I DRIVE OUT OF THE LOT, and my hands take me to the only person who might understand. Maeve is a little too good and too naïve. She might just be shocked speechless. Corrie can be a tad judgmental, and too cynical. Kayla might just be the best one to ask for advice. She always seems so centered and together.

I haven’t called her. I’m not even sure she’s around — she might be at work. I know for a fact that she doesn’t teach any yoga classes in the afternoon.

I’m still trembling as I buzz the intercom. I’m not sure if it’s the chilly weather or my emotions.

“Hello,” she answers promptly.

“Hi, Kayla… it’s Gabbie,” I say. “Sorry to pop in like this.”

“No worries, come on up.”

She buzzes me up, and I pad up the stairs to her apartment on the second floor. As soon as she swings the door open, I throw myself into her arms. I feel instantly soothed — her apartment is so calming. It’s where we meet every once in a while for movie night. We watch rom-coms and drink wine, and sometimes have a sleepover.

She closes the door behind us. “What’s going on?”

I ease out of my jacket, hang it by the door, and take a seat on her orange sectional. Her place has a rustic bohemian vibe; natural woods, boho patterns, and lots of candles. The wall colors are soothing, and everything is so Zen. My pulse slows down.

“Can I get you a tea?” she asks. As far as Kayla is concerned, a good cup of tea and a good talk can solve anything.

“Sure, thank you,” I say. ‘You know what I like.”

I still can’t believe this is happening. How could this happen? My life is set: the husband, the two adorable children, and the perfect house. My friends, my art. Why would I want anything more? Why do I want this baby?

Kayla makes small talk as she prepares my tea. I know she’s giving me time, letting me ease into it. This is what’s nice about Kayla. Corrie would be all over me like white on rice. She’d be all, “tell me what’s going on, woman! Now!”

Kayla talks about her new next door neighbor who is a total hottie, but she kind of hates him. I think there’s something going there, but she won’t admit it.

She hands me my cup of tea with a kind smile. Kayla has the sweetest smile and the prettiest brown eyes. She’s the kind of caring person you want to spill all your secrets to.

I take a sip, and instantly fall into tears. “I think I might be pregnant.”

She’s speechless and slack jawed. She knows John can’t be the father because she knows all about the vasectomy he had a few years back.

“Crazy, right?!”

“What are you going to do?! Are you sure?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure,” I tell her. “It’s just that…” I set my cup of tea on the rustic coffee table, and reach into my oversized purse for the pregnancy test. “I’m late… just a few days, but I’m never late,” I tell her. “I just got this test at the pharmacy, but I just couldn’t go home to take it… John’s there.”

“I get it…” she says, her eyes still wide as saucers.

“I don’t know how I feel,” I go on. “I’m freaking out, but a small part of me is thrilled.” I turn to her. “Is that crazy?!”

She scoots closer and hugs me. “It’s not crazy… you love this man,” she says. “It’s obvious. And I think you just want to hold on to him.”

She lets go, and fetches me a box of Kleenex — I’m a mess. “I guess that makes sense,” I say. “But can you imagine what my life would be like?”

She smiles. “I know how much you love babies.”

I blow my nose. “I know… I miss those years,” I admit. “But I’m not sure I can… not like this.”

She rests a hand on my shoulder. “Well, there’s no sense in freaking out until we know for sure. Why don’t you go in my bathroom, and take the test right now.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah, I’ve had to pee for the last hour.”

She slaps me on the shoulder. “Well, off you go then.”

I’m sitting on the toilet with my eyes closed. I don’t want to look. I carefully place the pee stick on two squares of toilet paper on the counter, and wash my hands. I stare at my reflection. Can I do this? I’m thirty-five. I’m not too old — my mother had me at forty-two. I’m healthy and have the energy. But this would destroy my marriage — there’s no question about that. Yet, I can’t imagine ever wanting to terminate this pregnancy.

I check my watch. It’s time. I don’t want to look.

I read the directions once more — a plus sign means pregnant, and two straight lines means not pregnant. Pretty simple.

When I finally venture a look, my heart shatters, it smashes to bits. It hurts so much. It hurts more than I could have imagined. I fall into sobs, and kneel on the ground.

I’ve cried so much these past few weeks — I’m convinced that I’ve cried more these past few months than I have in my entire life. I wish I’d never met Eli. I wish John had never met Amanda. We were so happy.

Kayla knocks on the door, just two quick taps. “Are you okay, Gabs?”

My voice cracks when I tell her I’m okay.

“You don’t sound okay.”

I stand up slowly, and reach for the door. I open it, and as soon as she sees me, she hugs me tightly.

“It was negative,” I say. “I’m not pregnant.”

She pulls out of my hold, and eyes me with a confused expression. “But that’s good, isn’t it? It’s what you wanted, right?!”

“It’s what I should want,” I say, “but it’s not what I wanted.”

She takes my hand and leads me to the sofa. I reach for my tea but it’s cold. I set it back on the table.

“You’re not thinking clearly, Gabbie,” she says, her tone soft, not scolding. “This is for the best,” she goes on. “Think about it… you’re married with two great kids. I know John hasn’t been perfect but he’s a good dad and good husband. It was one mistake, and he owned up to it.”

I don’t say a word. I let her talk some sense into me – it’s the reason I came here, after all. I need someone to talk some sense into me.

“Eli sounds like a great guy, but he’s not real. He’s not part of your reality, Gabbie. He’s a starving artist who lives in Copenhagen. Sure he’s hot as hell, has the most adorable dog, and can cook like a gourmet chef, but c’mon… he’s not real.”

Then why does he feel more real than John?

I try not to remember his touch, his smile, the way he made me laugh. What we shared was real. It felt so true.

“Maybe the test was wrong,” I say with sudden hope.

Kayla’s gaze falls to the table. “Those tests are pretty accurate, Gabbie.”

“But I’m never late,” I argue.

“You were probably stressed this month,” she points out. “Stress can affect your menstrual cycle. And you have to admit that April was quite the month for you. Even travel can throw off your cycle, and your body. It’s why I always take probiotics. It helps when I travel, keeps things moving smoothly.”

“You’re probably right,” I say before she sets off on one of her lectures about the benefits of organic food, natural supplements and vitamins.

She bounces off the sofa. “Here, I’ll make you another tea… Raspberry Leaf Ginseng,” she says. “It’s good for stress, and also PMS, and apparently it can get things going if your period is sluggish.”

I smile. “How do you know these things?”

She grins. “It’s what I do.” She fancies herself a natural health practitioner. I honestly don’t know what that means, or if she has any clients, but her natural and healthy glow makes me want to follow in her footsteps.

The tea is actually delicious, and I drain my cup while we talk about Eli. Kayla is convinced that Eli was a midlife crisis of sorts, an adventure, and my way of leveling the playing field in my marriage.

She’s not entirely wrong.

But her words sting a little. Eli means so much more than that to me. He wasn’t just an escape. He wasn’t a revenge plan.

My brain is buzzing as I drive home. Why was I so upset about the pregnancy test? Why did I want this baby so badly? Did I just want to hold on to a part of Eli? Did I want to see his eyes reflected in my child? Did I really want his baby? Or did I just want an excuse to end my marriage. Did I just want a fresh start?