I sat on the sofa and sniffled, clutching the pregnancy test in my hand.

I should have paid attention to the little signs over the past few weeks. Like my sense of smell, so sensitive that the day before, I hadn’t smelled beef stew. Instead, I’d inhaled the scents of carrots and beef broth and celery individually. Or the way my breasts felt heavy almost every day. And come to think of it, I’d been snappy lately with Rafa. Maybe that had something to do with hormones.

Suddenly, Rafa burst through the door, bellowing. “What? What’s wrong? Why were you crying on the phone? Why wouldn’t you tell me what’s wrong? I was losing my fucking mind while driving.”

Looking at him through my tears, I handed the pregnancy test stick to him. He took it, and his black brows scrunched together.

“What is this plus sign…” His voice trailed off, and he sank next to me on the sofa. “How? How could you be pregnant? You’re on the pill.”

I cried harder. Why wouldn’t he hug me? Words tumbled out of my mouth. “I think I forgot to take my pills last month and I doubled up a couple of times and I’m sorry.”

Rafa shut his eyes and was still. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t touched me. In that moment, he was like a stranger and that made me wail harder.

“Hey, hey…” Rafa turned and put his arms around me. “What do you want to do?”

I shook my head. I wanted to do everything and nothing. I wanted a career and I wanted his baby and I was only twenty-three. I had two part-time jobs—one at a bookstore and another at an alternative weekly where the reporters smoked weed in the parking lot.

Rafa was just starting to make money as a realtor. We seemed to be exhausted, a lot. A baby would complicate everything. Our lives weren’t supposed to be like this. Not yet.

“I want our baby.” He pulled back and stared at me with big eyes, wiping the wetness off my cheeks with his thumbs. “Our baby.”

His eyes were wide with fear and the unknown, probably just like mine were.

“I do, too, Rafa.”

A week later, I couldn’t stop bleeding. Or stop crying. The doctor said it would last a week to ten days.

The baby was gone. Our baby was gone.

The doctor said it happened to a lot of women, even young, healthy women like me, and that I’d more than likely have a full-term and normal pregnancy the next time. 

Would there be a next time? I wasn't sure. Rafa wasn't talking. He'd become sullen, it seemed, ever since I'd told him about the baby. More serious. And now that I'd lost the baby, I could've sworn I detected relief in him. Or was I imagining things? My body and mind couldn't be trusted. 

I blamed everything: how Rafa and I had been rough in bed during sex, how poorly I’d eaten, how little I’d exercised over the past few months.

In my mind, I was defective. For our baby and for Rafa. I was too afraid to tell him this, because he was already so sullen. So instead I huddled in bed for days and tried to wrap myself in sadness like a heavy jacket. 

It went on like this for days. We hadn't had sex because the doctor said we should wait, and that forced us apart, making me wonder whether sex was all we had in common. 

One morning, Rafael walked into the bedroom and threw open the curtains, revealing the harsh Florida sun. I saw the palm tree outside our bedroom window, and its green color against the bright blue sky startled me. How could everything be so vibrant when I felt dingy and gray inside?

“Mi cielo. I’ve made breakfast. Your favorite eggs. I’ll bring them to you.” His voice was gentle, but I was angry that he had let the light in.

“Amor.” He sat on the edge of our bed. “You need to get up. You need to be strong and put this behind you. We can try to have another baby. The doctor said you’re fine. Things happen for a reason. Maybe now wasn’t our time? Let’s get back to work and back to normal, and then we’ll plan for the future. We’re young, we’ve got lots of time.”

I burrowed under the covers and counted, willing him to hug me before I got to the number ten. He didn’t, and I felt the futon creak as he stood up.

“Babe, I have to get to work now. Are you going to get up today?”

How could he be so insensitive? I thought back to how kind he’d been when I’d told him about my mom and brother. Where was the man who used to embrace the girl with the shattered heart and fractured family?

Flipping the covers down, I caught him staring at me with big eyes, and the expression was familiar. I’d gotten acquainted with it after my mom and brother were killed.

Pity.

I burrowed into the bed and told Rafa to close the drapes.

* * *

I don’t know which is harder: looking my employees in the eyes during meetings, knowing that I’m close to making a decision that will affect their futures, or holding Diana’s newborn in my arms.

Two days after we return from our Valentine’s Day trip to the islands, Diana gives birth to a healthy, eight-pound baby girl that she names Olivia.

Rafa and I rush to the hospital, and Diana laughs when we walk in, hand in hand. “Looks like that Caribbean sunshine worked its magic. You two are getting along well,” Diana whispers to me, offering me the baby.

I swallow a lump in my throat. I always get choked up when holding a baby because I remember how much I’d wanted Rafael’s.

But I have another reason for not wanting to open my mouth. I don’t want Diana to know I’m considering closing the paper. It will leave her without a job and without health insurance right after giving birth.

How can I take jobs away from any of my employees?

How can I leave my city without a voice?

How important is my family’s legacy?

And for what? So I can go live in luxury in a glass-and-concrete condo on South Beach?

I push the thoughts aside, gently cradling the little girl in my arms, swaying a little and reveling in the milky, new-baby smell. Rafa leans toward us, and I’m surprised to see how light Rafa’s touch is when he strokes the baby’s head with his palm.

“She’s gorgeous,” Rafa whispers, more to me than to Diana. “Someday soon, you and I…”

My eyes meet Rafa’s, wide with panic and hope. My heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“Can I hold her?” he asks.

He opens his palms wide and hugs Olivia into his chest.

“I’ve never held a baby before.” He beams at me and Diana. I force myself to turn away because I’m on the verge of sobbing.

He would have held our baby had the baby lived. Had my body not failed. We wouldn’t be here right now, facing this problem with the paper. My mind spirals out of control, irrational. I could soon have everything I’d ever wanted. Almost.

Diana interrupts my thoughts. “I have to say, Rafael, you look like a natural, as if you’ve held babies all your life. I’m surprised.”

It’s true. He is a natural, cradling Olivia’s little head in his big hand.

And yet the sight of him with a child in his arms doesn’t make my decision about the newspaper any easier, and it doesn’t make me feel any better about the choice I have to make before he leaves for a month to Spain. I’m dreading the next few days. We have that gala to attend in Miami, and it’s the last thing I want to do.

“Excuse me,” I whisper to Diana and Rafael. “I need to use the bathroom, and I’ll…um, use the one in the hall.”

I practically run out of Diana’s room and barely make it to the bathroom before the tears pour down my cheeks.