Page 72 of Made for Wilde
I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. “I thought that might be what he wanted to tell you.”
“You knew?”
“He mentioned something about seeing someone when we had drinks at the Summit.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?” There’s no anger in her voice, just surprise.
“Wasn’t my news to share.” I reach for her hand and rub my thumb across her knuckles. “He wanted to tell you himself.”
Charlotte considers this for a moment. “I guess that’s fair. I’m glad he has someone. He deserves to be happy.”
“So do you.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
Her face softens, but there’s still something different about her expression. Something I can’t quite place. She seems almost giddy. Like she’s barely containing herself.
“What’s going on with you?” I study her face and try to read what’s beneath the surface. “You’re acting weird.”
Charlotte’s smile grows more pronounced. “Weird?”
“Not bad weird. But something’s up.” I gesture toward her fidgeting hands. “What is it?”
Charlotte takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then releases it slowly. “I have something for you.”
She reaches behind one of the couch cushions and pulls out a small gift bag with tissue paper sprouting from the top.
“What’s this for?” I ask as she hands it to me.
“Just open it.”
Suddenly, I feel strangely nervous.
I pull back the tissue paper and dig around until my fingers brush against something plastic. I take it out and turn it over in my palm to examine it.
A pregnancy test.
My brain stalls, unable to process what I’m seeing. The two pink lines are clearly visible in the little window.
My entire body freezes. Blood rushes in my ears and drowns out everything except the thundering of my heart.
Two lines.
That means positive, right?
I look up and meet Charlotte’s gaze.
“Baby, are you pregnant?” I whisper.
She beams. “Yep. I just found out today.”
A dam I didn’t know existed until this moment breaks open inside my chest. Emotions flood through me, overwhelming and raw. The room blurs completely as tears fill my eyes.
Charlotte’s voice wavers with uncertainty. “Koda?”
I try to speak, but a sob escapes instead.
I haven’t cried in years. Not since the night I locked the nursery door with all my broken dreams inside. But these tears are different. They burn hot tracks down my face and release something I’ve carried for so long I’d forgotten its weight.
“Koda, please say something.” Charlotte slides from the coffee table to kneel in front of me. “Are you mad?”
