Five weeks later

---

“There are so many options,” I said, smiling at the hopeful couple who sat on the sofa in front of me. “In vitro fertilization is just one of them, so I don’t want you to pin all your hopes on that.”

Greg, dark-haired and a little overweight, with a great big beard, exchanged a glance with Milly, his wife, who was tiny by comparison and had a sweet, squeaky voice which reminded me a little of Luna’s. They squeezed hands and faced me again. “We’ve been through a lot to get here,” Milly said. “We just wanted to know that we have a chance.”

“Of course you do,” I replied and tamped down on the sorrow creeping up my throat. “Thank you for coming in today, guys.” I smiled at them, then rose from my seat, powder-pink to match the décor in the consultation room. “I’ll have a diagnosis for you once that bloodwork comes back, and then we’ll discuss all the options available to you.”

The couple rose too, still holding hands. “We just want a baby,” Greg said. “Any news from you will be good news.”

“We hope,” Milly giggled.

“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll be in touch.” I walked them to the door of the consultation room, then opened it and showed them out into the quaint lobby of the fertility clinic. Sweet pictures decorated the walls, Anne Geddes paintings, and a bubbling coffee pot in the corner, next to a lime-and-lemon-slice-filled water jug.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Gray,” Milly said. “You’ve already been a huge help.”

“Anything I can do to make the process easier from my side, I will do. That I promise you.” And with that, they were gone, and the nausea returned.

I managed to control it during consultations, but the minute I was alone, it rushed back. I’d spent the past week on the verge of throwing up, and I was so over it. Maybe it’s just a symptom of the new job.

The fertility clinic was a boon—a private practice and an interview I’d gotten all on my own this time, thank you very much—but it was still stressful, being on my own again. We’d officially moved back into Luna’s apartment now that the water damage had been repaired, and I was done at St. Katherine’s, but I still thought about Noah almost every single day.

That month after my resignation had been hellish. I’d avoided him, ignored his calls, and hoped he’d get the picture, but he hadn’t. He’d walked me to my car in silence every single night. And now, he was gone. Or rather, I was gone, working somewhere else and free, except it didn’t feel very exciting or fulfilling without him around.

“Silly,” I muttered and clicked my tongue, clicking the consultation room’s door closed and heading down the hall toward my office. I didn’t have another appointment for the rest of the afternoon, which meant I could catch up on some clerical work and try, but fail, to ignore the bubbling in my stomach.

I reached my office, walked around to my desk, and lowered myself into it, shaking my head.

It had to be stress. Had to be.

My desk phone rang and I picked up the receiver, pressed it to my ear. “Dr. Gray’s office,” I said. “This is Dr. Gray.”

“What a way to answer the phone,” Luna said, down the line. “How are you today, gorgeous? Still feeling ill?”

“As sick as a dog,” I said. “I’m thinking of going to see my GP. I figure getting a vitamin B injection will alleviate the stress, you know? No stress, no nausea.”

“Hmmm.”

“What?” I asked.

“How much longer are you going to be at work?”

“Not much longer,” I replied, “maybe a half an hour or so, why?”

“Because I’ve got something waiting for you at home, and I need you to come see it, right now.”

“Oh god, what is it?” The last time Luna has said that, she’d sprang a surprise painting on me. A horrific picture which depicted scenes of medieval torture. She’d been so impressed with herself too and made a big deal out of the brush strokes while talking about Impressionism.

“It’s not a painting. Listen, I’ll be home in fifteen. Meet me there, OK? It’s important.” She hung up without another word and I frowned at my phone. Luna hardly ever acted mysteriously, unless it was to give me a fright before bed.

She was big on giving scares—firmly believed it strengthened the heart.

I sighed and placed the phone in its cradle, then stared at it. Noah couldn’t call me here, simply because he didn’t have my number, and that should’ve been a comfort to me. Instead, it made me sad. I was raw inside after everything that’d happened. Cautious too.

“Fuck it,” I muttered and shut off my PC.

Twenty minutes later, I entered our apartment and shut the door behind myself, inhaling the scent of vanilla incense. This was Luna’s calming ritual after a long day at work. I entered the living room and found her sitting with a glass of wine in hand, one leg crossed over the other.

“All right,” I said. “Where is it? Where’s the tableau of violence and despair?”

“Very funny,” Luna replied, then nodded to the coffee table. “There it is.”

I followed her line of sight. My stomach clenched tight. “Luna?” There was a pregnancy test sitting in the middle of the table, still firmly wrapped up. “Luna, what the hell?”

“Trust me on this one,” she said.

“Is this some kind of joke?” I asked. “Why would you do this? You know I can’t have babies. You know—”

“Oh, give it a rest.” Luna waved away my heartfelt protest, then got up and grabbed the pregnancy test. She foisted it into my hands and my fingers fumbled over the plastic.

“Luna!”

“Erika, when’s the last time you had your period?” she asked.

And I blinked, the anger fading from my system fast. Shoot, I hadn’t bothered counting. To be honest, the minute I’d found out I had a practically zero percent chance of having a baby with Jason, I’d quit counting. It had to have been a couple weeks ago, right?

But wait, no, I hadn’t had a period in… Not since—my eyes widened. “Impossible,” I said. “That’s impossible.”

“Are you on the pill?” Luna asked.

“No, I’m not. But that doesn’t matter. I was diagnosed. I was—”

“And how often do miracles happen when it comes to babies?” Luna asked. “Pretty often I wager. Besides, have you seen Noah’s jawline? The man is clearly brimming with testosterone. I bet he has bionic swimmers.”

My heart thumped against the inside of my ribcage like a drummer on drugs. Holy fucking shit. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be. Oh please, let it be real.

I welled up.

If it were true, if I was pregnant by some absolute miracle, I’d of course keep the baby. This had been my dream, to be a mother. I couldn’t even think of what it meant for Noah, right now.

“Erika?” Luna poked my arm. “Are you still breathing?”

“Huh? Yes,” I whispered. “Oh my god.”

“Tell me about it. So, do you feel like peeing on a stick this evening?” Luna asked and checked her watch. “Because if you’re pregnant, I want to drink, and I bought nonalcoholic for you. And if you’re not, well there’s some hardtack in the fridge and pizza on my speed dial.”

I dragged my best friend into a hug, squeezing her so tight, she squeaked. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Hurry up, goddammit. I’ve been freaking out about this all week.”

I wobbled my way to the bathroom, unwrapping the test and reading the instructions thoroughly, even though I’d taken what’d felt like a hundred of these things when I’d dated Jason. I entered the bathroom, shut the door, and gave myself a wide-eyed stare in the mirror over the sink.

“Oh my god,” I muttered.

I did my business. I peed on the stick. I capped it, washed up, and watched it calculating out of the corner of my eye.

Luna bashed her fist on the bathroom door. “Are you seriously going to wait it out in there alone? Get your ass out here, Erika Gray, before I drag you out.”

I managed a laugh, which sounded more like an exhalation, and made my way out, gripping the test in my hand, covering the window with my fingers.

“How much longer?” Luna asked, and slurped down some wine.

“A minute,” I said.

We made a silent procession through to the living room and sat down on the sofa side by side. I placed the test on the coffee table, despite Luna’s protest at getting pee everywhere, and shut my eyes.

What if I was pregnant? What would I say to Noah? How would I even broach the topic after I’d spent the past four or five weeks ignoring him flat? “Oh hey, sorry I never called you after my brother interrupted our last night together. By the way, I’m pregnant with your unborn child. How’s work?”

I giggled hysterically at the thought.

“Are you OK?” Luna asked.

“Not really,” I said, and peeked through my fingers at the test. “I think it’s time.” I picked up the stick and studied the result, emotion clogging my throat, tears spilling down my cheeks now. I sniveled and wiped my nose on the back of my hand—très attractive.

“Well?” Luna asked. “Well?”

“It’s positive,” I said. “I’m pregnant.”