Chapter 34
Breezy
Is this rock bottom?
I mean, that can be the only explanation for why I’m sitting in Norah’s SUV, clutching a plastic gas station bag like it contains nuclear codes instead of a pregnancy test.
“Everyone in that Stop and Go was looking at me,” I blurt, words tumbling out before I can stop them.
“I know you said people in Molene wouldn’t recognize us, but I swear they did.
My buying a pregnancy test is going to end up spreading all the way to Eileen’s lap and plastered across the front page of the damn Chronicle. ”
Norah laughs, and I scowl. She glances my way briefly, the corners of her mouth still twitching as she steers the car down Josie’s long gravel driveway.
“I’m sorry,” she says, still smiling. “I’m not laughing at you, really.
It’s just…the people in the Stop and Go were looking at you because you knocked down an entire tower of soup cans.
Also, Eileen wouldn’t dare get her gossip from another town.
That’s not her style. Plus, she hates Brandy Lockwood. ”
“Who in the hell is Brandy Lockwood?”
“She runs the Molene Gazette. Basically, Eileen Martin 2.0.”
Once we’re in front of Clay and Josie’s house, Norah shifts into park and cuts the ignition. Her seat belt clicks free with a sharp snap that ricochets through my skull, and I instantly want to scream.
I can’t explain it—this anger that keeps boiling up or the ache that sits heavy behind my ribs. It’s like my emotions have staged a coup and I’m just the hostage.
“Well, then,” Norah ventures cautiously. “Shall we go inside?”
I nod instead of answering; gestures are all I’m capable of right now with these yo-yoing freaking emotions of mine.
“Right. Going inside, then.” She opens her door and climbs out gracefully, moving toward the house like someone untouched by chaos.
Basically, the complete opposite of me—with my half-baked plans, nonexistent direction, and a potential life-altering surprise shaped like a tiny human with Tad Hanson’s eyes.
Norah lifts her dainty fingers to the door to knock while I drag my legs through metaphorical mud, and the stark contrast between the two of us has my anger renewing tenfold.
I seethe to myself, wrapping my fingers around the handles of the bag that contains the stupid test until they dig into the skin and turn it purple.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to literally scream Josie’s house down like she’s one of the pigs and I’m a big bad, possibly pregnant wolf, but she opens the door before I get the chance, and the battle cry dies in my throat.
At the sight of her, I turn weepy.
Her hair is disheveled, her sweater oversized, and her eyes are sunken into the void of two deep, dark circles.
Maybe it’s that she’s the embodiment of everything I’m feeling and then some—a freaking mess and a half and opposite of normal in every way—but one more swing of emotions and I’m going to launch myself right into outer space.
“You look like shit, sis. Are you okay?” Norah doesn’t beat around the bush to save feelings.
Josie flips Norah the middle finger but opens the door wider, stepping out of the way so we can step in. “Oh, I’m great. Come inside quick, maybe you’ll catch it.”
Norah twists at the waist, her eyes widening slightly. “Maybe you’re not pregs, Breeze. Maybe it’s just a stomach bug.” She laughs, waggling her eyebrows with her back toward Josie. “Seems to be going around.”
“I’m not puking,” Josie contests easily. “I’m just tired. And you’re not puking, but you’re an asshole.”
I snort, and Josie turns her attention to me. “So, you think you might be knocked up, huh?”
I sigh and glare at Norah.
She shrugs in apology, licking at her top lip. “Look, I’m sorry, but I had to let her into the circle of trust. She wasn’t going to allow us in the house otherwise.”
I groan. I didn’t even notice her on the phone, but I suppose she had a few minutes while I was rolling around on the floor of the Stop and Go with the soup cans to make covert moves.
“I don’t think I’m pregnant, but seeing as I’ve been violently ill and emotionally unstable all morning, I suppose I should make sure. ”
“You know you have to have sex to get pregnant, right?” Josie teases. “I think there was only one immaculate conception.”
I roll my eyes, and she squeals. It’s very un-Josie-like, which makes it even more annoying. “Come on. Your sister has already been squealing all the way to Molene and back. Not you too,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Breeze!” Josie snaps. “You have to give me a little squealing—a squeak, at least. I mean, this is news. Who have you been sleeping with? Last time we talked, you were considering celibacy and a vibrator as your five-year plan.”
“I’m not ready to talk about this yet. Maybe after the test, but not before.”
“Fine, fine. Then go take the fucker,” Josie insists. “Bathroom is the second door on the left.”
Plastic bag in hand, I walk the march of shame down Josie’s long hallway, glancing at pictures from her and Clay’s wedding on the walls and smiling at the pictures of both Summer and Autumn that flank them.
I want to linger—to stay here where it feels safe and good and familiar—but I don’t. It’s not who I am, not who I’ve ever been. I face things head on. I make plans and lists, and I get stuff done. If a test is the next step, a test is what I’ll take.
Stepping into the bathroom, I close the door behind me and lock it, even though I know Josie and Norah would never betray my privacy by coming inside without permission. It’s just a subtle comfort—a reminder of NYC in some weird way, I guess, since locking doors there was like a reflex.
I study my face in the mirror, expecting the poltergeist, but for a woman who’s spent the morning retching, I look remarkably at ease. Softer than normal—like I’ve finally gotten enough oxygen after years of deprivation.
The bag crinkles as I dig inside, discarding it in Josie’s small trash can and tearing open the cardboard box to pull out the test.
My hands shake as I try to rip the seam of the blue foil package, failing two times before getting it.
I take a deep breath as I read through the instructions carefully, summarizing in my head as I go—uncap, pee a continuous stream on the absorption pad for at least five seconds, recap, and then lie test flat for three or more minutes.
It seems simple, but the sheer audacity of needing to take this test for the first time in my life because I might be knocked up by a freaking sheep farmer from one of the smallest freaking towns ever is…overbearing, to say the least.
I lick my lips and set the foil on the countertop next to the sink basin, holding the test with a viselike grip while I pull my pants down and sit on the toilet seat.
Josie has a picture of a flowerpot hanging on the wall directly across from me, and I find myself counting the petals along with the seconds as I place the test between my legs.
One, two, three, four, five. Six—just in case.
My hands are trembling—not from clumsiness, but from the quiet, creeping realization that everything could change because of one tiny pink line.
I recap the test and then lay it on the counter beside the foil packaging while I finish my business, flush, and wash my hands.
Once done, my palm drifts to my stomach before I can stop it. The gesture feels foreign, like I’m touching someone else’s body.
Motherhood was never something I pictured for myself. Never something I wanted, or maybe just never something I let myself want. I’ve spent so many years trying to control everything, and being a mother has always felt like the opposite of control. It’s pure surrender.
Still, the thought of it now—of the possibility—hits me somewhere deep and shaky. Because, if this test is positive, it means something inside me decided I was ready before I ever said I was.
And maybe that’s the scariest part.
I exhale slowly and try to steady myself by bracing my hands on the bathroom sink.
I shouldn’t be here.
If my father hadn’t died, if he’d done right by the years I gave him and Bishop Galleries, I’d still be in New York.
I’d still be busy, sharp, untouchable. And you’d still be pretending that chasing artists and investors and building an empire meant you weren’t lonely and subconsciously craving a life that felt like living.
I sigh. Bottom line, if my father hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be in Red Bridge. I wouldn’t be in Tad Hanson’s orbit. And I wouldn’t be standing in Josie’s bathroom with a pregnancy test on the counter.
And yet, here I am.
Whatever this thing is between Tad and me, I’ve been telling myself it’s light and uncomplicated. I mean, casual is what we said from the start.
But maybe it never was…
God, what will he say if this test is positive?
What will I say? What will I think and feel?
Checking my watch quickly, I note the time that’s passed and blow out another audible breath. There’s about a minute left—a minute to wait on one of the scariest answers I’ve ever dared to ask for.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I dig it out to look at it.
Tad: You okay? I’m worried about you.
Yeah. I’m worried about me too.
…
My steps are wooden and choppy as I head back down the hall toward Josie’s kitchen, her and Norah’s voices echoing softly toward me.
They bicker and laugh like only siblings can, and I take comfort in the warmth of familiarity. Bennett and I have always been loving enemies—the type of family that fights one minute and defends to the death the next—and Josie and Norah are much the same way.
Both of their heads come up as I round the corner, and my words catch in my chest.
“Well?” Norah asks gently, glancing back to Josie before settling on me once and for all.
It’s all I can do to say the words. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, Breezy,” Norah whispers, joy and compassion and shock all wrapped up in the prettiest of sisterly bows.
She’s so good for Bennett, but she’s good for me too.
She’s good for all of us. Her softness, her understanding—they’re impossible to recreate.
And goodness, I sure need them now more than ever.
Josie jumps up and pulls out a chair for me, and I plop into it unceremoniously, sinking my face into my hands. “What the fuck am I going to do?”
Norah’s voice is gentle. “What do you mean, honey?”
“I meannn…I’m pregnant. I’m basically living at your house because New York doesn’t feel like home anymore. I’m career-less. I’m without drive or direction or a plan or…anything. I don’t recognize myself most days, let alone what I’m supposed to be as a mother. I don’t—”
“Breezy, come on,” Josie cuts in before I can completely spiral.
“Sure, this is unexpected, but you’ve been kicking ass and taking names for as long as I’ve known you.
You can handle anything—you’ve handled anything that’s ever been thrown at you.
If you want a plan, you’ll come up with a plan. And if you want help, we’ll help you.”
“I don’t know what I want,” I admit. “I feel like, lately, I don’t know anything.”
“Maybe you needed this slow-down,” Norah suggests, a tender hand rubbing at my shoulder. “Maybe…not having a plan or a direction or a job or drive…maybe that’s what you needed. You know?”
I scoff. “Yeah. And it got me pregnant with a freaking sheep farmer’s baby.”
“What?” Josie shrieks. “Farmer Tad? Hot-to-trot freaking Farmer-ass Tad is the father?”
I laugh, but it doesn’t feel all that humorous. I shrug. I sigh. “He’s… Well, he’s been great. And we were just…having some fun,” I skirt around the truth of how much time I’ve been spending with Tad and how intense at times it’s been between us.
Truthfully, fun has always been a part of it, but there’s been something more intense there. Something that’s far more intimate than two people just hooking up for funsies. Something that’s been making you feel things. Deep, deep things.
Josie and Norah watch me closely, and I’m sure it has everything to do with the nosedive my mood is taking. Or the fact that tears are threatening to flood my eyes again.
I sniffle, swallow hard, and keep the emotion at bay. “I fear that the news of a baby is going to go over about like a bag of rocks.”
How am I supposed to tell Tad that I’m pregnant? A baby isn’t exactly within the realm of casual we had originally agreed to.
“Are you sure about that, Breeze?” Josie asks.
“I mean, I know he’s never been much for serious, but we call the man hot for a reason.
And he’s very nice. I can’t imagine him being…
I don’t know, scummy? Like, it’ll be a shock.
Just like it is to you. But finding out you’re having a baby is always a shock, isn’t it?
” Her voice lulls me into a weirdly peaceful space.
It’s so…ethereal. Happy. Hopeful. “Even if it’s the thing you’ve always wanted most in the entire world. ”
Norah nods. “Of course. Another human? Made by you? It’s one of those ‘too big to be true’ things, but you’re way more prepared than you ever think you are because you have to be. And when you have to be, you just figure things out.”
Yeah.
When you have to figure things out, you do. It’s always but always been true for me, even when I’ve hated it. I am a woman who survives. A woman who thrives, whether the world helps her or not.
I have no choice but to handle this like I’ve always handled everything else.
Head on. Take charge.
I sure hope Tad sees it the same way.