I let out a slow breath, pressing my fingers lightly against my abdomen without thinking. I pull my pants down at the front and turn to the side, taking in the slight bump that I didn’t notice until today.
The problem isn’t only that I’m pregnant.
The problem is that I don’t know which of them—
My chest tightens again. Of course I don’t know. Howcould I?
I turn away from the mirror, pacing the small space of the bathroom as my thoughts start to move faster.
Options. There have to be options. But every path my mind starts down turns back on itself before I get very far, because no matter how I try to frame it, this isn’t a situation I can quietly handle and tuck away.
This ties me to Mason and Brookes. This makes our one-night fling into a permanent connection. Or I have to do something I imagined I’d never be able to do. The thought sends another twist through my stomach. I press my palm flat against the counter and force myself to breathe.
Think.
I could keep it to myself for a while. Take a few days. A week, maybe. Let the shock pass before I say anything. No one else knows yet, and no one is standing here demanding answers from me.
But the idea doesn’t calm me, because the truth is, I don’t want to be alone with this. I don’t want to carry it around in silence, pretending I have control when every part of me knows I don’t.
My gaze drifts to my phone on the counter. For one instinctive second, I think of sending a message to Brookes and Mason. They’d come in a heartbeat if I asked them to. It should be the obvious choice, but instead of easing the pressure in my chest, the thought makes it tighten.
Mason won’t make this smaller. He’ll make it real in a way I’m far from ready for. He’ll have questions. He’ll push for answers. I’ll get defensive, he’ll get stubborn, and suddenly this fragile, terrifying thing I’m still trying to understand will become something I have to manage.
Brookes would be different. He’d give me space andtime, but that almost feels worse because if I hear his calm, careful voice right now, I might come apart completely.
My fingers hover over the phone.
Then I know.
There’s only one person I can call who’ll understand without putting pressure on me to know what I want.
Joelle.
The thought settles over me with relief. She’s been here before. Well, not in this impossible tangle of two men and zero clarity, but close enough that she won’t panic or judge me. She won’t try to solve it or offer me a million solutions before I’ve even caught my breath.
She’ll just be there.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the phone and scroll to her name. My thumb hesitates for half a second before I press call.
It rings twice.
“Hey,” she answers, warm and easy, like the world is still normal. I guess it is for her.
“Joelle.”
There’s a pause, like she can tell my voice isn’t the same.
“What’s wrong?”
I close my eyes and lean back against the counter, gripping the phone tighter.
“I…” The word catches, sounding useless and small. I don’t know how to say it. I don’t even know where to begin.
“Janey,” she says, firmer now. “Talk to me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
I pull in a shaky breath. “I think I made a mistake. A very big mistake.”
A beat of silence. Then, very calmly, “Okay. What kind of mistake?”
