Page 85 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
I’ve never hated silence so much in my life.
My footsteps echo off the subway-tiled walls as I pace, back and forth, back and forth, like a wind-up toy that’s lost its key.
Each time I pass the marble-topped counter, the pregnancy test seems to stare back at me—pink plastic, impossible—like a tiny time bomb just waiting to go off.
The open foil wrapper lies next to it, crumpled. A half-empty glass of water sweats beside the faucet.
“Stress,” I mutter, rubbing my arms. “It’s stress. Just stress. Or bad Pad Thai. Right—the shrimp tasted weird. Or hormones. Or the fact that I’m juggling three incredible, complicated men and pretending I’m not scared out of my mind every second.” My reflection flickers in the mirror: wide eyes, blotchy cheeks, hair falling out of its clip.
I reach for my phone on the windowsill, nearly drop it with my shaking hands, and jab the screen. No new messages from Ethan, Liam, or Jake. Part relief, part disappointment.
The timer I set because I couldn’t trust myself to watch the clock finally beeps—shrill, urgent—cutting the air in half.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay, okay, okay.”
I turn. One step. Two. My heartbeat is louder than the timer.
The test stares up at me: two red lines, stark and unblinking.
Positive.
A sound escapes my throat—half gasp, half laugh, wholly stunned. The breath rushes out of me like I’ve been punched. My knees buckle, and I clutch the edge of the sink to stay upright.
The lavender candle flickers wildly in my peripheral vision as if it, too, knows this is big.
Pregnant.
The word echoes around the tiled room, ricocheting off the porcelain, bouncing inside my skull.
I press a trembling hand to my stomach. Nothing to feel, not yet, but my palm tingles, imagining that tiny, unseen spark of life.
“I’m pregnant,” I say, voice cracking. “Pregnant.” Saying it aloud makes it solid and undeniable.
Tears flood my eyes—shock first, icy and bright, then fear, then awe so fierce it’s almost painful, and then a tender bloom of joy that scares me even more. I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the cool tile, knees drawn up, heels of my palms pressed to my temples.
How am I supposed to tell them?I picture Ethan’s steady eyes widening, Liam going stone-silent while his brain spins, and Jake blurting out a joke he doesn’t really feel.
What if this breaks us?
Then again, what if it doesn’t? What if this is something they’re excited about? What if it’s just another step in building our unconventional family?
A tiny, terrified smile tugs at my lips even as tears keep sliding down.
I drag in a shaky breath, wipe my cheeks, lift my head. The mirror shows a girl who’s frightened, yes, but also fierce. A girl who’s carried impossible feelings and hasn’t crumbled yet.
“Okay,” I whisper to my reflection. “One step at a time.”
Tell them. Tonight. No more hiding.
I blow out the lavender candle, rinse my face with cool water, and slip the test into a small velvet pouch left over from some jewelry Ethan bought me. Then I stand, legs shaky but holding, and open the bathroom door.
Chapter thirty-five
ETHAN
The neighborhood is quiet. Maya’s street is lined with sleepy trees and sun-bleached fences. A kid’s scooter is tipped over on the sidewalk across the street, and wind chimes from her neighbor’s porch tinkle softly in the breeze.
The sun’s starting to dip low, turning everything the color of honey. It paints golden streaks across the hood of my car and warms the edges of the bottle of wine in the passenger seat.
