Turn around! Go home! Stop the insanity before it’s too late!

But it’s already too late.

It was too late last night, but of course I didn’t know that when I was making Dylan promises I won’t be able to keep.

I didn’t know the truth until nine thirty this morning when, instead of dashing out the door to the tasting room, I was dashing into the bathroom to throw up everything I’d eaten for breakfast…

I curse softly as I sit back against the shower door and pull my phone from my jeans pocket. When Carrie answers, I don’t bother with formalities, “Don’t come up today. Stay home. I’m sick and I don’t want to infect you if I’m contagious.”

“Oh no,” Carrie says. “Bummer. I was looking forward to seeing you and watching the magic happen in the tasting room.”

“Me, too.” I sigh. “But I just finished being sick, and I know how much you hate vomit. I feel better now, so it might just be a touch of food poisoning, but—”

“Or a touch of knocked up,” she cuts in, making me blink in surprise. “You’ve heard of morning sickness, right?”

“Of course,” I say with a shaky laugh. “But I just had my period. There’s no way I’m pregnant.”

“But you said it was super light, right? I remember you did, because it made me think I should keep an eye on you, just in case. My friend Casey from college spotted all through her pregnancy. She didn’t even realize she was knocked up until she was almost five months along. After she’d broken up with Gareth and had been drinking like a fish for weeks to drown the heartache. But the baby was fine. So don’t worry if you’ve had a glass or two. I’m sure you’ll both be fine.”

I huff, shaking my head. “Good to know, but I’m not pregnant. I can’t be.” But even as I deny the possibility, my heart beats faster, and a wonderful, dreadful feeling rises inside of me.

If I’m pregnant, it will be a miracle, the answer to a prayer.

But if I’m pregnant it will also mean that Dylan won’t have dodged that bullet after all. The one he made it clear he was so grateful to have avoided. He’s not ready to become a father. He doesn’t want this baby. And maybe he won’t want me, either, once he realizes what’s happened.

“Just take a test,” Carrie says, her voice penetrating the panic and excitement coursing through me. “And then call me back. I want to be the first to know. And then we can talk about how you’re going to break the news to Sexy Farmer.”

“I’ll take a test later today. I have to get to work right now,” I lie, needing time to think before I commit to sharing this news—or lack of news; there’s still an excellent chance I’m not pregnant—with anyone. Even my sister.

“Okay, but if I don’t hear from you by tonight, I’m jumping in the car and coming up there to put a stick in your pee myself.”

“Gross.” My stomach snarls at the thought. But I don’t feel sick. I just feel…empty, like I need a piece of bread or something to calm the stomach storm.

“This from the girl who showed me how to put in a tampon?” Carrie asks.

“That’s different. That’s big sister call of duty stuff.” I come to my feet and head for the kitchen. “I’ll call you later, okay? I promise.”

As soon as I hang up with Carrie, I call Neil and tell him something’s come up and I won’t be able to make it to the tasting room until later. He assures me they’ll be fine with the extra hands I called in, and the last obstacle to learning the truth ASAP is easily removed. I consider heading for the drugstore to grab an over the counter test, but in the end, I call Dr. Seal’s office and make a ten-thirty appointment with the nurse practitioner, instead.

If I am pregnant, I need to know if the baby’s okay—bleeding for several days doesn’t seem like a good thing, even if it was a light flow—and they’ll be able to do an ultrasound at the office.

I focus on making a logical decision and gathering data. I do my best not to worry about Dylan or how a positive outcome might affect our future until I know for sure there’s something to worry about.

I manage to stay relatively calm until approximately ten forty-eight a.m. when a transvaginal ultrasound reveals a tiny dot.

A tiny dot that is my baby.

My baby…

I’m pregnant…

I’m pregnant and the baby is just fine.

The nurse tells me that a little bleeding in the beginning is normal, but to come back in if I start bleeding again. She congratulates me, reminds me to keep taking my prenatal vitamins, gives me a list of foods I should avoid now that I’m pregnant, and sends me to the front desk to make my next appointment.

But I walk right past the front desk out to my car, where I sit in the parking lot for a solid half hour, devising a plan that I hope will make everything okay.

Or as okay as it can be considering I’m thrilled to the depths of my being at the news of this miracle baby, and the man I love doesn’t want to be a father.

Three hours later, I’m almost to Carrie’s house, with enough clothes in my suitcase for several weeks, and half of my heart left behind me in Mercyville.

I have no idea if my plan is going to work, but I’ve done the best I can, and I can’t bring myself to regret this life growing inside of me. I’m already in love with this tiny miracle human, willing to do whatever it takes to keep him or her healthy, happy, and safe.

Even if it means giving up the only man who ever made me feel loved for exactly who I am.