Chapter 8
Miles
Emma's hand finds mine as we walk back to the cars, and I realize this is the first time in days she's looked me in the eye without panicking. Progress.
"We're really doing this," she says quietly.
"We're really doing this."
"You're not freaking out?"
"I'm absolutely freaking out." I unlock my car. "But I'm also excited. And terrified. And probably going to research everything obsessively for the next six months."
"Seven months and three weeks," she corrects automatically.
"See? You're already doing the math. We're going to be fine."
I follow her home, watching her car ahead of me. She's probably reading through "Your First Trimester" at every red light.
"Did you know the baby is the size of a blueberry right now?" she calls me while on the way home.
"A blueberry with opinions about pickles, apparently."
"The pamphlet doesn't mention pickle cravings specifically. That seems like an oversight."
"Maybe you should write them a letter."
"Dear Pregnancy Pamphlet Authors, Please include a section on pickle obsession. Sincerely, A Concerned Mother-to-Be."
I laugh, and she giggles—actually giggles—for the first time all day.
At home, Emma heads straight for the couch, kicking off her shoes with a deep sigh.
"I need to make some calls," she says, pulling out her phone.
"Brennen?"
"And Preston. And Ryan." She looks at the phone like it might bite her. "I've been avoiding decisions for a week. Time to actually make them."
"Want me to give you privacy?"
"No." She grabs my hand before I can move. "Stay. I need you here. And put it on speaker—I don't want to repeat myself."
I settle beside her as she dials Brennen and puts the phone on speaker.
"Emma! Are you okay? You were crying earlier and I've been worried sick—"
"I'm fine, Brennen. I'm sorry I scared you." She takes a breath. "I vote to expand Celtic Knot."
Silence. Then: "What?"
"Expand. Buy the property. Chase your dream. Build something for the next generation."
"Emma—" His voice cracks. "Are you serious?"
"Completely serious. You've worked too hard to sell out now. Take the risk. I believe in you."
I hear what might be a sob on the other end. "Thank you. God, Emma, thank you. This means everything—"
"I know. Now listen, I need to ask you something."
"Anything."
"Can you and Joselyn come over for breakfast tomorrow? Around nine?"
"Breakfast? Sure, but—"
"Great. See you then." She hangs up before he can ask questions, then immediately dials Preston & Associates.
Mr. Preston answers professionally. "Emma! I was hoping to hear from you."
"I'm accepting the merger." She says it firmly, no hesitation. "I'll have the signed contract to you within the hour."
"That's wonderful news! We're thrilled to have you join the team."
"I have one additional request."
"Name it."
"I'm pregnant. A few weeks. I need confirmation that the maternity leave policy is as comprehensive as outlined in the benefits package."
There's a pause, then genuine warmth in his voice. "Congratulations, Emma. And yes, absolutely. Sixteen weeks paid, option for part-time return, full coverage. We'll make it work. That's a promise."
"Thank you."
"Welcome to Preston & Associates. I'll have HR reach out Monday to start the transition process."
She hangs up and immediately opens her laptop, pulling up the contract. Her fingers fly across the keyboard as she adds her electronic signature, attaches it to an email, and hits send.
"Done," she says, closing the laptop. "No going back now."
"How do you feel?"
"Lighter. Terrified. Relieved." She leans against me. "Like I just made the smartest decision of my life but I'm still waiting for someone to tell me I'm wrong."
"You're not wrong. You're building something sustainable. That's smart, not weak."
"Tell that to my imposter syndrome."
"Your imposter syndrome is an idiot."
She laughs, then picks up her phone again. "One more call."
Ryan answers with his typical efficiency. "Emma. Everything okay?"
"I'm fine. Can you and Candace come over for breakfast tomorrow? Nine AM?"
"Breakfast?" Suspicion colors his tone. "What's going on?"
"Can't I invite my brother over for breakfast?"
"You've never invited me to breakfast in your life. You barely acknowledge my existence before noon."
"Fair point. But I'm asking now. Please?"
"Fine. But Emma—"
"Nine AM. Don't be late." She hangs up and drops the phone like it burned her. "Okay. Everyone's coming tomorrow. We're telling them."
"You sure you're ready?"
"No. But I'm doing it anyway." She looks at me. "We're doing it anyway."
Her phone buzzes with an email notification. She glances at it and smiles. "Mr. Preston. 'Congratulations and welcome to the team. So happy you're joining us.' With three exclamation points. I think he's actually excited."
"You're an excellent attorney. He should be excited."
"I'm an excellent pregnant attorney who's about to work reasonable hours and have actual support staff. It's revolutionary."
"It's smart."
"Stop being so supportive. It's unnerving."
"Never."
We sit there for a while, Emma curled against me, processing everything that just happened. She made three major life decisions in approximately fifteen minutes. That's very Emma—once she commits, she commits completely.
"Miles?"
"Yeah?"
"What if they freak out tomorrow?"
"They probably will. Your brothers aren't exactly subtle."
"What if they're mad I didn't tell them sooner?"
"Then we deal with it. Together."
"What if—"
I kiss her. Effectively shutting down the spiral before it starts.
"We're going to be fine," I say against her lips. "All of us. You, me, and our blueberry."
"Blueberry with pickle opinions."
"The most important kind."
The next morning, I'm in the kitchen at 7 AM making breakfast when I hear Emma bolt from the bedroom. The bathroom door slams, followed by the unmistakable sound of morning sickness.
I abandon the eggs and head to the bathroom, finding her bent over the toilet, hair falling in her face.
"Go away," she mumbles.
"Not a chance." I gather her hair, holding it back while she empties her stomach. Again.
"This is humiliating."
"This is pregnancy," I say. "Not like you were out drinking last night. This is just part of the process."
"I hate this."
"I know."
When she's done, she sits back against the wall, pale and miserable. "They're going to be here in two hours and I look like death."
"You look beautiful."
"You're a terrible liar."
"I'm an excellent liar. I was a SEAL. But I'm also telling the truth." I hand her a damp washcloth. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
Thirty minutes later, Emma's showered, dressed in comfortable clothes, and eating crackers while glaring at the scrambled eggs I made.
"I can't eat those."
"I know. That's why I made you toast."
"Plain toast?"
"The plainest."
"You're very good at this."
"I've been practicing."
The doorbell rings at exactly 9 AM. Ryan's punctuality is both a blessing and a curse.
Emma takes a deep breath. "Okay. We're doing this."
I open the door to find Ryan and Candace on the porch, both looking slightly concerned. Brennen and Joselyn pull up right behind them, Brennen practically bouncing with energy.
"Whatever this is about, I'm excited!" Brennen announces, hugging Emma. "You never invite us to breakfast. This is new. I like new."
Ryan's studying Emma with that analytical SEAL stare. "You look better than you did at the exhibition."
"Thanks?" Emma says.
Candace hands her a container. "I brought muffins. Just in case you needed backup food."
"That's sweet, but Miles made—" Emma glances at the eggs, turns slightly green. "Actually, muffins sound perfect."
Everyone settles in the living room. I've set up coffee for them—decaf for Emma, though I don't draw attention to it. Yet.
"So," Ryan says, getting straight to business. "Why are we here?"
Emma looks at me. I nod encouragingly.
"I have some news," she starts. "Actually, we have news. Multiple news items. Newses? Is that a word?"
"You're stalling," Brennen observes.
"I am absolutely stalling." Emma takes a breath. "Okay. First: I accepted the merger with Preston & Associates."
Candace beams. "That's wonderful! Emma, that's such a smart move—"
"Second," Emma continues, "Miles and I are having a baby."
Nobody speaks.
Ryan blinks. Once. Twice.
Brennen's mouth falls open.
Candace gasps, hands flying to her face.
Joselyn starts grinning.
Then Ryan laughs. Actually laughs, dropping his head into his hands. "Oh, thank God."
"What?" Emma stares at him.
"You're just pregnant." Brennen's laughing too now, looking slightly hysterical. "You're JUST pregnant. That's it."
"What do you mean JUST?" Emma's voice rises. "I'm growing a human! In here!" She points at her stomach.
"We thought you had cancer!" Ryan blurts out.
The room freezes.
"You WHAT?" Emma shrieks.
"You've been sick for weeks!" Brennen gestures wildly. "Pale, nauseous, avoiding everyone, losing weight—"
"I haven't lost weight—"
"You looked like death at the exhibition," Ryan continues. "And the wine! You wouldn't drink the wine! You LOVE wine!"
"So, you thought I was DYING?" Emma stares at them. "I look a little green and you instantly decided I've bought the farm?"
"The entire town thinks you're seriously ill!" Joselyn adds helpfully. "Julie started a meal train. Daisy posted prayer requests on Instagram."
Emma looks at me in horror. "They think I have CANCER?"
"The rumor mill got creative," I admit.
"Someone suggested leukemia," Brennen says. "Dorothy from the book club mentioned rare blood disorders—"
"DOROTHY?" Emma's practically yelling now. "Dorothy thinks I have a BLOOD DISORDER?"
Candace is trying not to laugh. "We were all very concerned. Very worried. Planning interventions and support systems—"
"I'M PREGNANT!" Emma shouts. "NOT DYING!"
"We know that NOW," Ryan says, grinning. "And it's much better news than cancer."
"The bar was VERY LOW, Ryan."
"Congratulations!" Brennen wraps Emma in a huge hug, lifting her off her feet. "You're going to be a mom! I'm going to be an uncle! This is amazing!"
"Put me down before I throw up on you."
He sets her down quickly. "Right. Morning sickness. That was a symptom we missed."
"Because you thought I had CANCER."
Ryan pulls her into a hug next, gentler than Brennen. "I'm really happy for you, Em. Both of you. This is great news."
"Even though you thought I was dying?"
"Especially because we thought you were dying. The relief is making this extra exciting."
Candace hugs Emma next, wiping tears. "I'm so happy for you. When are you due?"
"March," Emma says, still looking slightly dazed. "Early March."
"How far along?" Joselyn asks.
"Six weeks."
"And you're feeling okay?" Candace's doctor instincts kick in. "Besides the morning sickness?"
"I'm fine. Tired. Nauseous. Obsessed with pickles—"
"THE PICKLES!" Brennen snaps his fingers. "That makes so much sense now! Sophie said you had pickles at the exhibition!"
"I have pickles everywhere," Emma admits. "I may have a problem."
"It's a craving, not a problem," I correct.
"Stop being nice. I'm hormonal and I'll cry."
"Too late," Joselyn says, pointing at Emma's face where tears are already falling.
"I hate all of you," Emma sniffles.
"You love us," Brennen corrects, hugging her again. "And we love you. Even when we thought you were dying."
"Especially when we thought you were dying," Ryan adds.
"Can we PLEASE stop talking about me dying?"
"Fine," Ryan says. "Let's talk about you merging with Preston & Associates instead. When does that start?"
"Next week. They're sending over transition paperwork Monday."
"This is the best day!" Brennen looks at Joselyn. "We should celebrate! Dinner tonight? Everyone? We can toast Emma's pregnancy and the expansion—"
"With sparkling cider for Emma," Candace says.
"Obviously."
Emma looks overwhelmed. "Can we maybe not do a big thing tonight? I'm exhausted and nauseous and I just told my entire family I'm pregnant after they thought I was dying—"
"Fair point," Ryan concedes. "Rain check on celebration dinner. But Emma?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really happy for you." His voice is sincere. "Both of you. This is good news."
Everyone laughs, and just like that, the tension breaks. The secret's out. The family knows. And instead of judgment or disappointment, there's just joy.
The breakfast I made sits forgotten on the counter as Candace starts asking about doctors and prenatal care. Brennen's already planning the nursery color scheme. Ryan's calculating childcare costs and offering to help with any costs. Joselyn's texting Sophie with the news.
Emma looks at me, slightly dazed. "This is a lot."
"Welcome to Murphy family chaos."
"They thought I was dying."
"They were very relieved to be wrong."
"Dorothy thinks I have a blood disorder."
"We'll correct that rumor eventually."
She leans against me, and I wrap my arm around her. Our blueberry with pickle opinions is going to have the most chaotic, loving, overprotective family in Pelican Point.
Perfect.
"Miles?" Emma whispers.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For waiting. For being patient. For making me feel safe enough to tell you."
I kiss her forehead. "That's what I'm here for."
Brennen's now demonstrating proper baby-holding technique using a throw pillow like he would eve know. Ryan's taking notes on his phone. Candace is looking up pregnancy apps. Joselyn's already planning a baby shower.
Emma watches them all with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.
"We're really doing this," she says again.
"We really are."
And for the first time since she found out, she doesn't look terrified. Just happy.
That's all I needed to see.