The pilot’s voice over the intercom wakes me up. I jerk in the hard seat and open my eyes before lifting the shade over the window next to me. It’s midday in Nice, France, the second stop on my connecting flight. Next up is the thirty-minute train ride to Monte Carlo.

Groggily, I rub the sleep out of my eyes. True to my word, I ended up spending the night in the airport. I could have gone to Willow’s, but I didn’t want to risk her parents seeing me emotional and wanting to know what was wrong.

Plus, I just wanted some time to myself. My heart was broken yesterday, and I needed to wallow in the pain, for at least a little while.

When I went into the kitchen yesterday, I wanted to tell my parents the truth about what was going on. I really did. But there was a reason why I knew I couldn’t, and they’d confirmed my fears by the time I’d only said a few words.

My bones aching, I haul myself off the plane and somehow make it to the train station. Though my parents took me to Paris once in middle school, Nice is a new world to me. I should be enjoying the sights and sounds, and feeling thrilled about a train ride to one of the most exciting cities in the world.

But of course, I’m not.

Once on the train, I try my phone again, just for good measure. The miracle I’m waiting for doesn’t happen. The device remains dead. Dropping my head back against the headrest, I close my eyes. My temples pound with a headache. Did I pack any sort of pain medication in my toiletry bag? What pain meds are even safe to take when you’re pregnant?

There’s so much I still don’t know about what’s happening to me, and no time at all to educate myself. My eyes still closed, I press my hands against my stomach. Somewhere in there, a little person is forming.

Please God, let me have my life together by the time this baby comes out.

“Mommy, look! Look!”

I open my eyes at the little kid’s excited cries. It’s a boy, no older than five or six, and he stands pressed against the window across from me.

“It’s a horse-cow!” he shouts, pointing at a black and white horse in the field the train is passing by.

His mom rubs his back. “Yeah, it is. Remember to use your inside voice, honey.”

He giggles. “I know.”

“I know you’re excited.” She smiles and kisses the top of his head.

I wrap my fingers a little more protectively around my stomach. Was there a time when I was as excited as the little boy in front of me? A time when the world was a marvelous, thrilling place, and my parents were the key holders to all of its adventures and secrets?

There must have been. The real question is, when did things change between us? When did they become the enemy?

I try to sleep the rest of the way to Monte Carlo, but luck is still not with me in that department. I exit the train station jet-lagged and exhausted, a lump of fear sitting in my chest like a stone.

At least I know where Jay’s tournament is taking place, and the driver of the taxi I flag down takes me there without hesitation.

It’s déjà vu walking into the casino. It’s smaller than the one in Macau, but it feels familiar, nonetheless. Yet, it’s not homey. It’s sad and lonely.

I scan the main area for Jay, but catch no sign of him. Deflated, I take a seat on one of the upholstered benches along the wall. I can’t let my fatigue get to me. The tournament is about to start, and I have to find Jay.

But, first, there’s something else I need to do. The idea has been stewing in my head ever since I saw the little boy on the train, and now it’s time to take action.

After asking for some help, an employee directs me to a little area down the hall where there are pay phones. I dial my dad’s cellphone number before I can second-guess myself.

I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight between Jay and me. He might not even be happy to see me, which means he’s also definitely not going to be happy to hear that I’m pregnant. If that’s the case, then I’m going to need my parents more than ever.

It doesn’t matter that we disagree on some things. They’re family—two of the few people I know will always be there for me. Snubbing them now, just because they’ve hurt my feelings, would be ridiculous.

I hold the receiver tight and pray that my dad will pick up, even though he won’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

I nearly fall to the floor in relief. “Dad! It’s me!”

“Lauren! Thank God. Are you in Monte Carlo?”

“Yeah, I’m at the big casino here.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“I’m not going to, Dad,” I say quietly.

If he thinks I’m going to call him and then just hang up, he must believe I’m really, really mad at him. Like, unforgivably mad. Then, I remember how angry I was when I left the apartment in New York. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and stomped on.

Some hours away from the drama has done me good, and I realize that I need my parents. That’s just the honest truth, and I can’t deny it any longer.

“Your mother is here. I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

There’s a rustling and then my mother’s voice comes across the line.

“Lauren, honey, your father and I are so sorry.”

“We are,” my dad adds, an uncharacteristic softness in his voice.

My heart melts instantly. I feel the tears prick at my eyes, and I blink them away.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, too.”

“Whatever you’re doing in Monte Carlo,” Dad says, “just be careful. All right? That’s all that we’re asking of you.”

“I will. I promise.” I take a deep breath. I’m going to have to give them my big news sooner or later, and doing it during a calm conversation like this one is the best time. “There’s something I want to tell you guys. It’s part of the reason I needed to come to Monte Carlo.”

There’s a long silence.

“We’re listening,” my mom encourages me.

I swallow hard. Even though my parents are being nice, and I’m a grown woman, dropping this kind of news is still hard.

So, I just go for it.

“I’m pregnant. Jay, the guy I met in Macau, is the father. I had to come here to tell him in person.”

With the confession out, I feel like I’ve had a week-long fever that’s just broken. I almost don’t even care what my parents are going to say. I’ve told them the truth, and that’s what matters the most.

Still, the silence that follows my announcement is painful.

Mom speaks first. “That’s big news, sweetie. I know it was probably hard to tell us.”

There’s a pause, and I get the sense that they’re silently communicating with each other. Perhaps my mom is telling my dad to be nice.

“Yes,” Dad chimes in. “It is big news.”

“It all makes sense now,” Mom says. “I could tell that you were under a lot of stress.”

“I’m doing okay, Mom.” My voice cracks on the last part of the sentence. I’m sure everyone involved in this conversation knows that I’m not ‘okay’ at all.

It’s Dad who responds. “Lauren, no matter what you decide to do, we’re here for you.”

My throat grows tight, and the first tears in a long time that aren’t from anger or pain fill my eyes. I’ve cried so much in the last twenty-four hours I would have assumed my tear ducts have dried out, but apparently they’re still functioning fine.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Have you told Jay?” Mom tentatively asks.

“Not yet,” I say. “But I’m looking for him.”

Dad exhales loudly. “Christ, Lauren. I’m so sorry about your phone.”

I sniff and blink away the last of my crying spell. “It’s okay, Dad. We both got pretty angry.”

“Lauren.” It’s Mom again. “Whatever he says to you, just know that we think you’re amazing, and your baby is going to be amazing, too. Don’t let him, or anyone else, get you down.”

It might be the sweetest thing my mother has ever said to me. It doesn’t matter if it’s a preemptive stab aimed at Jay. She’s letting me know that she has my back. For the first time in a long time, I’m truly grateful to my parents.

“Call us later,” Dad says. “And let us know how it went.”

I nod even though they can’t see me. “I will. Thanks.”

We say our goodbyes and I hang up my phone. That’s two down, one to go.

And now, I’m actually looking forward to seeing Jay and telling him the news. I worked myself up when it came to my parents, thinking that they would be angry with me, that they would reject me…but they were exactly the opposite. So, maybe I’m worrying too much about Jay, as well.

With a lightness in my heart, I wheel my suitcase to the ladies’ room. There, I splash my face with cold water and braid my hair. The conversation with my parents has turned a new page. I now have this deep sense that everything is going to be all right.

Granted, I have no idea what’s going to happen when I do find Jay. I just know that after I tell him, I’ll have to deal with things in the best way that I can.

“Everything will be fine,” I whisper into the mirror.

I hope the baby hears me, even though she or he can’t understand me. I hope they can feel the absolute certainty in my promise.