Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Julia called at eight the next morning. Abby had spent most of the night deciding what she would say, but the sound of Julia’s voice made every prepared sentence feel inadequate.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Julia began crying before Abby finished saying hello. “Hudson showed us the picture. Robert and I could hardly believe it.”
Abby sat on the edge of Sadie’s guest-room bed and placed one hand over her abdomen. “I asked him to wait until I could tell you.”
“He was overwhelmed.” Julia drew an unsteady breath. “He came to the house holding that little photograph, and he looked happier than I’ve seen him in weeks.”
Abby thought of Hudson smiling across the café table because he believed the pregnancy restored his claim on her. Julia had seen joy without knowing what he expected the baby to accomplish.
“I’m glad he’s happy about the baby,” Abby said. “I need you to understand that the engagement remains over.”
Silence replaced Julia’s tears. When she answered, her voice carried the careful patience Hudson used whenever Abby failed to reach the conclusion he preferred.
“He told us there had been a misunderstanding,” Julia said. “Something involving Makayla and Evan.”
“There was no misunderstanding.” Abby looked down at her bare ring finger. “Hudson had an affair.”
“Hudson admitted he behaved badly.” Julia lowered her voice as if Robert might hear from another room. “He said Makayla had become dependent on him while Evan was neglecting her, and the boundaries became confused, but nothing happened between them.”
Abby closed her eyes. Hudson had converted an eighteen-month affair into an act of compassion complicated by someone else’s neglect.
“I’m sorry, Julia, but that’s just not true. I was there, I saw him with Makayla. The wedding is canceled,” she said. “I moved out, and I am finding my own apartment.”
“You’re carrying his child.” Julia sounded genuinely bewildered. “Whatever happened, surely that deserves consideration.”
“The baby deserves parents who can speak to each other without lying. That does not require us to be married.”
“You say that now because you’re hurt.” Julia’s certainty was gentler than Hudson’s, though it left just as little room for Abby’s decision. “Pregnancy is emotional under the best circumstances. You should not close the door on your family before the shock has passed.”
Abby looked through the guest-room window at Sadie scraping frost from her windshield. She had once believed marrying Hudson would make Julia part of her family, and losing that relationship carried its own grief.
“I’m not closing the door on you and Robert,” she said. “I want the baby to know you. But, I need you to stop treating my separation from Hudson as temporary.”
Julia did not answer immediately. “That breaks my heart, honey.”
“Well, he broke mine.” Abby regretted the sharpness but did not withdraw the boundary.
The words sounded harsher than Abby intended. Julia began to cry again, quietly this time.
“I have loved you for nine years,” she said. “I helped you choose the venue. We planned holidays around the idea that you would always be here.”
“I loved those plans too.” Abby tightened her hand against her sleep shirt. “Hudson knew that when he risked them.”
“He says he loves you.” Julia’s voice softened around the statement. “I believe he means it.”
“I believe he wants me back.” Abby pressed her fingers against her forehead. “That does not tell me how he intends to treat me.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” Julia asked without accusation. “After so many years together?”
The question held no manipulation. Julia’s marriage to Robert had survived four decades, and Abby wondered how often love and endurance had become indistinguishable inside it. It was not something she herself was willing to find out.
“No,” Abby said. “I don’t think it is.”
Julia released a long breath. “May we see you?”
“After I’ve had some time.” Abby kept her voice gentle. “I will send you updates about the baby, but medical appointments will remain private unless I invite someone.”
“Hudson said you invited him.” Hope entered Julia’s voice. “He believes the appointment may be a beginning.”
“I did, but it’s not an invitation back into my life. That does not extend the invitation to anyone else.”
Another pause followed. “All right.”
Abby heard the hurt in the answer and resisted the impulse to repair it by surrendering part of her boundary. “I’ll call you after the next appointment.”
“Please do.” Julia’s voice softened. “Whatever happens between you and Hudson, you are still very dear to us.”
The call ended with both women saying they loved each other. Abby believed Julia meant it, but love had become more difficult to trust when it arrived beside expectations she could not accept.
Abby waited until late afternoon before answering Evan’s message from the previous day. He had asked whether she felt better, and she had left the question unread while telling Hudson and speaking to the attorney.
I’m feeling better, she wrote. Can we meet somewhere tonight? There’s something I need to tell you.
Evan responded within five minutes. Yes. You can choose the place.
Abby selected the public garden where they had walked the previous week. The visitor center remained open until seven, and benches lined the path between the greenhouse and the pond.
She arrived carrying the ultrasound envelope inside her purse. Unlike the meeting with Hudson, she did not ask Sadie to accompany her.
Evan waited near the greenhouse with his hands in the pockets of his coat. He had changed since leaving work, replacing his usual dark sweater with a gray henley that made him look younger and less guarded.
“You said you were feeling better,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “Does that mean you were sick?”
“I thought it was stress.” Abby kept her eyes on the gravel path. “It wasn’t.”
Evan slowed. He did not ask the question that had already appeared in his face.
They reached an empty bench overlooking the pond. Abby sat at one end, and Evan left enough space between them for another person.
“I found out three days ago,” she said as she turned toward him. “I’m pregnant.”
Evan looked at her without moving. The stillness lasted long enough for Abby to hear birds shifting among the reeds beside the water.
“How far along?” he asked.
“Ten weeks and four days.” Abby watched the timing register in his expression. “The doctor confirmed the dates.”
His gaze dropped briefly toward her coat before returning to her face. Abby watched him calculate the timing in the same way Hudson had, but his expression held concern rather than satisfaction.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The question reached her before any discussion of Hudson, the future, or what the pregnancy meant for Evan’s place in her life. Abby released a breath she had been holding since he sat down.
“Physically, yes.” Abby folded her hands in her lap. “The doctor said everything looks healthy. I’ve been nauseated and tired, but there are medications I can take if it gets worse.”
Evan nodded slowly. “How are you feeling about the idea of having a baby?”
Abby had expected the question, though hearing it from him produced a new kind of fear. Her answer would confirm that Hudson could never be removed entirely from her future.
“I want the baby.”
Evan looked toward the pond and released a breath. “I’m glad the baby is healthy.”
Abby studied his profile. The restraint in his voice prevented her from knowing what the news cost him.
Abby looked down at her hands. “Hudson will always be connected to me. Well, at least for the next eighteen years. He thinks the baby means I’ll go back to him, and his parents think we can still become a family.
Every apartment I rent and every decision I make will have to account for a child. ”
“How can I help you?” Evan rested his forearms against his thighs.
Abby had not expected him to ask a question like that. “I don’t know.”
“I’m here to help. With whatever you need.” Evan raised his head, looking up at the sky.
“That’s kind of you,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think. The only reason we keep meeting this way is because Hudson and Makayla hurt both of us. Now I’m having Hudson’s baby.”
“You were having his baby when we met at the diner.” Evan’s voice remained quiet. “Neither of us knew it then, but it doesn’t change anything.”
“Knowing changes how you see me.” Abby watched his face for a reaction he might be trying to spare her. “It has to.”
“It changes what I understand about what you’re dealing with.” He shifted slightly toward her but did not close the distance. “Not what I understand about you.”
The response loosened something in Abby’s chest. Hudson had defined her pregnancy as a route back to the Covington family. Evan allowed it to just be.
“I told Hudson on Saturday,” she said. “He smiled and said he knew we weren’t finished.”
Evan looked away. His injured hand closed once against his knee before he relaxed it. “Did he frighten you?” he asked.
“He didn’t threaten me.” Abby considered the difference. “He wsa clear in telling me that he decided where I would live, how we would raise the baby, and who could come to my appointments. When I refused, he said I was keeping his child from him.”
“You told him in person?” Evan’s attention sharpened. “Were you alone with him?”
“At a café. Sadie was nearby.”
Evan nodded, and some tension left his shoulders.
Abby looked over the pond. “My attorney told me to keep communication in writing.”
“Good.” Evan looked toward the path as another couple passed behind the bench. “Written communication gives him less room to revise what was said.”
They remained on the bench as the afternoon light began to fade. Evan asked about the appointment, and Abby told him about hearing the heartbeat.
“It was much faster than I expected,” she said as she removed the envelope from her purse. “The doctor said that was normal.”
She opened the flap but stopped before taking out the photograph. “Do you want to see?”
Evan hesitated. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes.” Abby selected one of the smaller images and held it toward him. “I wouldn’t have brought them otherwise.”
He accepted the photograph by its white border. His attention settled on the blurred shape, and the guarded control in his face softened.
“That’s the head?” he asked as he angled the image toward the remaining light. “I don’t want to identify the wrong part.”
“The head is on the left.” Abby moved closer to point without touching the photograph. “The doctor said the baby was moving, but I couldn’t tell.”
Evan studied it for several seconds. “It’s very small.”
“About the size of a strawberry.” Abby smiled at the comparison. “At least according to the nurse’s chart.”
“That seems too small to cause this much trouble.” Evan continued studying the photograph with a solemn expression. “It has been extremely efficient.”
The observation was so solemn that Abby laughed before realizing he had intended it gently. Evan looked relieved by the sound.
“The nurse gave me a list of weekly comparisons,” she said. “Apparently fruit is the standard medical measurement.”
“I’ll avoid asking what comes after strawberry.” Evan held the photograph out by its edge. “I suspect the system becomes less scientific.”
“A lime, I think.” Abby returned the image to its envelope. “Although one website said apricot.”
“That seems like a large increase in one week.” Evan looked faintly concerned by the discrepancy. “The fruit comparisons may require better oversight.”
The conversation was ordinary enough to ease the tightness surrounding the image. Abby placed it back in the envelope.
They walked another circuit of the pond before the visitor center announced closing. When they reached the parking lot, Evan stopped beside Abby’s car.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Sadie made me bring crackers.” Abby pointed toward the paper bag in her car. “She packed enough for a delayed flight.”
“Crackers do not constitute dinner.”
Abby looked toward the small paper bag visible on the passenger seat. “No.”
“There’s a restaurant across the street.” Evan nodded toward a row of shops beyond the garden entrance. “We can eat, or I can leave if you want to be alone.”
“I don’t want to be alone.” Abby closed the car door again. “I would like to eat with you.”
They crossed at the light and chose a table near the restaurant window. Evan read the menu without commenting when Abby ordered plain rice and grilled vegetables, then selected something equally mild for himself.
“You don’t have to eat pregnancy food,” Abby said after the server left. “You can order something with flavor.”
“I don’t know what pregnancy food is.” Evan glanced toward the menu the server had taken. “I chose rice because it sounded good.”
“Liar.” But she smiled as she reached for her water. “Bland and tasteless has become my only firm rule.”
“Then I’ll avoid anything spicy while I’m with you.” Evan shifted the small bread plate toward her side of the table. “You can have this if the rice takes too long. The baby can have my share.”
She looked at the bread plate sitting on her side of the table.
Hudson had never once moved something toward her without wanting something back.
She had spent years calling that normal.
The thought arrived without anger, which surprised her.
It was simply true, the way a measurement was true, and sitting across from Evan she could finally see the full distance of it.
Evan shifted the conversation toward her apartment search. Abby showed him two listings, and he asked practical questions about parking, distance from Sadie, and whether either building had elevators.
After dinner, which he paid for, they stood on the sidewalk while the restaurant closed behind them. Evan placed both hands in his coat pockets, his breath visible in the cold.
“I’m glad you told me. About the baby, I mean,” he said as they paused beside Abby’s car. “And I meant what I said about helping however I can.”
“Thank you.” Abby held her keys inside her coat pocket. “I’m realizing I have no idea what I need.”
“You don’t have to know that tonight.” Evan stepped back to give her room to open the door. “You have time.”
Abby looked at him beneath the streetlight. She had spent years believing love meant finding the answer that kept another person calm, but Evan continued leaving room for answers she had not reached.
“I’ll send you the apartment listings,” she said. “If you still want to look.”
“Send them.” Evan stepped back toward his car. “And let me know when you need help moving.”
Abby smiled as she unlocked her own car. For the first time since seeing the positive tests, the future contained something besides her fear.