CHAPTER 22
Charlotte
Feeling reprimanded, I feign a nap to get Elle out of my house. Her accusatory tone was a trigger for me, and it placed me smack dab in my past, with Jonathan.
I’d sent her upstairs to avoid her spotting the pregnancy test and prevent any further comments or questions. Noah deserves to be the first one to hear the news, and he’ll be home later this evening.
Plus, Elle doesn’t have a right to know about this until we’re ready to tell people. After all, she has her own secrets, and I’m entitled to mine.
With an overabundance of caution, I take a second test just to be absolutely positive.
While I wait, I absentmindedly grab the opened box off the counter. I’ll just read the directions while I wait to ensure I’m doing everything perfectly right.
As if you haven’t done this before, my snarky voice intones.
Except . . . I just took a second test, but there are supposed to be three in the box.
I shake it, but nothing but the white page of instructions falls out.
Mistake at the factory?
No . . . too much of a coincidence.
Elle hasn’t been feeling well. She’s had fatigue, shadows underneath her eyes, and nausea, and her body’s been hidden underneath baggy clothing most of the time.
Yes, but she’s a teenager, I remind myself.
But still . . . when I approached Elle earlier, she seemed stunned, as if she had just heard unexpected news. And she did take an awfully long time upstairs.
Did she leave any evidence? I wonder.
I take the stairs two at a time and fling open the bathroom door. Everything looks the same as it did this morning except for the trash can, which is filled up with tissue and a toothpaste carton that is no longer empty. Inside the cardboard, I notice the tip of a pregnancy test sticking out. I ignore the fact that I’m touching someone else’s potential good news. As I squint at the small digital screen, I understand now why she’s been snappish and scared. You can’t mistake a positive plus sign.
Sinking onto the toilet, I instantly feel for her, especially to be in high school and pregnant. That was when I had my first miscarriage, and to be that young and alone—it’s not ideal.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear the tremor of the garage door shaking the house.
“Babe?” I hear Noah yell from downstairs. “You good with the Beemer parked in the right-hand stall? A storm’s coming, and I don’t want to have to worry about taking it to the car wash again.”
“Sure.” I stride to the door and peek over the open railing. “Hello to you too,” I tease, making my way down the staircase.
“Oh, and I can’t forget this.” He leans forward to kiss me, his hands caressing both sides of my cheeks. I snuggle into him for a moment, then step back as he gives me a questioning gaze.
“You’re glowing, Char. You want to tell me what’s making you this happy?”
“You.” I grin facetiously.
“I can’t wait to hear how.” He gives my cheek a gentle tug before he disappears. I watch him through the side door as he pops the trunk and pulls his suitcase out.
Batting my lashes at him, I lower my voice. “Do I get you for the night?”
“Yes, you do.”
“Good, because no other answer will do.”
He leaves his suitcase by the door, winks, and carries me directly to the bedroom. After we finish making love, I untangle myself from his arms. Shyly, I say, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab us something to drink.”
“Char, will you please bring me a water? You got me thirsty,” he chuckles as I emerge from the bathroom in a silky robe. Whistling, he gloats, “And it looks like round two is about to begin.”
When I reenter the bedroom, I have two bottles—one of Moët, one of sparkling apple cider—next to two champagne flutes. Raising his brows, Noah slaps the satin sheets I vacated beside him. “Wow, this must be quite an evening. What did I do to deserve bubbly?”
“You’ll find out.”
I hand him the champagne bottle to uncork, and he pops it with a flourish. He pours both flutes and hands an overflowing one to me.
“I can’t.” I point to the sparking apple cider. “I’m drinking this.”
“Are you not feeling well?” Noah playfully puts a hand on my forehead. “Is this a new resolution? No alcohol during the week?”
I give him a mischievous smile, pulling my positive test from behind my back.
“What’s this?” he asks as I hand it to him.
“The reason for my happiness, for our happiness. I’d like to propose a toast.”
Noah looks startled as I continue. “Here’s to happiness and health, and the arrival of our little bundle of joy. I can’t wait to start this new chapter in our lives, and I’m confident that this time it will be right, since timing is everything.”
“You’re pregnant?” Noah looks stunned, his hands tight around the champagne flute.
“I am.” I sink down beside him and drape my legs over his body. “Are you okay?”
He closes his eyes for a minute, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m . . . shocked, Char.”
Dejectedly, I moan, “Oh God, I’m sorry, this isn’t what you want right now, is it?”
“Char.” He sets both our flutes on the side table. “This is just coming at a crazy time. In fact, I came home to tell you about a promotion I got—”
“What?” I shout. “That’s wonderful. Now we have two things to celebrate.”
“But it’s not like that.” He touches my arm gently. “Look at me.”
I gaze into his hazel eyes, shiny with tears. “They want me to take on a project in Tokyo.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “An international trip is doable right now.”
“It’s at least six months.”
“What?” My face crumples. “What’re you saying?” I move my hands to my ears, trembling at the idea of Noah gone, not just domestically, but abroad.
“You’re leaving me?” I sit straight up, slamming my back into the headboard.
“No, it’s not set in stone.” Noah laces his fingers through mine. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to be callous. This is a shock, and if I’m honest, this is a huge bomb you dropped on me. I need a minute.”
“If it’s about the past, we can’t let it dictate us anymore.” I then say confidently, “It’s not going to happen again.”
“I know.” He slowly nods his head. “But you can’t blame me for being scared. That was traumatic, and I don’t want to minimize how it was for you, but it screwed me up, Char.”
“I know.” I squeeze his hand tight, his palm sweaty to the touch.
He takes the flimsy plastic wand from me and stares hard at the plus sign. “This is a miracle, baby.” Taking my arm, he pulls me close against his chest, cradling me in his arms.
I must’ve fallen asleep in this position, because the next thing I know, I feel an emptiness beside me in the bed, the satin sheets cold to the touch. Noah’s body heat is absent.
The water’s running in the shower, and I sniff fresh coffee brewing. It doesn’t have the same negative effect on my sensory neurons as it did last time. Relieved I can tolerate the smell, I pour Noah a cup and knock on the bathroom door.