Six months apart was long enough. The second I was free to leave Brisbane, I was gone. There was no chance I was wasting another minute getting back to her.
She rushes through the doorway.
And I stop cold.
For a second, my brain refuses to catch up with what I’m seeing.
I look at her face first.
Then the rest of her.
“Charlotte.”
Her name is the only thing I can manage.
Her body—beneath the thin cotton dress—is unmistakable.
Rounded. Full.
She slides her hands around her stomach, cradling it, and the gesture somehow makes it real in a way it wasn’t a second ago.
My heart stumbles.
I cross the room without thinking. My hands get there before anything else—settling on either side of her, feeling the curve of her, the warmth, the undeniable reality beneath my palms.
“Char, you’re pregnant.” My eyes drop to her stomach again. “Verypregnant.”
I look at her, then back down.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have come the second you knew.”
“Yes.”
The answer is immediate.
“I absolutely fucking would have.”
Her hand comes over mine, resting there.
“Which would’ve been a setback. It would’ve stirred everything up again. And it felt cruel to tell you, then ask you to stay away. You needed to stay in Brisbane.”
“I would never have let you go through this alone.”
“I know. But I haven’t been alone. Your mum’s been here the whole time.”
I knew Mum was still here. I thought it was strange she’d chosen to stay with Charlotte instead of going back home to Marcus and the girls, but I never questioned it. I was grateful that Charlotte had someone with her.
Now it makes a lot more sense.
Charlotte squeezes my hand.
“Christina has things to tell you,” she says. “Importantthings.”
There’s a weight to that—important—something I register without fully taking in. My head’s still catching up, trying to make sense of the shock of finding Charlotte pregnant and everything that comes with it.
“Okay, but she can tell me later.”
