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First scan. 6 weeks. G + P = PJ!
Paul and Grace were pregnant.
They were going to become parents together.
Arsène was wrong. Theyweregoing to leave us for one another. Paul never would have let another man raise his child. For all his faults, he’d always wanted children.A herd of little stinkers to call my own.He’d pat my ass after we’d have sex. His way of wishing I’d get pregnant.
Which begs the question—what happened? Where had their plan gone sideways?
I examine the ultrasound photos again, more carefully now, as adrenaline gives way to far deeper emotions. Rage. Pain. Shock. The name of the clinic, and the date of the scan indicates it was done some time ago. Mere weeks after Italy.
Suddenly, I remember the picture in Grace’s Instagram account. The one that was in the private investigator’s file.
Miss my baby.
Innocently, I thought she was referring to Paul. But she wasn’t.
She was referring to her miscarriage.
That’s what went wrong for them. Grace had had a miscarriage. Bad omen? One of them had chickened out and decided to stay with their partner. Probably Grace, knowing what I now know about Paul.
Grace shone where I had failed. She almost gave him a baby.
My marriage was a sham.
The so-called love of my life was a joke.
I’m all fired up and shaking with anger as I make my way back to Paul’s office. I’ve never been this affronted, this wounded in my entire life. I can’t think clearly, and it scares me, because I’m not completely in control of my actions right now.
I shove the USB into Paul’s computer and wait for a new folder to pop up on the screen, bracing myself for the worst. Once it does, it presents a few dozen videos. By the thumbnails alone I can tell these are old videos. It is apparent that they were transferred from a videotape. I click on one and don’t recognize the people in the video. This is not Paul’s family. Not his mom, not his dad, not his siblings. These are complete, beautiful strangers. I’ve never met them in my life.
Who are they? Why did Paul have this? Was he keeping it for a friend? A colleague?
Then I realize ... these people in the videos are not strangers at all.
At least, I know one of them. Intimately.
Gosh, Paul, why did you take part in this awful woman’s schemes?
The next half an hour passes in a daze. I shove the USB and ultrasound pictures into a FedEx envelope and call a courier to send it to Arsène’s apartment. There is no reason to pick up the phone and call him. We decided not to see each other again. It’s for the best, seeingas what I’m about to do will shock him and those around him to the core.
Next, I give Chrissy a call, informing her that I’m dropping out ofThe Seagull. She doesn’t answer, and I go straight to voice mail, which is a huge relief.
Finally, I text Lucas, Rahim, Renee, and Sloan a heartfelt apology.
Dear Seagull Cast,
I know you’re going to hate me, and to be honest, you have every reason to.
What I’m about to do is put myself first and disregard your best interests.
I’m going away for a while. As some of you know, I lost my husband almost a year ago.
Well, what you don’t know is that in recent weeks, I’ve lost much more than that.
I lost my hope. I lost my faith in humanity. I lost the precious memories I have from my late spouse. I lost everything. But I think I’m beginning, for the first time in years, to gain something too. Perspective.
Even if I stayed, I’m not sure I would’ve made a valuable contribution to Calypso Hall. I know Penny will do an amazing job as Nina.
