Page 62 of Maybe in Another Life

I wonder if I’ll be a single mom forever. If Ethan will ever talk to me again. If my parents will come meet my kid or if I’ll have to fly internationally with a baby on holidays.

And then I wonder what Gabby will say. I imagine her telling me it will all be OK. I imagine her telling me this baby was meant to be. I imagine her telling me that I’m going to be a great mother.

And then I wonder if that’s true. If I will be.

And then... finally... I wonder about my baby.

And the realization hits me.

I’m going to have a baby.

I find myself smiling just the tiniest bit through my heavy, fearful tears.

“I’m going to have a baby,” I say to Charlemagne. “I’m going to be a mom.”

This time, she hears me. And while she doesn’t start magically talking, she does stand up, walk over the center console, and sit in my lap.

“It’s you and me,” I say. “And a baby. We can do that, right?”

She curls into my lap and goes to sleep. But I think it speaks volumes that I believe if she could talk, she’d say yes.

It’s early in the morning when I hear a knock on my door. I’m alone in my room. I’ve been up for only a few minutes. My bun is half undone around my shoulders.

Ethan peeks his head in. “Hey,” he says, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” I say. It’s nice seeing him. I may have gotten a bit infatuated with the idea that he and I have something romantic left between us, but I can see now that we don’t. I will probably always love him on some level, always hold a spot for him in my heart. But dating again, being together, that would be moving backward, wouldn’t it? I moved to Los Angeles to put the past behind me, to move into the future. I moved to Los Angeles to change. And that’s what I’m going to do.

But that doesn’t mean that we can’t still mean something to each other, that we can’t be friends.

I pat the side of the bed, inviting him to sit right here next to me.

He does. “How are you feeling?” he asks. He has a bakery box in his hand. I’m hoping I know what it is.

“Is that a cinnamon roll?” I ask him, smiling.

He smiles back and hands it over.

“You remembered,” I say.

“How could I forget?”

“Wow!” I say as I open the box. “This is a huge one.”

“I know,” he says. “I saw them a few years ago at this bakery on the Westside, and I thought of you. I knew you’d love them.”

“This is so exciting! I mean, I’ll have to eat this with a knife and fork.” It’s way too big for me to eat on my own. I resolve to wait and share it with Henry tonight. I hand it back to Ethan. “Can you put it on the table?”

“You don’t want it now?”

I do sort of want it now, but I’d rather wait for Henry. I shake my head.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says. “About how you are feeling.”

I wave him off. “I’m OK. I’m feeling good. There are some ups and downs, but you’ve caught me at an up moment. Word on the street is I get to try out my wheelchair today.” I watch as the look on Ethan’s face changes. I get a glimpse, just for a moment, of how sad it must be to hear me excited about a wheelchair. But I refuse to be brought down about this. This is where I’m at in life. I need a wheelchair.That’s OK.Onward and upward.

Ethan looks off to the side and then down at the floor. He’s looking everywhere but at me.

“What’s up?” I ask. “What’s bothering you?”

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