“Ivy, are you all right?” Dr. Stella Dickson rises from her chair and comes to place a well-manicured hand on my shoulder. “Would you like a glass of water?”

I raise my gaze to hers and shake my head.

Since playing a game of hide and seek with the truth is easier than facing it, I play. Her looks are a welcome distraction. I guess her to be in her fifties. Being my mother’s daughter, I spot the telltale signs which point to the fact that she has turned to Botox injections once or twice, but only to enhance her looks, not destroy. Her salt-and-pepper hair is in a braided bun on top of her head. Not a hair out of place. She’s striking, a polished and distinguished woman.

“Did you hear what I said?” She returns to her chair but her turquoise gaze remains on my face.

“I’m sorry.” I sigh. “What . . . What did you say?”

She clasps her hands on the table and leans forward. “You’re pregnant, Ivy. It explains why you’ve been so exhausted and nauseous in the past two months.”

I chuckle “No. No, that can’t be. It’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid your blood results say otherwise.” She glances at the papers on her desk.

I swallow hard and force air into my lungs. I can’t get enough. The more I try to breathe, the harder it gets. After all this time, after all the days of trying to forget Damien and Judson, and everything that happened in Mexico, this is what I get?

I thought the past was behind me or at least I fooled myself into believing it. I’ve enrolled in an online interior design course, moved into a place of my own, done everything that proves I’ve moved on with my life. Only for the past to walk into my present and slap me across the face.

Clenching my fists, I think back to the times Damien and I had sex, we used a condom every time before Judson showed up. Then he forced us to have sex in front of him, gave us no choice in the matter. Now here I am about to have a souvenir from the past.

A souvenir I’m not sure I want.

I wipe a sheen of sweat from my forehead only for sweat to pop up in its place. “I’m sorry.” I grip the sides of my chair. “I . . . have to go. Thank you for your time.” I stand up in a daze and sway to the door. It’s only when my hand touches the doorknob, that I realize I forgot my purse. I return blindly to my chair and lift it.

“Ivy, I’m so sorry this is not the news you wanted to hear. If you do decide to keep the baby, please call for an appointment so we can discuss your choices for prenatal care.”

I nod and barge out of her office, the word baby repeating over and over inside my head.

A few seconds later, I’m standing out on the street, a mild breeze sweeping back my hair. I remain on the sidewalk for quite some time, oblivious to the pedestrians walking around me, the blurred faces studying my face suspiciously, wondering what’s wrong with me.

Baby. Baby. Baby.

As the four letter word spins round and round inside my head, my world tips. I move to the nearest lamppost and lean against it for a second before sliding down to the ground. Someone asks if I’m okay. I wave them off because I can’t give them an answer.

“Okay” is a feeling that’s foreign to me, one that keeps moving out of my reach each time I get close to grasping it.

Sometimes it’s something simple, a dream, a random thought, a stranger on the street that reminds me of Damien or his brother. And my day plunges into the whole of darkness.

Finally I am able to stand again without fainting. Instead of taking a taxi, I disappear into a nearby restaurant and order a glass of water.

After fifteen minutes of staring into my full glass of water, I blink. A tear drops onto the clear surface, breaking the calm. I watch the ripples while listening to the murmur of voices around me. Keeping this news to myself is killing me. I need to talk to someone.

I push the water away and root inside my bag for my phone. I dial Mom’s number first but she doesn’t answer. The only other person I feel comfortable confiding in is Chelsea.

Since returning from Mexico, I had seen Chelsea once when she traveled to Boston to see for herself that I really am alive and well. At seeing me in the flesh, she had wept for the friend she thought she had lost, her tears a mixture of happiness and pain as she apologized for not being there for me, for not protecting me.

I’ve come to realize that some things just happen and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop the inevitable. You plan your life a certain way, do the right things for you. And then, when you least expect it, the carpet is swept from under your feet and you’re sent flying and crashing so hard your plans shatter and you’re left with nothing but the pieces.

Chelsea picks up on the second ring. Before she says anything, I break my news to her. Heavy silence thickens between us when I tell her about the only time I had unprotected sex.

“I don’t know what to do.” I take a gulp of water and rest my head on my arms.

“Shit,” she finally breathes. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, it’s a shock for me too. I feel as though somebody hit me over the head with a hammer.”

“And you’re certain it’s Damien’s? Can a paternity test even determine who the father is? The process could be different when twins are involved.”

“Of course it’s Damien’s. He’s the only man I’ve slept with . . . without protection.” I bury my hands into my hair, trying not to think of having sex with Judson, of the known fact that condoms are not one hundred percent effective. “Look, Chelsea, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t lash out at you. This isn’t your fault. I just don’t . . . I’m so confused right now.” I rub tension from my brow as I answer her question. “A paternity test would be able to tell who the father is because Damien and Judson were fraternal twins, not identical. I think I’d need to get hold of posthumous DNA samples.”

“Damn. This is one hell of a surprise. I don’t know whether to congratulate you or to say I’m sorry.” She pauses for a moment. “Have you thought about whether you want to keep the baby?”

“I haven’t even digested the news yet.” I take another drink of water. This time I allow the liquid to linger longer inside my mouth, cooling my tongue, before swallowing. “Chelsea, what if the baby is evil?”

“I think that’s highly unlikely. That baby you’re carrying is yours. It has your genes and you’re an amazing person.”

“But what if Damien’s genes are dominant?”

“I think Damien wasn’t all evil. Otherwise he wouldn’t have wanted to make things right in the end.”

“He and Judson shared the same blood. Which two people can be closer than twins? And what if my baby takes after Judson?”

“I don’t think it would.” Chelsea exhales. “If you choose to bring that baby into the world, you will raise him or her to be a wonderful human being. Upbringing also has a lot to do with how a child turns out. And if Judson and Damien weren’t raised by the stepfather from hell, they might have turned out completely different.”

I place a hand on my flat stomach. “To tell you the truth, I don’t want this baby. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to abort it.”

“I guess you only have to ask yourself one question. What will hurt more—keeping it or letting it go?”

I close my eyes and grip the phone tighter. “That’s a tough question.” At this point both options make my stomach twist with agony.

“I wish I could take some of your pain away.”

“I know.” I bite my lip to stop it from trembling. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”

“Call me anytime you need to talk, day or night. You don’t have to make it through this alone. And if you want me to come over to see you, just say the word.”

A tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away. “Thanks, Chelsea.”

“Stop thanking me.” She goes silent. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.” From the slight hesitation in her voice, I sense her question will be an uncomfortable one to answer.

“If Damien hadn’t died, do you think you would have given him a chance? You did say he wanted to make amends.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Probably not.” If he had let me go that day and Judson had not shown up, I probably wouldn’t have called the cops on him, but too much had happened between us, enough to taint any chance of a relationship. “I don’t allow myself to dwell on it.”

“You know what I think? I think if you decide to have this baby, you might be surprised to find it has the best parts of Damien, the qualities you felt drawn to, not repulsed by.” She pauses. “Look, I have to go to lectures. I’ll call you again tonight? Hang in there.”

“Sure. We’ll talk soon.”