The only sound was the bow, bow, bow of a heartbeat and the clicking of the doctor’s mouse as she took measurements.
Every second was protracted, unending, the suspense slithering its way through me.
“Well,” the doctor said with a smile, “baby’s looking great. Strong heartbeat, which is a good sign. Looks like we’ve got our due date wrong though. You’re measuring two to three weeks ahead.”
Just like that, my lungs opened up, and I breathed in fire.
Wendy’s eyes widened, but she smiled, laughing casually. “No, that can’t be right. I know when my last period was. I marked it.”
My hand unwound from hers. I took a step back, mind racing.
The doctor chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. There are a lot of reasons it could be off, like when you ovulated, when you conceived. Plus, a lot of the time, we just have the dates wrong. But the good news is, everything’s looking like exactly what we’d expect. You’re almost in the safe zone.”
Shallow sips of air, stoking the emotion stirring in my ribs.
“I don’t have the dates wrong,” Wendy insisted, her voice sure and light. “Are you sure I’m not just measuring ahead?”
Lied. She lied.
The doctor spun on her stool with a ghost of a frown on her lips. “The margin of error on a pregnancy this early on is only about a week. You’re easily two weeks ahead, more like three based on my experience.”
Numb hands. A tingle of disbelief. A satisfying sense of rightness, coupled with overwhelming revulsion.
“You should check again.” Her voice trembled. She hadn’t yet looked at me.
Out. I had to get out. I had to get away.
The doctor’s gaze darted to mine in confusion, her frown fully formed. “I can, but the numbers will be the same.”
“I know when I conceived!” White ringed her eyes.
“You lied,” I breathed.
The doctor’s frown flattened, lips pursed as she stood. “The date that you gave me is not the conception date based on the development of your baby.” She moved around the table, giving us both a knowing look that lingered on me. I saw an apology in her eyes. “Let me give you the room for a few minutes.”
I had backed several feet away from the table, unable to fight, unable to fly. Instead, I froze, staring at her, parsing the truth I’d known in my heart.
“You lied.”
She sat, swinging her legs over the edge of the table, her face wild. “I didn’t. I swear, Luke.”
My head slowly, absently, shook its assent without my telling it to. “It’s always the same. The same line, the same story, but with new, painful ways to hurt me. You came back here to trap me, to lie to me. To take advantage of me because you knew I would help you because I always do. I always do. But this time is different. This time, when I walk away, I’m not coming back.”
Wendy’s face bent, cracked open, and the tears fell. Genuine though they might have been, I had no sympathy.
“Luke, please.”
“Please what?” I shot. “Save you? Take on another responsibility that’s not mine?”
She shook her head. A sob racked through her as she looked at her hands, resting open in her lap.
“I’m not doing this,” I breathed. “I’m not fucking doing it, Wendy. Stay away from me and my family. Stay away from Tess. This is over. Over.”
She jumped at the sting of the word, at the jab of my finger in her direction. I turned on my heel, reaching for the doorknob, overwhelmed by the desire to run as hard and fast and far as I could until I collapsed.
I cursed her, cataloged every betrayal, built a wall with every painful memory, not expecting her to speak, not anticipating the depth of honesty in her words when she did.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she whispered, the words broken.
My hand stilled.
“When I found out, I-I went to Chad. He told me to have an abortion. Dumped me when I refused. Kicked me out. Blocked my number. But I couldn’t. I … I tried, made it to my appointment, and then … I just couldn’t do it, Luke. But I don’t know how to take care of it either, how to provide. I want to give this baby the life I didn’t have. I wanted its parents to love each other, to raise it with love. And I knew you were the only one I could come to. I knew you would take care of me.”
I turned, fuming over her as she took my hand.
Her eyes were on our hands as she traced the lines of my fingers. “I thought you still loved me, thought I could get you back for good this time. This baby should have been yours. I came to you because you are the only man in the world I want to father my child. And I’m sorry I lied to you—” The words died in a sob. “I d-didn’t know what else to do. I love you, Luke. And I f-fucked up. Now … now all I can think about is this baby and how I’m going to take care of it.” She pressed her palm to the flat of her stomach, her head bowed. “I have no job. I have no insurance. I have no means and no support. Only you.”
My anger ebbed, though my jaw was still clamped shut. Because I understood. I hated that I understood, and I hated that I gave a fuck.
But I did.
“I don’t love you,” I said in a tone that brooked no argument.
She nodded at her shoes.
“And I can’t help you. Not anymore.” My heart ached, twisting and tight. “You have to figure this out yourself. And we both need to move on.”
Another nod, a sniffle. “I’m sorry, Luke. I’m so sorry.”
I fought the urge to soothe her, my mind occupied with imaginings of what she’d do on her own. And even now, even after all this.
“I wish you’d come to me and told me the truth. Because I could have helped you without all this. But you’ve gone too far. It’s all gone too far.”
“I thought I could get you back. I … I didn’t know you’d moved on.”
“Wendy,” I said, taking her by the shoulders, waiting for her to meet my eyes. “We will never get back together. Do you understand?”
Sheer and utter sadness touched every angle and plane of her face. “I understand.”
And for the first time, I actually believed she did. But this time, I wouldn’t wait for proof.
Not with my own life to look forward to.
24
A Certain Faith
TESS
“I don’t know how you’ve avoided him,” Ivy said into a bucket of rhododendrons.
“I don’t know either.” And it was both a blessing and a curse. I found I didn’t want him in the zip code just as desperately as I wanted him to walk through those doors, just so I could breathe his air.
I’d spent the last days looking for answers by avoiding all the questions. I wondered if seeing Luke would jar something loose. If he’d walk through the doors and the clouds would break, shining light on him like a saint in a burst of divine intervention. But I had convinced myself that seeing him, talking to him beyond the few cursory texts we’d exchanged, would only confuse things more.
The last thing I needed was more to be confused about.
“Marcus has been keeping him out of the shop, and Mrs. Bennet too. He’s so deep in the doghouse, he’ll be making it up to her for years. But I figured he’d find ways to come see you anyway.”