Page 43 of The Moment You Know

Despite the common belief that you weren’t supposed to think about it as an actual baby until you passed the first trimester—you weren’t supposed to tell people or pick a name out because that’s when most pregnancy failed—Paige hadn’t been able to do that. From the moment she’d seen the positive pregnancy test, she’d been unable to think of it as a clump of cells or a fetus. It had been a baby and when she miscarried at fifteen weeks it had been a baby with a name that had been lost and the loss had been gut-punchingly real. The absence of that life had been real.

It still was. Now, more than ever.

She finished off her glass of wine, hardly even tasting it and was refilling it when Jules called. Paige thought about letting it go to voicemail, but Jules would just keep calling every ten minutes until Paige answered.

“Is it over?” Jules asked when Paige picked up.

“Yep. I’m officially a divorce statistic.”

“How did it go?”

“It was great. Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”

“There you go, deflecting real feelings with humor.”

“As a coping mechanism, it works pretty well,” Paige told her. Then, with one last look at the ultrasound, she put it back in the drawer.

“So what are you doing right now?”

“I just finished walking around my house. I own the whole thing now because David gave it to me.”

“Oh, my God, are you kidding?”

“Nope.”

“That makes it so hard to hate him.”

“Don’t. I mean it.”

Jules sighed. “Sorry. That was shitty.”

“It was. You didn’t see him today.”

Paige heard the telltale beep of another incoming call and looked at her phone screen. “Damn it. My mom’s calling me.”

“Don’t answer it.”

“I’m not. But I’m going to have to talk to her at some point. God knows I don’t want her coming to the house, instead. That would literally be the low point of the day. She never did like David, so I know instead of offering a shoulder to cry on, she’d be telling me how much better off I am without him. And that she was right when she said it wouldn’t last.”

“You don’t need her shoulder. You have mine and mine is better. Speaking of which, I’m going to grab dinner and have my shoulder at your place in two hours—”

“Thanks, but I plan on finishing a bottle of wine by myself for dinner and being passed out in two hours, so let’s make it another night.”

“Paige.”

“Jules.”

Jules sighed again, this time for what seemed like thirty seconds. “I don’t like it. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Jules, I’m not fit company right now. I love you, but I don’t want you here. I don’t want anyone here.”

Jules finally relented, but only after Paige promised to get together with her the next night. After saying goodbye, Paige started in on her second glass of wine and as she was killing it in record speed, her mom called again. This time Paige answered, but only to tell Claire they’d have to talk another time, after which Paige immediately hung up, cutting off any reply. Turning her phone to ‘silent mode’, she then set it on the nightstand, face down for good measure.

Even though it was barely 4 p.m., Paige went into the bathroom and started to draw herself a bath, putting practically every bath product she had in it—bubble bath, bath salts, and a bath bomb. While the tub was filling, she removed her skirt and blouse, uncaring that she ripped the blouse when a button gave her trouble. She crammed the two pieces of clothing into the bathroom’s garbage can without a second thought, then took off her bra and panties.

Glass of wine in hand, she stepped into the tub and sank down into the water, almost disappearing in the mountain of suds she’d created. While the hot water slowly warmed her cold body, she looked at her engagement ring and wedding band on her left hand and began to cry in earnest, with big, fat, silent tears running down her face. She cried until her earlier headache grew into what felt like a migraine and her eyes were burning and gritty.

Then, with deliberation, she went to take the rings off, needing the final break.

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