as soon as the offices open.”
Abby pressed one hand against her abdomen. Her body felt unchanged beneath the soft cotton of her sleep shirt, though she suddenly became aware of every sensation inside it.
“I wanted children,” she said as tears blurred the tests. “Hudson knew I wanted them.”
“Do you want this baby?” Sadie asked without moving closer. “You don’t have to answer because of what you wanted before.”
Abby looked at her sister. The question separated the pregnancy from Hudson long enough for her to find an answer that belonged to her.
“Yes.” She covered her mouth as the word released the first sob. “I’m terrified, but yes.”
Sadie pulled her into an embrace. Abby held on with one arm while the other remained curved across her stomach.
“Then we start there,” Sadie said against her hair. “You want the baby. Everything else can be handled one decision at a time.”
The obstetrician’s office found an appointment the following afternoon after Sadie explained the uncertain dates. Abby spent the intervening hours reading contradictory information online until Sadie took her phone away and replaced it with a bowl of dry cereal.
They sat together in the examination room while a nurse reviewed Abby’s medical history. Each question about her partner required an answer Abby had not practiced.
“The father is my former fiancé,” she said when the nurse asked whether Hudson would be involved. “We separated three weeks ago.”
The nurse recorded the information without changing her expression. “Do you feel safe informing him about the pregnancy?”
Abby hesitated. Hudson had never struck her, but he had blocked the apartment door, reached for her after being told to stop, and treated her decisions as temporary symptoms he was entitled to correct.
“I don’t think he’ll hurt me physically,” she said. “But I don’t want to tell him alone.”
The nurse added another note. “We can connect you with someone who will explain your options for communication and documentation.”
The offer loosened some of the tension in Abby’s shoulders. She accepted it before the doctor entered.
An ultrasound confirmed the pregnancy. The doctor measured the tiny shape on the screen and estimated that Abby was ten weeks and two days along.
“Everything appears appropriate for the gestational age,” she said as she adjusted the image. “The heartbeat is strong.”
The room filled with a rapid pulsing sound. Abby gripped Sadie’s hand and stared at the screen while the meaning moved through her.
There was a baby. The affair, the canceled wedding, and Hudson’s anger existed beyond the dim room, but the heartbeat belonged to none of them.
Sadie began crying beside her. Abby laughed once through her own tears, startled by the fierce relief that accompanied the sound.
The doctor printed several images and explained the next steps. Abby listened carefully, asking questions about medication, nutrition, testing, and the nausea that had become difficult to manage.
When they returned to the parking lot, she held the ultrasound photographs inside both hands to protect them from the wind. Sadie unlocked the car but waited before opening the doors.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Happy.” Abby looked down at the smallest image, where the baby appeared in shades of gray and white. “I didn’t expect to feel happy today.”
“You’re allowed.” Sadie touched the envelope between Abby’s hands. “Being happy about the baby does not forgive anything Hudson did.”
“I’m also angry.” Abby closed the envelope around the photographs. “Hudson took so much from the way I imagined this happening.”
“He doesn’t get to take the baby too.” Sadie unlocked the passenger door and waited. “This can still belong to you.”
Abby nodded, though Hudson would soon claim his share of every decision. She had a lawyer to call, appointments to schedule, and a conversation she dreaded enough to feel it waiting in her body.
Her phone remained in her purse. Evan had sent a message that morning asking whether she felt better, and Hudson had left another voicemail promising to come by Sadie’s house if she continued ignoring him and offering to bring saltines and ginger ale for her stomach.
Abby rested one hand over the envelope. Before she could decide what to tell Evan, she had to tell the man whose child she was carrying.