Page 68 of Three Months Yesterday

My heart pounds against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that makes it hard to breathe. I open my mouth to speak, but close it again, the words refusing to form.

“Is everyone okay?” Mark’s voice shifts, concern bleeding through. “Your parents? Brothers?”

“Everyone’s fine,” I manage, my voice cracking on the last word. “I just…I got some news.”

“What kind of news?” There’s panic in his voice now, and I hate that I’m causing him any kind of distress. It’s not fair to him, especially when I’m about to shift his entire world.

I take a shaky breath and plunge forward before I can lose my nerve. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” My hand finds my stomach, pressing against the small curve I’ve only just begun to accept. “I went on a ride with a friend yesterday. I got thrown. Lost consciousness. My friend called an ambulance and they obviously took me to the hospital and ran some tests.”

“Jesus, Madison. Are you⁠—?”

“I’m fine,” I rush to assure him. “Sorry, I should have started somewhere else,” I mutter, more to myself than Mark.

“Madison, just tell me what’s going on,” Mark demands, his voice still so incredibly gentle.

“They ran my bloodwork to make sure it was safe to run some additional tests, and…” My eyes fall shut as I force the words out. “I’m pregnant, Mark.”

The silence on the other end is absolute. I count the seconds—one, two, three—my pulse thundering in my ears.

When I make it to thirty, I can’t help but speak. “Mark?”

“Yeah,” he chokes, his voice hollow. “I’m here. Just…you’re pregnant?”

“Eighteen weeks, to be exact.” My eyes fall to the hand still resting on my stomach. The curve is there, but it’s so small, so easy to miss. And yet it’s as real as the stool beneath me, as the cup of coffee in front of me, as my growing feelings for the man I know I’m going to have to let go.

There’s another stretch of silence, longer this time, and I let Mark break it. I can hear him breathing, slow and measured, like he’s trying to process what I’ve told him, and I can’t blame him. I felt the same way when the doctor dropped the bomb on me.

“How?” he asks quietly after another minute of silence.

I explain the best I can, the words mechanical, sounding rehearsed somehow. “The depo shot. It’s normal not to have a period while you’re on it. And even after you stop, it can be up to a year before your cycle normalizes again. Things at the inn have been so busy, and with my family, I just didn’t think anything of it. The possibility never even crossed my mind.”

“Eighteen weeks,” he repeats, like he can’t wrap his head around it.

“I know.”

“And you’re sure it’s…” He trails off, but I know what he’s asking. “No, I don’t⁠—”

“Yes.” I squeeze my eyes shut, tears pricked at the corners.

There’s a part of me that can’t believe Mark would ever ask that question, that he’d ever doubt my faithfulness to him, but the other part understands that’s not what’s driving the question. It’s disbelief we’re having this conversation at all.

That doesn’t stop me from answering his question, wanting him to know without a shadow of a doubt. “The baby’s yours, Mark.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and unmovable. I hear him exhale, long and shaky, and for a moment neither of us speak.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

I flinch, the question hitting like a physical blow. “How can you ask me that?”

“Shit,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’re right. That’s a stupid question. I’m sorry, I just—I don’t know what to say.”

I prop my elbows on the counter, letting it hold me up. “I don’t either. This isn’t exactly a conversation I ever thought I’d be having.”

“Madison—” He stops, pausing to take a breath before he starts again. “What do you want from me?”

The question is so simple, so direct, that it catches me off guard. I think about everything I could ask for. Money. Support. For him to step up and be a father to this baby. But I don’t need the money, and I know I’ll have all the support I could possibly need from my family and this town. And most of all, I know having kids was something he never wanted. Asking him to be a father to a child he likely doesn’t want feels like it’d do more harm than good.

“Only what you want to give,” I tell him quietly.