Chapter 26
Elizabeth
The door closes with a soft click, but it echoes through my body like a slammed gate. The silence that follows feels peaceful. Through the chaos and history, my strength has finally settled me.
I stand there, replaying the conversation we just had. Bear hops onto his bed, eyes fixed on me as if he can sense something has shifted. Everything has.
A few weeks pass, my days filled with writing, walking, and little encouraging messages between James and me.
When I get fully immersed in writing and forget to eat, James brings me a plate of freshly baked croissants and tea.
My belly is growing with the start of a small baby bump.
It is still faint, but I can see it. Can feel the change.
Evenings are quiet now. Whatever I find myself doing, a gentle peace has grown within me, right next to my baby’s heartbeat.
Theo hasn’t contacted me in weeks, and I have come to realise that my life is far less chaotic without him. A lot less painful.
With his distance, it’s become easier to make a decision that has been weighing on me for a while.
I won’t let my pregnancy stay hidden anymore.
I can’t keep it a secret; I won’t. I know how it feels to be somebody’s secret, and I won’t allow that for my baby.
I make my way over to my desk and open my laptop, dialling the girls’ numbers.
Fiona is the first to answer.
“Eden, babe, can you be quiet for one moment? Aunty Elle is on the phone.” I smile at the chaos in her house, and I watch on, realising this is what I have to look forward to.
In the background, I see her husband, Richard, scoop Eden up as she giggles, a perfect little sound from a perfect little girl.
Fiona’s focus turns to me as Kitty comes into the call.
I watch Fiona’s expression switch to concern, her eyes get smaller and her brow furrows, but she keeps her smile light.
There’s a tiredness in her eyes, hidden behind her beautiful smile.
“Elle, are you okay? I love you, but you look rough!” I smile at her bluntness.
“Wow, Fiona. You could’ve softened it a bit. Thought I was the harsh one in this triangle,” Kitty jokes as she fixes her hair, which really didn’t need fixing.
“Girls, I need to tell you something.” The call goes quiet as they both sit and wait. I watch as Kitty leans forward and Fiona asks Richard to take Eden and leave the room.
I stand up and step back. I slowly turn to the side and rub over my little bump.
“Holy shit… is that what I think it is?” Kitty exclaims. I slowly nod my head, and tears fill my eyes. Fiona’s hand flies to her mouth as I watch a tear roll down her cheek.
“Congratulations, Elle.” Fiona calls Richard back into the room, and they all smile into the camera.
We spend an hour talking animatedly, filling them in about the sickness and the overwhelming feeling of love I already have.
They are all so excited, and it fills my chest with pride.
There is no judgement, none of the “are you sure about this?” that I’d been expecting. Just pure love and support.
“Ok, so I can plan a baby shower, right?” Kitty asks.
“Only if it’s just us, Kitty. I would love that. Just something small with my two favourite people.”
“Deal. I’m on it! Gotta go, got a shower to plan.” With that, Kitty says goodbye and ends the call.
Fiona doesn’t say goodbye. She doesn’t end the call. I watch her wipe a tear from her eye, and then she breaks the silence.
“Is he sticking around for this, Elle?” I shake my head and lower my head into my hands.
“Hey… look at me.” I look back up, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“I’ve got you, babe. You don’t need him.
You know that. That baby will be loved so much without him.
You have us, ok?” I nod at her. “I wish I was there to hug you right now.”
“Thank you, Fi.” My voice is shaky, and I feel so exposed with her. “I wish you were here too.”
“No need to thank me. We’re here for you. Don’t ever forget that. And just to let you know, if I ever see Theodore Masters again, I will chop his balls off.” I burst out laughing, so loud that it shocks me. I can always rely on Fiona.
“Are you ok?” I eventually ask. A flicker of something I don’t recognise fills her expression, which is quickly replaced by a confidence I don’t believe.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she says, too softly. She waves goodbye, and I sit looking at the empty screen.
I jump when I hear a knock at the door. I know it isn’t James. He is on an overnight shift, which means there is only one other person who would knock on my door this late in the evening. Bear growls until I pull it open.
And there he stands.
Theodore.
His red-rimmed eyes show me something close to desperation.
“I can’t stay away any longer,” he says.
I don’t reply. I can’t.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about our conversation on your porch. The way you looked at me.” He hesitates. “You were different. Not just angry. It was like… you left.”
My hand instinctively rises to my growing belly. “You left, Theo. Not me.”
He looks down at where my hand is resting, and his entire body flinches.
His eyes don’t leave my stomach as he speaks.
“I know you didn’t want me to call, but I’ve been losing my mind not knowing if you’re ok.
I have lost count of the amount of times I have driven past this cottage and stopped myself from knocking,” Finally, he looks at me. “How’s the baby doing?”
I cross my arms.
“I don’t know what to do, Elizabeth!” His voice is desperate, then he catches himself, softening. “I’m scared.”
“And you think I’m not?” I whisper.
A beat of silence passes. He steps closer, his voice dropping.
“I miss you. Even now. Even like this. Sunshine… I will never stop loving you.”
My heart twists painfully, because despite it all, I still remember what it feels like when he whispers my name in the dark, when I thought love meant hiding. I remember the spark that filled my life when he sat down at my coffee shop table.
“I’m not doing this anymore, Theo.” I whisper.
“I’m not asking for forever. Just tonight. A conversation. Please.” He’s begging.
Against my better judgment, I step aside and let him in.
The cottage is warmly lit, quiet except for the hum of the evening.
Theo enters slowly, like he doesn’t quite believe that I’ve let him in, tentative and quiet.
Bear sits protectively by the fireplace.
I have noticed that Bear no longer greets Theo like he used to. As if he knows.
“I asked you once if you would leave Olivia for me? Do you remember?” He nods, his mouth twitching, the memory landing sharp between us. “I’m not going to ask you again. I don’t need to. I know the answer already.”
“Elizab-”
“No! You’re not going to interrupt me. Not this time.” My voice is unwavering and strong. The kind of strength I am proud of. “You love her. Or you don’t; either way, you stayed with her. You chose her over me.”
He swallows, unable to meet my eyes.
“You come here like a storm every time you feel me slipping away. You say you miss me. You kiss me. You take pieces of me and then you go back home, leaving me feeling used and broken.” I don’t want to stop, my words tumbling furiously.
“And you know the worst thing about it? I was letting you do it. I lost all respect for myself. I let you. Because I wanted to believe that I mattered to you.”
“You do matter,” he tries to reply.
“Clearly not enough,” I snap back just as fast. “Not enough for you to leave her. Not enough to stay. Not enough to love this baby with me.”
Theo sits heavily on the edge of the couch, head in his hands. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“It’s too late, Theo. You don’t get to fix it,” I say quietly. “Not anymore.”
He looks up. “Then why did you let me in?”
“Because I needed to hear myself say it out loud.”
Theo stares at me. Really stares, and for once, he doesn’t try to fight it. There is no seduction, no apology on his lips. Just silence. The kind that finally allows me to breathe.
He slides off the couch and drops to his knees, laying one hand on my stomach and the other wrapped around my waist. He doesn’t say anything, just lays his head on my growing stomach.
I close my eyes as I gently push him away from me.
Crossing the room without another word, opening the drawer next to the fireplace, the sadness hits me hard.
Overwhelming, heartbreaking sadness. The same drawer I had put those two tests in months ago.
This time I pull out a folded piece of glossy paper.
I hold it for a moment, my eyes drifting over it.
Then I cross back over to where he’s still on the floor, defeated and as broken as I am. I hold it out to him.
He stands up and takes it carefully, as if it might bite him. He unfolds the crinkled paper. There, looking back at him, is a grainy black and white picture. A little figure. Tiny limbs curled like a question mark in the middle of the black and white blur.
“It’s a girl,” I whisper.
Theo doesn’t look up. He stares at the photo as if it’s a language he doesn’t understand.
“I had the scan yesterday,” I continue. “They confirmed the sex with a blood test. The doctor told me something else, too. You deserve to know…”
Now when he looks up, his face has lost all its usual charm. It has been stripped bare.
“What is it?” he asks, panic tightening his jaw.
“This is going to be a high-risk pregnancy.” I explain calmly.
I take a breath, making sure I’m composed for him.
“The doctors suspect a low-lying placenta, but we won’t know for sure until later scans.
Sometimes it moves up on its own, but if it doesn’t…
” I can’t bring myself to say anything more than that. “The doctors want to watch us closely.”
He just stares, stunned. I shake my head, tears suddenly spilling. “And I have to do it on my own… without you. Because you won’t leave her or a baby that’s not even yours! Because you’re not in this. You’re not here. Not really.”
“Elizabeth…” He reaches out to me, the ultrasound picture still in his other hand.
I step back.
“No, you don’t get to touch me now. Not just because you’re scared.”
He looks down again at the image. “A girl…”
“I didn’t tell you to guilt you. I told you because you deserve to know. Because I won’t keep her a secret, like you did to me.”
I wipe my cheeks, trying to regain some composure, even as my chest heaves.
“Do you want to be her father?” I ask, in a voice barely above a whisper. “Not when it’s convenient, not just when you feel nostalgic. But in the sleepless nights, the hospital visits. In the fear and wonder and the mess of it.”
Theo opens his mouth, then closes it again. That right there is my answer. I take the ultrasound from him, clutching it to my chest.
“You need to leave now.”
His eyes are glassy, but he doesn’t argue with me.
He stands paused. It seems like he might say something else, but then thinks better of it.
His mouth quivers like he’s trying to find something to hold on to, but everything has slipped away.
He slowly turns away from me and makes his way towards the door, closing it with a finality I wasn’t expecting to feel.
I stand in the middle of my living room, holding onto my stomach, my breath uneven but strong.
There is a hollow hum, like the echo of an argument never spoken aloud. I don’t move at first. I just stand there gripping my stomach.
Outside, the wind plays lightly with the trees.
The sea hisses in the distance, but inside the cottage, everything is still.
Eventually, I cross the room slowly, turning off one light at a time.
I move on autopilot. Brushing my teeth without tasting the toothpaste, pulling on my pyjamas feeling like something separate from myself.
I crawl into bed alone. The pillow cold.
Lying on my side, knees curled, I place the ultrasound on the nightstand beside me. My hand gently strokes my belly. I press it softly, willing something. Comfort, connection, courage… anything.
Tears come again, but quieter this time. Not the sharp edge of earlier, but slowly, silently, tired streams slipping from my eyes, soaking the pillow beneath my cheek. I’m sick of crying. It’s exhausting. It’s breaking me down.
I hate that I still miss him.
Sleep doesn’t come quickly. It trickles in between memories and dreams. Flashes of Theo’s hand on my stomach, of his lips at my mouth, of all the times I have let myself believe that he might choose me.
I dream restlessly. Of waves crashing, little baby hands I can’t quite reach, of voices calling my name and fading too soon.
The first rays of light are soft coming through the curtains, but it feels too bright for me. My head aches and my eyes are swollen. I haven’t moved much in the night as I’m still curled on my side. Still clinging to myself.
I don’t reach for my phone. Don’t make my usual morning coffee.
Instead, I stay where I am for a while longer, tracing the slight curve of my stomach beneath the blanket with gentle fingers.
For the first time in what feels like weeks, I breathe in.
Really breathe. And let it out in one long, steady exhale.
Bear paws at the bedroom door. I smile faintly, get up to open the door and call him up to the bed.
He leaps on without hesitation, curling against me and laying his head on my small bump with the quiet intuition only a dog has.
We stay like that for a while, just the three of us, waiting for whatever comes next.