Page 62 of The Breakup

I tried to be friends with him, despite his insistence we couldn’t have that kind of relationship. The more I saw him, heard him, thought about the kind of man he was, I realized my snap judgment hadn’t been fair. Did I think it was awesome he had hooked up with Ali? No. But it wasn’t on the same level as what Bradley had done.

I wanted to be friends with Christian because I wanted to have positive memories of him. Of us. Of that moment when he had well and truly been there for me. How many guys would pick up a woman they barely know at the church as she fled her wedding? There had been no guarantee I would have sex with him. He had to have known he might have been saddled with a sobbing mess all night. Yet he had been, well, a friend. And I wanted that again, even if it couldn’t be the same. It felt like he was trying too, despite his words my first night on the job. It wasn’t as awkward as it could have been.

What was awkward was living in an empty house. Bradley had given me the house as promised, and after two weeks everything was squared away and I was able to move in. All I had was an air mattress and folding chairs I had bought at the drugstore. I didn’t want to spend the money on an entire houseful of furniture and I had ditched everything I owned in Boston. My furniture there had been college crap anyway and I had intended to redecorate Bradley’s condo over the next few months.

So I had a cute little cottage and nothing in it but my clothes, groceries, and toiletries.

It was a little lonely and slightly creepy, but I didn’t even care. It was mine. A new beginning.

Plus it wasn’t on the water, which I actually appreciated.

At night I sat in my garden and talked to friends on social media or FaceTime. The garden smelled like the classic English roses the previous owner had planted in abundance. It was quiet and peaceful. I sat on a wrought iron bench that had been left behind and surveyed my domain. I already knew I was going to stay here a long time. I had been applying to positions in the surrounding communities in my field of social work.

Kennedy was gossiping about a mutual friend from college and I was listening to her halfheartedly. Or maybe more dreamily. There was something still so surreal about my new life, but I was surprised at how easy the transition was. The fallout from the canceled wedding had been dramatic, but nothing unexpected. People had talked about it on social media, Bradley’s parents had confronted my parents, at which time my father basically told them to kiss his ass since he was the one who had paid for everything. I had listed my dress online and had sold it for half the value, but I thought that was reasonable considering I had worn it for a few hours. And it might be cursed.

My friends had been puzzled but had stood by me. I hadn’t told anyone the truth besides my family and Christian.

“I should come up and see you,” Kennedy said. “Since the last time we went out you puked on me, maybe we’ll just do a girls’ night at home.”

She didn’t sound upset. She was just digging at me. I rolled my eyes. “Good plan. Though I haven’t had a taste for alcohol anyway. I haven’t drunk since that night I ate the doughnuts. Oh, and a couple of glasses of wine with Christian.” It wasn’t a secret I had been with him. It seemed to be topic of town gossip, so there was no point in pretending. “Mostly I have been craving fried foods. I probably need to get a grip on that. I’ve gained five pounds.”

Most of it in my boobs. My bras were exploding. “Though maybe I’m just getting my period.” Then I sat up straight, no longer relaxed.

I had been there three weeks working five nights a week. And I hadn’t had my period this whole time. It had been four weeks since I’d had sex with Christian. Seven weeks since I’d been with Bradley, because I’d been in Camden for two weeks by myself before I’d found about the cheating. I’d had my period the first week Sophie and I had been at my parents’ house. “Hold on a second.”

Yanking my phone away I checked my period app. I had been so concerned about not having it for the wedding I’d been mapping my cycle for six months. Yep. It had been six weeks. After Bradley. Before Christian. Spots danced in front of my eyes. For a split second I thought I was going to black out. I put the phone back to my ear. “Holy shit, Kennedy, I think I’m pregnant. I haven’t had my period in six weeks!”

“OMG, ew. With Bradley’s child? That would be horrible! Maybe you’re just late because of stress. That happens.”

She was right. That did happen. “I have been under a lot of stress. Maybe I should get a test tomorrow though.” I bit my nail. My acrylics needed a fill and were bothering me. They were too long. “And it wouldn’t be Bradley’s. It would be Christian’s.”

“What? Oh, fuckity fuck. Is that better or worse?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Though the minute I said it, I knew that wasn’t true. “Actually, better. Christian is a really great father to his son.”

“He has a kid already? Oh my God, this is reality TV.”

It kind of was. “You know what? I need to go to the store now. I can’t wait until tomorrow. I’ll die.”

“It’s midnight and you’re in Maine. Good luck with that.”

She was right. There was not a Walmart around the corner. “I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

We talked for another few minutes, most of which she spent reassuring me I was not pregnant. But in my gut I already knew I was. We’d used condoms, but nothing is foolproof. Maybe I would be wrong, but I didn’t think so. I sat in my beautiful little garden and put my hands to my cheeks. Tears ran silently down them. All I had ever wanted was to be a mother, and that it would be given to me like this seemed like the world’s biggest irony. But I didn’t even care. A baby. God. What could be more precious?

And—oh God. Christian was going to hate me. Like, literally hate me.

But he had been there too. It wasn’t my fault he already had a child under awkward circumstances.

I couldn’t assume to know how he would react though. That wasn’t fair to him. If I was pregnant. Which I really thought I was.

Sitting there in the dark in my postage stamp yard, I stared at my phone. And I texted him. If I was pregnant I was going to have to tell him. Maybe I needed to test the waters with how he was feeling about me.

Or maybe I just wanted reassurance.

What are you doing?

I’m still at work.

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