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I never wanted this. I never wanted to have everything I ever dreamed of dangled in front of me and then taken away just when I finally got to the point where I actually believed it was happening.
“Hope?”
She blinked and looked up to find Jules crouched in front of her. The concern written across the other woman’s face didn’t make her feel the least bit better. “Yeah?”
“Is there something we can do—aside from plan for the inevitable death of my idiot cousin? You look kind of peaky, and I can’t tell if it’s I’ve-just-been-dumped peaky or oh-my-God-the-baby peaky.”
Hope pressed her hand to her stomach, fear beating in her throat. “I…” She forced herself to take a deep breath and think. She didn’t even have a doctor’s appointment for another month. She felt like death walking, but that was 100 percent emotional. Physically she was fine. Hungry, as always, but fine. She tried for a smile and failed miserably. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not, but that’s okay.” Jules squeezed her hand and then stood. “Why don’t you get some rest? If you keep sitting here while Jessica and I plot, you’ll be accessory to murder and my… What would this baby be? Second cousin? First cousin once removed?”
Hope blinked. “I don’t actually know.”
“Minor details.” Jules urged her to her feet and turned to Jessica. “Where are you putting her up?”
The feeling she had of her life spinning wildly out of control only got worse as the night went on. She hadn’t had time to process, which might be a blessing, but the very last thing she wanted to do was have the meltdown she could feel threatening with witnesses present. Hope carefully extracted her hand from Jules. “If it’s all the same, I’ll walk myself up to the spare bedroom.” She stood on wobbly legs, hating her weakness, and walked to the stairs with as much confidence as she could muster. She doubted the show did a damn thing to convince the women behind her that she wouldn’t cry herself to sleep, and she knew if she looked back, they’d have sympathetic expressions on their faces.
She didn’t care.
She’d spent the last thirteen years trying to keep from going under, and she’d be damned before she started now.
Except…
That thought, that deep-seated anger that she never let anyone see, had been useful when she was eighteen and had woken up to realize the world had changed in an instant. It had gotten her through the worst pain of her life, emotionally and physically, and kept her from giving in to the sorrow that made her want to curl up into a ball and cry until things went back to how they used to be. She’d been forged in the flames and come out stronger on the other side.
Except that wasn’t really the truth.
The truth was she’d never stopped hurting. She’d never stopped missing John, though the grief became manageable at some point while she wasn’t looking. She’d never stopped missing her ability to run marathons like she used to, to feel her body flagging and know that it was something to push through because she was almost there.
She’d never stopped mourning the loss of Daniel’s love.
Hope stopped at the top of the stairs, pressing a hand to her chest, the truth almost sending her to her knees. She’d told him the truth when she’d said she never stopped loving him. Even now, even knowing it would never work, that their reasons for trying to make this work were the very definition of irreconcilable differences, she loved him.
That knowledge burned her rage to ash, leaving Hope, pregnant and alone, in its wake.
She made it to the bedroom and closed the door softly behind her. Somehow she managed to get to the bed and burrow beneath covers that smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla. She curled up, placing her hands on her stomach. There was no freaking change in the last few hours, but she imagined she could feel the life growing there all the same.
He’s going to miss this. The sleepless nights. The morning cuddles. All the firsts. He’s going to miss everything.
Maybe I shouldn’t have walked away…
But all she could see was his face when he’d said they should name their baby John. Pain arrowed through her chest, and she had to press a pillow against her face to muffle the sob that escaped. This baby deserved more than to be thought of as some kind of penance. She deserved it, too. Was it too much to ask that he be with her because he loved her, rather than because he was punishing himself for John’s death?
Apparently so.
Another sob escaped, tearing itself from her throat, quickly followed by a third. A cry rose up inside her, desperate to be voiced.
A hand touched her head, and she startled. She’d been so focused on keeping as quiet as possible that she hadn’t realized someone had come into the room. She looked up, shock breaking through her meltdown. “Mom.”
