The loose plank outside Evan’s office door creaked as he stepped on it, but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t know if I could bring myself to look him in the eye.

He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he knew. He knew I’d remembered. He walked up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder. I fought the urge to flinch away. Instead I picked the drawer key off his desk and handed it to him.

“Show me the picture.”

“Are you sure you—?”

“I need to see it.”

He slid the key into the lock and turned it slowly. I reached in and pulled out the single sheet of glossy paper. The tiny, white object was grainy and out of focus, nothing more than a splotch in a field of black.

And it was more beautiful than any photo I’d ever seen or taken.

I ran my finger along the side.

“How far along was I?” I whispered.

“Eight weeks in the ultrasound.” He gulped and his voice choked up. “Twelve when we lost her.”

“Her?”

All the pieces fell into place. My cleared schedule for the summer. The discarded diaphragm. The boobs with a life of their own. A delayed registry for when we really needed new stuff. The blueprint for a nursery straight out of a fairy tale. A blueprint that my husband couldn’t bear to look at.

And the answer to the question that had loomed in my mind since I’d woken up to find myself married to Mr. Perfect. The answer to why he pulled out every time we made love.

Mr. Perfect had accidentally knocked me up. He’d felt obligated to marry me. And he wanted to make damn sure he didn’t make the same mistake twice.

* * *

Evan tried to get me to talk, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

I sat on the bed, fists clenched and heart broken. There was an empty suitcase at my feet. I had decided to go stay with Jen or my parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to fill it yet. Ironically because everything in this house reminded me of Evan. Every item held too many memories. A whole month’s worth of falling head over heels in love with the man.

It wasn’t that I was angry. Okay, yes, I was angry. Part of me was furious. He had lied to me. Repeatedly. Or if they hadn’t been outright lies, he’d certainly withheld the truth.

But it was more that I was sad that I hadn’t been given the chance to grieve. And I was disappointed that he’d kept it from me. This past month, he had told me over and over with his words and his actions that he adored me. But he didn’t trust me to share the pain of losing our child.

Bruised pelvis. I rubbed the spot where she’d been. Where she’d still be, save for a patch of black ice.

There was a soft knock at the door, and I had to fight the childish urge to shout, “go away!”

The door opened, but it was Jen who stepped into the room.

“Hey,” she said.

“Did you know?” I asked without preamble.

She didn’t answer, merely bowed her head.

“You did. You knew? And you didn’t tell me? How could you?”

“It’s complicated.” She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling at a thread on the duvet.

“So explain it to me. Explain how my best friend could keep a pregnancy from me. My pregnancy. My baby girl.”

“It was a girl?” Jen looked up from the thread. Tears splashed over her lashes, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“You didn’t know that?”

“I only found out you were pregnant at the hospital. After you’d already miscarried. You hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy.”

“Even my family?”

“No one. Although, I think they probably suspected. And in a few months, they could have done the math.”

“Do they know now?” Now that she was gone.

“No.”

“So Evan wanted to keep it a secret?”

“Ha.” Jen bit her fist to hold in the mirthless laugh. “Oh, gosh no. Apparently Evan had wanted to shout it from the rooftops before the pee had dried on the stick. You were the one who wanted to keep it under wraps.”

“No.” My hands shook as I touched the empty, hollow spot in my middle. “I wanted her. I loved her. I know I did.”

“Oh, honey.” Jen dropped the duvet and gathered me up in a tender embrace, both our tears spilling freely. “No one would ever in a million years doubt that. Never. You were such a loving mama for the time you had with her. You are a loving mama.”

“But I don’t even remember her. And now, she’s gone.” I pressed against my pelvis until I could feel the sharp sting of the now long-faded bruises.

“She may not be here.” Jen placed her hand over mine, then lifted it and held it against my heart. “But she’ll never leave here.”

“It just hurts so much.” Sobs racked my body, and Jen didn’t say anything. She simply rubbed my back as I curled up on the bed, trembling. “And I don’t know how to fix this with Evan.”

That glass wall between us had broken, yes. But now it felt like there was a minefield of shattered shards that threatened to cut to the bone no matter what I did next.

“Maybe”—Jen stopped rubbing my back and lifted my chin—“maybe what you need is to hurt together.”