17. Allie
ALLIE
Somehow, I hold onto my composure for the duration of the drive from my doctor’s office to the art gallery. I did call my mom about twelve times, but I bit back my tears and my screams and the nausea rolling in my stomach until I could get somewhere safe and park my car.
When I stepped out of that office, I didn’t know what to do.
I panicked. And like every other time in my life when I’ve felt this way, I called my mom.
I didn’t think about what I’d say, or how she’d react.
I didn’t think past anything other than the urge not to be the only person carrying this burden. She didn’t answer.
I pull against the curb outside Muse, throwing my car in park. Once I’m still—key out of the ignition, hands off the wheel—the shock wears off.
My heart rate rises to a rapid, galloping pace. I clasp a hand over my chest, and instinctively, my stomach. I glance down, watching my fingers spread over my abdomen, the reality settling over me.
A sob wrenches from my throat—coarse and raw and tortured.
I won’t be able to replace your implant today… After running a pregnancy test on the urine sample you provided, we received a positive result, Miss Evans.
I… I don’t understand.
You’re pregnant, Allie.
I collapse over the steering wheel, high-pitched wails bellowing out of me, eyes stinging with the weight of the emotion spilling from them. I feel so empty—no other thoughts inside my head than:
How did this happen?
What do I do?
I’m barely twenty-one.
It dawns on me. Mind reeling back to the conversation with Doctor Elliot. I’d barely processed anything after she said the word pregnant, but it begins coming back to me.
When was your last period?
I didn’t have my period with the implant. That’s why I thought it was still working.
Do you have any idea of the time frame when you may have conceived?
I’ve only had sex once in the past year.
Do you have an estimation of that date?
July thirtieth.
I suck in a rapid inhale, sitting up straight. My hands tremble as I reach into my bag and grab my phone, fumbling over the screen as I search his name through blurred vision. My last text message still shows as delivered. He must be at practice.
Me
Good luck today. I’ll be watching in my lucky sweatshirt. Love you.
I hover over the call button, shaking, when my mother’s face flashes across the screen and my phone begins vibrating.
A low groan leaves my mouth as I bite my lip, considering whether to answer.
I was panicking before, and while still distraught, that terror has subsided.
While my mind is still hazed with every question and trepidation under the sun, I’m clearer headed than I was before.
Enough so that I know he needs to be the first person to know about this.
I press ignore, shoot my mom a text to let her know I’ll call back later, and return to Archer’s contact info. I imagine calling him. How I’ll say it.
Hey, I know you have a game tonight, but I thought I’d give you a heads up that I’m carrying your child. Kill it out there!
“Fuck.” I cry. “Fuck.” I slap the steering wheel. “Fuck!” I lose my goddamn mind.
My stomach flips. Nausea rolls, and I know I’m not going to stop it now. I launch myself out of the car, just making it to the entrance of the gallery before I double over, expelling the contents of my stomach all over the fuchsias that line the entrance.
Humiliation floods me at the creak of the door opening. My eyes are closed, nose stinging, hands on my knees as I dry heave and attempt to catch my breath. A hand lands softly on my back, and even though I can’t see him, I recognize the familiar presence.
“Allie. Are you okay?”
My uncle pulls the hair from my face, holding it back as I finally finish retching all over the front entrance to his beloved gallery.
“So-Sorry.” I croak.
“It’s okay.” He hushes me. “It’s okay. What’s happened?”
I shake my head, slowly rising and wiping my mouth. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” He guides me toward the door before holding it open. “Come inside.”
I’ve just realized I don’t know exactly why I drove to Muse.
Sure, it’s been a second home to me all my life.
I used to crawl around the gallery floor as a toddler while my mom hosted events.
I worked here in high school. Spent summers with Willow in one of the workspaces while she learned to paint.
But it doesn’t make sense for me to have shown up here on the cusp of this news.
It’s closer to my doctor’s office than my parent’s house. Perhaps that’s why.
I follow him into the gallery. A steady, warmth envelopes me as he takes me to his office behind the reception desk, guiding me into one of the plush chairs against the wall, a small comfort to the raging anguish rattling my bones.
The room is decorated with a mixture of paintings my aunt Penelope has done for him over the years, and his own art—photographs.
Carter, my dad’s childhood best friend—my godfather—is a world-renowned landscape photographer. Though, I’m too damn queasy right now to appreciate the new pieces he has hanging. I slump over, head falling into my hands as he slides a water bottle into my lap.
“Um…” I sit up, taking a sip. “Can you take me to the airport?”
Carter spins as he pulls a second bottle of water from his minifridge, popping his brow as he studies me. “You have a trip planned?”
I shake my head. “I need to go to Texas.”
“Tonight?” he asks. “Thought you were staying home this weekend.”
Despair swirls through me once more, and I swallow it down, afraid to be sick again. “I need to see Archer.”
His hazel eyes narrow as he rakes a hand through his chestnut hair, streaked with gray. “Allie, I—”
“Please.” My nose stings. Tears well inside my eyes once more. My voice breaks with another plea, “Please. I need to get to Texas. I need a ride to the airport.”
He pauses, studying me for a moment. “Is it life or death?”
That anguish becomes trapped inside my throat, causing me to stutter.
I don’t know.
I only shake my head. “I just… I need him.”
Carter chews the inside of his cheek before finally nodding. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
“Thank you.” The words leave my mouth in a rushed whisper.
“What would a godfather be for if not to drive the getaway car, right?” He winks as he tosses his office door open, allowing me to lead him back to my car.
I hand him my keys as I slide into the passenger seat.
“Do you need to stop at home and get a bag or something?”
“No,” I say, buckling myself in. “I’ve got a change of clothes in my dance bag that I can wash at Archer’s apartment. I just need you to take my car back to my parents’ house later. I’ll have one of them pick me up when I come back.”
“And what should I tell them?” he asks as he pulls away from the gallery and heads toward the interstate.
“I’ll let them know once I’m on the plane.” I pull up my phone, searching for flights to Austin. “Looks like there is one that leaves at two. We should be able to make it.”
I don’t book a return ticket. I won’t allow myself to think farther into the future than reaching Archer tonight. I’m going to have to change his life forever, and I don’t know what the reaction will be to that. Hell, I don’t even know how to react.
I’m self-aware enough to know that this impulsive decision is a way of avoiding my own processing of the news.
My uncle is quiet for a while before he says softly, “You know…I used to think about it a lot. Hopping on a plane and flying to England for Penelope when she was living there.” He glances in my direction. “I never did.”
“Do you ever wish you would’ve?”
He nods, eyes fixed on the road now. “I lost five years with my greatest love because I was afraid. I’ve had twenty-five with her since, and even still, I know that someday I’ll take my last breath, and my final thought will be how I wish we’d had more time.”
My gaze falls to my lap as a tear drips off my chin and lands on my thumb. I hadn’t realized I was crying again.
“I’d hate to see you live that same experience, so…” He turns into the entrance of the airport for departures, pulling against the curb. The dimple in his chin appears as he smiles at me from the driver’s seat. “Go catch that flight.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, grabbing my bag from the backseat before stepping out of the car.
“Love you, Allie.”
“Love you too.” I smile, shutting the door.
I rush through security, making it to my gate just as my boarding group is called. Anxiety unfurls in me as I scan my ticket and make my way across the jet bridge. I fucking hate flying. Always have, since I was a child. I can’t fly alone, and I must always sit in the window seat.
Today, I’m alone and in the middle seat.
I’m fucking afraid. For so, so many reasons.
As I settle into my seat and fasten my belt over my abdomen, I allow it to sink in for the first time. The life growing inside me. A life that’s half him. My head falls against the headrest as I lift my hood, hiding my face and the tears that stream down my cheeks.
I give autonomy to the images that want to flash across my vision.
I let myself see them—rounded belly, his hand atop it.
The pierce of a cry, and the soft caress of his soothing voice.
Kicks and flutters and baby laughs. A human being that is half of each of us, and the way that maybe…
Maybe it won’t be so hard, after all. Not if I’m doing it with him. Maybe it’s possible for us to be okay.
Maybe, someday when I take my last breath, I won’t think of the years apart.
I spread my palm over my stomach.
Maybe I’ll think of this. The moment—the purpose—that could finally bring us together.
Maybe he’s right—he’s always been right. It’s always been us, and maybe this is the reason why.