Holly’s face did the confusion thing before she noticed what was in Jude’s hand. Then her face fell.

“What the f**k?” he said, holding up the pregnancy test in front of her. The pregnancy test I’d stuffed in the top drawer where I kept my toothpaste, ChapStick, and ponytail-holder thingies. Shit.

“Jude,” I said, but he didn’t hear me.

“How the hell are you going to take care of two kids on your own, Hol?” he said, sounding truly upset.

“Jude,” I said again, this time louder.

Holly was glancing between me and Jude, not saying a thing. She couldn’t lie, but she didn’t want to rat me out.

“Say something,” Jude said, waving the test.

“Jude!” There. I’d gotten as loud as he had.

“What?” he shouted, spinning around. His face softened just a bit when he realized he’d snapped at me.

“The test isn’t Holly’s,” I said, unconsciously draping my hands over my stomach. “It’s mine.”

It didn’t register right away. It took a minute. But as Jude’s face changed from red to white, I knew my words were settling in.

“It’s mine,” I repeated, looking at the test.

“Wait . . .” He shook his head, glancing at the test, then back to me. “What?”

I prayed he wasn’t going into shock, because I’d never seen this pale, clammy look on his face, and it sure as hell looked like shock to me. “The pregnancy test is mine.” He actually went a degree whiter at the word pregnancy.

“Don’t play games with me, Luce,” he said, frozen in place.

“I’m not,” I said, my voice quiet. “I’m pregnant.”

He wavered but caught himself. Oh, God. He spread his hands over his face, leaving them there. “When did you find out?”

He’d accepted that I was, indeed, pregnant. We were making progress, although this was hardly the response I was looking for. I knew he wouldn’t be jumping for joy, but I’d hoped for a hug and a We’ll get through this together reassurance.

“Two weeks ago.”

His hands fell from his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

That was the million-dollar question.

“For a lot of reasons,” I answered. “A lot of reasons that don’t matter anymore.”

He stared down at the test in his hand. “They matter to me.”

Okay, I could do this. “I was scared.”

“Of what?” he asked, not able to take his eyes from those two pink lines.

“Everything,” I answered, because it was true.

“Of me?” His voice and the expression on his face broke me. I’d hurt him. The one thing I never wanted to do but could never seem to escape from doing. It was my damn Achilles’ heel: hurting Jude.

“Yes.” I swallowed back the lump forming in my throat.

He flinched. “Afraid that I was going to turn out to be some piece-of-shit father like mine was?”

This time I flinched. That thought had never once entered my mind. I’d had a lot of anxious thoughts, enough worries to fill a person’s entire lifetime, but that had not been one of them.

“No, Jude,” I said, wanting to sit up and go to him, but I wasn’t sure my legs would work at this point in the conversation. “That never crossed my mind.”

“Then why were you hiding the fact you were pregnant from me for two weeks? Two goddamned weeks!”

He looked lost. And the kind of lost where he wasn’t hoping to be found.

“Because of this,” I said, motioning at him, feeling my temper boiling to the surface. “Because I was scared of what your reaction would be.”

He cracked his neck and looked away from me. “Yeah, well, you were right to be.”

“Obviously,” I replied, wondering if I could rewind to two minutes ago and tell Jude myself that I was pregnant before he found the test stick.

“Is it mine?”

Now it was my turn for a blow of his to take a while to settle in. Sure I’d heard him wrong, I said, “What?”

“Is. It. Mine?”

Nope, I hadn’t heard him wrong.

“Jude,” Holly hissed from the kitchen, marching toward him like she was going to punch him in the stomach.

“What?” he said, his eyes crazy. “If she hides the fact that she’s pregnant, who’s to know what else she’s hiding from me?”

Those words, that insinuation, cut me like nothing had before. Jude implying I could have been, or had been, unfaithful to him . . . this was the kind of cut that would never heal.

“Get out,” I whispered, staring into my lap. “Just get the hell out.”

When he didn’t move, I shot up from my seat and pointed at the door while I glared at him with fire shooting from my eyes. “Get the hell out!”

I saw his eyes flash before he turned away, but I couldn’t tell if it’d been a flash of anger or hurt. But I was too hurt myself to find out.

Jude stormed down the hall and slammed the door so damn hard, I thought it was going to fall from its hinges.

Before I collapsed back onto the couch, I heard a string of curses, then what sounded like a fist going through a sheet of drywall.

TWENTY

School, dance, marriage, career . . . Jude. My entire life felt like it was hanging in the balance. There wasn’t one thing I was certain about anymore. Well, save for one: I was certain I still loved Jude. I wanted to be with him, marry him, live and die with him. When life throws you a curveball like it had thrown me, you realize exactly what is important and what isn’t.