Prologue
PROLOGUE
ODETTE
Ten Years Ago
Chicago, Illinois
Valentine’s Day
The bathroom tiles are cold beneath my feet as I stare at the plastic stick in my hand. My heart pounds in my chest so hard I can feel it in my throat.
I can hear Mia — my roommate — moving around in our dorm room, humming some pop song under her breath as she gets ready for her date. The closet door creaks open, followed by the shuffle of hangers as she picks out her outfit. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. She’s thinking about the romantic evening ahead with her long-time boyfriend — not that I’m jealous or anything, because I’m not — while I glance at the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the pale, wide-eyed woman looking back at me.
The lines on the test are staring back at me, too.
Two pink lines.
The bathroom suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in. I sink down onto the closed toilet lid, my legs shaky and weak, the test still clutched in my hand.
Positive.
The word echoes in my mind, foreign and terrifying. I feel lightheaded, like the air’s been knocked out of me. My breath comes in shallow, uneven waves, and I can’t seem to stop staring at those two lines. My eyes struggle to catch up to what my brain already knows. To what my body is biologically conditioned to accept. To what this means.
Pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
My hands tremble as I set the test down on the edge of the bathtub, before glancing at the door, making sure it is still locked. My gaze returns to the pregnancy test and I stare at it, hoping — no, wishing — it’s a mistake, that maybe I read it wrong. But I know I didn’t.
I’m going to be a mother.
A mother.
At twenty-one.
Still in college.
I blink as my vision blurs momentarily, the reality too big and overwhelming to adequately process. I take a deep, shaky breath and close my eyes, trying to steady myself. The sound of Mia’s cheerful humming on the other side of the door is a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside me.
Memories of that night in Aspen flash through my mind. To him. The stranger I spent one impulsive, reckless night with — on Christmas Eve — whose name I never learned.
Still, I haven’t been able to forget his charming smile. Or his kind yet smoldering eyes. The way he’d looked at me like I was the center of his universe. How gentle his hand felt on the small of my back as we stumbled to the elevator. How his lips on every inch of my body made my blood sizzle. The feel of his fingers entwined with mine as my body shattered around his.
He was my first. My only.
He was supposed to be a moment of fun, a way to forget my cheating ex-fiancé. A bittersweet memory of a rather painful chapter of my old life I so desperately wished to put behind me.
Only… I can’t, because of this.
A new life growing inside me.
The thought sinks in, slowly. Two months later, it seems he left me with more than just a bittersweet memory. I place a hand on my still-flat stomach, a mix of fear and disbelief washing over me.
Like mother, like daughter.
I suppose the cliché holds true in this case.
The memory of that night in Aspen feels like a lifetime ago, yet the consequences are undeniably present. The weight of it is pressing down on me, squeezing my chest until I can hardly breathe. How am I supposed to figure this out? How do I even begin to process the fact that I’m going to be a mom?
A soft knock on the bathroom door pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Odette, you okay in there?” Mia calls out. “You’ve been in there for a while.”
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, just… give me a minute,” I manage to croak as I stand and frantically shove the test into my pocket.
“Okay, well, I’m heading out in like ten, so just making sure you’re good,” she says, her voice cheery and carefree, like nothing’s wrong.
Besides, why would it?
It’s Valentine’s Day.
Of all days.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Today is supposed to be about romance and love. There’s a box of Godiva chocolates sitting at my desk, untouched. I bought them for myself because I didn’t want to dwell on the fact that my ex-fiancé — Raymond fucking McClure — unceremoniously dumped me two months ago. I’d planned on watching a cheesy rom-com tonight, alone, as I ate my way through that box, and maybe laughed at how ridiculous that engagement was, how mismatched we were from the get-go. Or the numerous giant red flags about Raymond that I’d deliberately ignored for two years, all to gain Mom’s approval and/or recognition.
In the end, it was all moot. When she died, all of her so-called friends fled the coop.
As far as Mom’s parents are concerned, I’m a stain on their perfect daughter’s legacy. With her gone, there’s no reason for them to keep up the happy family charade. Not that there ever was a charade to begin. They kept me close because it was easier to say I was the orphaned daughter of one of their many servants, rather than admit their piano prodigy daughter, their pride and joy, had gotten pregnant out of wedlock.
It’s why I fled the nest the moment I turned eighteen. It’s why I moved here for college, for a fresh start. It’s why I legally changed my name as soon as I could, to distance myself from my famous mother’s legacy. I never knew who my father was; that was one secret Mom took to her grave.
But, as it turns out, Mom and I are alike in so many ways.
The thought makes my stomach churn — or maybe that’s just morning sickness setting in. I splash cold water on my face, then take a deep, shaky breath, staring myself down in the mirror. My auburn hair’s a mess as it hangs limply over my shoulder, my green eyes wide with shock and a little red around the edges. How I look on the outside directly reflects how I feel on the inside — terrified — but behind all that… I see something else, too. A tiny flicker of something I’m not ready to admit just yet — determination , perhaps.
The fear is still there, though, swirling in my chest. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even know where to start. But what I do know is that I am not my mother. I won’t make the same choices she did.
Mia’s impatient knock jolts me back to reality. “Odette?”
“Almost done,” I call out, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
She blows out a breath. “You said that five minutes ago, yet you’ve been in there for thirty minutes.”
Have I?
I wasn’t timing it; we don’t track each other’s bathroom habits. As I reach for the doorknob, her next question gives me pause.
“You’d tell me if anything was wrong, right?”
Would I?
No, I don’t think I would.
Before this semester, Mia and I barely knew each other. It’s nothing personal. Truth is, I don’t have friends here. Despite my desire for a fresh start, I can’t seem to shake the habit of keeping people at arm’s length.
I unlock the door, stepping out into our dorm room. Mia takes one look at me, then she’s in my bubble. Her arms go around my neck and she pulls my body to hers. I just stand there, my fingers trembling as my arms hang limp at my sides, as this reality settles in.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
“You’re going to be late,” I say lamely, because… what else is there to say?
A wry, slightly hysterical chuckle bubbles up from her. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
If only she knew what a loaded statement that is.