But he’s stressed and frustrated that he’s not healing at a miraculous pace, despite everyone cautioning him to be patient and do the work and he’ll come back at the top of his game.
Adding a baby on top of all this?
If I’m freaking out, is he going to freak out?
Is he going to be happy? More stressed? Worried?
I’m worried. I’ve spent way too much time on the internet the last couple of days reading horror stories about pregnancy and birth and far too few positive stories.
Apparently I’m going to get super fat, be covered in stretch marks from armpits to knees, fart like a bodybuilder mainlining protein powder, shit myself in front of an audience, and lose all my hair after the baby’s born.
Who signs up for this on purpose?
Because I definitely wouldn’t.
But here I am. Pregnant. Freaking out about my parents’ reaction.
And for what?
Abby’s right. Hearing her spell it out like that has been surprisingly calming. She didn’t tell me anything I don’t already know, but it helped to hear it from her.
And when she said I was part of her family, even if we aren’t really related …
That was a balm I didn’t know I needed. Suddenly instead of envisioning my parents’ horror and anger at me getting pregnant out of wedlock—because apparently it’s still 1955—I started imagining Abby and Lance playing with my baby, buying presents for their birthday, maybe one day having a kid too and our kids playing together when we see each other.
Plus Chris’s parents will be over the moon when they find out they’re going to be grandparents.
I have people. I have family.
I just had a panic moment where I forgot that.
Coming here and telling Abby is definitely the best decision I could’ve made right now. She’s right that I need to tell Chris soon. And I will.
But for now I need a movie night with my best friend. Comfort and laughter and the reminder that everything will be alright.
I settle on the couch with the remote, browsing through the available streaming services and pick Clueless, the 90’s feel-good classic.
Abby brings in a bowl of popcorn and chuckles at my choice as she takes the seat next to me. “It’s been ages since we last watched this one.”
“Right? But it was our go-to choice in high school whenever one of us needed cheering up. So I thought it was appropriate.”
With a look full of sympathy and commiseration, Abby hands me a gray fleece throw blanket from the basket at the end of the couch. I wrap it around me, relishing the tactile comfort, and reach for the popcorn as the movie starts. We won’t have time to finish it before Lance gets home, but that’s not important. What’s important is the simple comfort of a movie, popcorn, and a blanket with Abby. Reminders that even while everything around me seems to be changing, I can always count on certain things. Certain people. Abby. Chris. Lance.
“Don’t tell Lance,” I murmur as I grab another handful of popcorn. I’m aware of Abby’s eyes on me, but I keep mine glued to the screen.
“You know I wouldn’t,” she replies quietly. “Not until you tell Chris, at least. I won’t breathe a word to anyone until you give me the go-ahead.”
Another knot of tension in my chest relaxes. I didn’t really think she’d spill the beans. Not on purpose. But her reassurance helps.
We quote our favorite lines along with the characters, laughing and giggling, and reminiscing about all the times we’ve watched this movie together before. We’re not quite halfway through when the front door opens, and Lance strides in.
Like Chris, he has that magnetic energy that livens up any room he’s in. All eyes are drawn to him, no matter where he is or who he’s with.
Abby’s face lights up, and she pauses the movie as she stands and welcomes him home with a kiss.
Years later and they’re still as in love as ever. Watching them sends a pang of longing through me. I miss Chris. Sure, I only said goodbye to him this morning, and I’ll see him again in just a few days. But I wish he were here anyway. Pulling out my phone, I send him another text—Miss you—a follow up to the one letting him know I’d arrived safely. He’s still in his PT session, so he hasn’t responded yet. He’ll call as soon as he has a few minutes.
And now that I’ve told Abby and spilled all my fears, I wish I’d told Chris about the pregnancy already. I’m tempted to just blurt it out as soon as he calls, but I want to see his face. And not on a video chat. In person. So as much as I’m dying to tell him now, I’m going to force myself to wait.
Ugh. Patience has never been my strong suit. I guess this is good practice, though. Because babies require bucket loads of patience, right? Even more so when they’re kids?
And just like that, another shard of icy panic stabs into my heart. How the hell am I going to handle being a mother?
CHAPTER THREE
Matt
“You about ready, Han?” I call from the living room.
Hannah’s in the kitchen, finishing up with the dessert she insisted on bringing over to Lance and Abby’s tonight.
“Almost!” she calls back, then she appears a moment later, carrying a glass pan wrapped in a towel, her face flushed from the heat of the oven. She gives me a wide smile and steps closer, angling her body so she can kiss me without bumping me with the hot pan. “Don’t be nervous,”
