“This is a surprise,” Mom said as she opened the front door of our house and stepped back to allow me entry.

“A surprise? Mom, I organized this dinner with you last night.” I moved past her and into the hall. Immediately, a deluge of memories cascaded over me. Visions of my high-school nights, of weekends, of my brother and Noah hanging around the house and making a nuisance of themselves with me.

Mostly of him. Of all the irritation and torture at his hands.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Mom said. “You barely call us anymore.” Her platinum blonde hair, no longer ash and definitely straight out of the bottle, was swept into a neat bun atop her head. Feather-light wrinkles spread from the corners of her eyes, cracks in that “young” facade she maintained so well. Heaven knew what the neighbors would say if she dared age ungracefully.

God, I didn’t want to be like her. She was cynical and thick-skinned, and she always had to get her way. Always.

I ignored my mother’s comment and walked further into the house, drawn in by the scents of cooking. A roast, with potatoes? Rosemary potatoes. Oh man, if I did adopt anything from Mom, it would be the cooking skills.

“Well,” she said, behind me, and shut the door. “I assume there’s a good reason for your visit.”

“Yes,” I replied, “A child always needs a good reason to visit their parents.”

“So it would seem.” She was the queen of passive-aggressive too. She swept past me and into the living room, through it, and into the kitchen. I followed her, inhaling that “home” smell. More memories.

Ugh, get a hold of yourself. You’re not here to think about Noah. Only to debase yourself completely.

I sighed and shrugged off my coat, hanging it over the back of the sofa as I passed. I entered the kitchen and found my father waiting at the table, his wrinkles far more pronounced than my mother’s, including the smile lines around his mouth.

“There you are,” he said and got up, drew me into one of his Dad bear hugs. “So glad you came by. It’s like we don’t have kids anymore. You two are always so busy with your own lives. Your mother and I have been left behind.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, Frank,” Mom said, tut-tutting, though she’d practically mirrored his sentiments earlier. “I’m sure the kids would visit if they had time or reason.”

And I did have reason. I sat down and accepted a mug of hot coffee from Dad, while Mom flitted around checking things. “Food is almost ready,” she said, merrily—happy for the first time since I’d turned up. She was always in her element in the kitchen.

I glugged down the coffee, shoving aside my inhibitions. I’d tried contacting Noah several times, and, short of turning up at St. Katherine’s, I couldn’t get his attention. That would have to come next, if he kept ignoring my calls, but this was important.

This would help get me on my feet. For the baby. For myself. I wasn’t going to rely on Noah for any kind of financial backing. No way, no how. Especially not after what you did. What he did.

“Erika?” My dad prompted.

Christ, I’d totally zoned out thinking about Dr. Cox again. “Hey,” I said, and lifted my head. “I mean, yes. I’m here. Sorry. I’ve got a lot to think about at the moment.”

“You do?” Mom turned and placed the serving dish in the center of the worn oak table. “Like what?”

“Well—um, it’s complicated.” This was nerve-wracking, even though it shouldn’t have been. I was a grown woman. I could do this. A grown woman asking for help from her parents. “As you both know, Jason and I broke up because I couldn’t have a child.”

My mother inhaled, sharply. The fact that I couldn’t conceive frustrated her. “And you came to talk about that?”

“Let her finish,” Dad said, and touched a hand to my mother’s forearm.

“I’m pregnant.” It came out fast, and it silenced both of them.

Dad’s face went slack, Mom’s jaw dropped. There was a flash of shock, and then, of pure joy. A smile broke out across her lips. “Really? Truly? Erika, this had better not be a joke.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s not a joke.”

“That’s wonderful!” My mother erupted and dragged me into a hug. She thumped me on the back. “That’s so amazing. A miracle! It’s a Christmas miracle!”

“Christmas was four weeks ago,” I choked out.

“So? Where’s Jason? When’s the wedding?” Mom asked.

I blinked. Was she kidding? She knew exactly how Jason had behaved and how we’d ended things. That she thought I’d ever go back to him… “He’s not in the picture, of course. This is my baby,” I said and lifted my chin, as my mother stepped back. “I’m doing this on my own.”

Mom fumbled for the back of her chair. She gripped it, lowered herself into it slowly. “What?”

“I’m doing it on my own. And that’s kind of why I’m here. I need help. I have a job and everything, but I need financial support right now.”

Dad still hadn’t spoken, but he considered me now, tilting his chin upward.

“Just enough,” I said, hurriedly, “to put down a deposit on a small home or apartment in a good area, close to the fertility clinic, and for the first few months of rent. I’ll pay you back, with interest. Heck, we can even set up a financial agreement or contract, if you will.” I swallowed. “This baby is a miracle, like you said, Mom, and I’ll do anything to give it the best life possible. The best opportunities possible. I just need a little help.”

“Best opportunities!” Mom threw up her arms. “Best opportunities? You think being a single mother will bring your baby the best opportunities?”

“I have to make do with what I have,” I said, fervently. “And I will do the best with what I have.”

“What about the father?” Dad said quietly, and Mom huffed a breath. “Where’s he?”

“He’s—it’s complicated. I’m going to speak with him tomorrow, but, yeah, I don’t want to have to rely on him if he chooses not to be involved.”

“He’s legally obligated to provide—” Mom started, but Dad waved away her words. She stared at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “You’re not really considering this, are you, Frank? This is ridiculous.” She focused on me again. “It’s ridiculous. We’ve always been clear with you kids, always. We told you we’d help set you up in life, but that there’d be no handouts, and that still stands. There will be no—”

“For heaven’s sake, Magda, be quiet.” My dad got up and crossed around to my side of the table. He held out a hand, and I took it, rose from my chair. He hugged me tight. “Whatever help you need, we will be happy to provide. Congratulations, darling. I’m so happy for you.”

“But who’s the father?” Mom put in, behind his back. “Who is it?”

I wasn’t ready to answer. Noah’s name traveled up my throat but didn’t get further than my voice box. I couldn’t say it. Even thinking it made me ache.

Because no matter how much I’d wanted to put my feelings for him aside, they were still there. Alongside the doubts, the fears, the conviction that he’d been playing me all along.

And tomorrow, I’d have to find a way to put all of that aside and face him, head-on.