“Soon,” I murmur, looking at my phone to check the time. I’ve already filled her in—why this conversation matters, why this needs to happen tonight before me and Grant go away for the weekend. And Holly agreed her spot was the perfect neutral ground. She even promised to spike Marlow’s cocoa with a little rum, just enough to keep her from going full nuclear if things went sideways.
We’re half-joking about her annualThis Christmasparty—where she screens the movie and forces everyone to do karaoketo the entire soundtrack—when the door opens. I look up and Marlow steps in.
Then my heart drops.
She looks pale, clammy, her usually polished self nowhere in sight. Her eyes find me, and the sight of me seems to unravel her because she walks over, slumps onto the barstool, buries her head in her arms—andcries.
“Low, honey. Are you okay?” I reach for her, panic tightening my chest. “Is it Declan? Do I need to shank his Italian, tattooed ass?”
She lifts her head, eyes wet, face blotchy in a way I’ve never seen before. Then, like the words are trying to claw their way out of her, she blurts it—loud, raw, and shaking.
“Eslin! I’m pregnant!”
Chapter fifty-three
Peppermints & Positivity
Marlow
Okay. Something has been off with me. Wrong. My stomach’s been tied in knots more often than not, I can’t touch the food I normally crave, and the final straw—the one that really sent alarm bells ringing—was when I opened a can of diet soda and nearly gagged. Me. The girl who used to swear she had carbonated aspartame running through her veins. That’s when I knew something wasn’t right.
I’d planned to see my doctor next week, convincing myself it was just nerves from the job. But at the Holiday Bazaar, I ended up running to the restroom three times to throw up—and I hadn’t even eaten since lunch. By the third time, my body felt hollow, my hands gripping the edge of the sink just to stay upright. That’s when she walked in.
The new reporter. Shaun Kennedy’s replacement.
At first, panic spiked—I was afraid she’d see me like this, unkempt and miserable, and spin it into a story. But instead, she offered me one glance, one sympathetic smile, and asked a single question that knocked the air out of me.
“First trimester or second? My sister’s morning sickness lasted through both.”
Her words slam into me like a brick to the chest. My throat goes dry, my knees nearly buckle, and before she can ramble on about ginger chews or pregnancy pops or Gatorade, I bolt.
Straight to the nearest drugstore.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I just grab every single brand of pregnancy test I can find, my hands shaking so hard I nearly drop them all in the checkout line. I know I’m supposed to be meeting Eslin right now but I will not be able to sit through any conversations with this gnawing at me. And there’s no way I’m waiting until I get home.
So I lock myself in the public restroom, rinse out an old coffee cup I had rolling around in my car, and use it as my makeshift sample.
One test. Then another. Then another.
By the time I stopped, twelve little sticks were lined up in front of me. Twelve glaring results. Every one shouting the same thing: Pregnant.
My life is about to change forever.
At Holly’s, Eslin gently takes the mug I’ve been holding and swaps it for her own.
“Here,” she says softly, “drink this one instead. That one isn’t safe…” She pauses, and I swear I see tears threatening to spill in her eyes. “This one isn’t safe for the baby.”
I lift the cup, take a long sip, the peppermint cocoa warm and rich on my tongue, and glance back at her. Her face is frozen in shock—eyes wide, lips parted—like she still can’t quite process the words I’ve just laid in her lap.
Leaning forward, desperation curling through my voice, I whisper, “Es, please. Youcannottell Daddy.”
From behind the bar, Holly lets out a low whistle and mutters, “This shit just keeps getting better.”
But Eslin isn’t amused. Her voice is firm, almost pleading. “Marlow, you have to tell him. Please don’t make me carry another secret for you. Not this one.”
I shake my head, clutching one of the tests for dear life. “Just until I tell him about Declan. Once that’s out in the open, then I’ll…then I’ll tell him about the baby. One secret at a time. Please, Eslin?”
Her eyes search mine, steady and unrelenting, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she pulls me into her arms, holding me tight like she knows I’m unraveling right there in her embrace.
