Page 31 of Glass Wings

“Yes.” My grip on the phone tightens. “Three months. I was going to tell you sooner, but with everything that’s happened⁠—”

“You’re having his baby.” It’s not a question, more a verdict.

“Yes,” I whisper.

For the first time in my life, my mother sounds shaken. Her work voice, her perfect-event-planner composure, falters. “Harley … this is … this is a lot. A baby changes everything.”

“I know,” I say quickly, before she can spiral into another lecture. “That’s why I’m calling. I don’t need your approval. I just thought maybe … maybe this time you could try to be here for me. For us.”

Another pause. I hear the faint shuffle of papers on her end, like she’s still working, even during this conversation. “If you want me to come to your next appointment, I will.”

Tears sting my eyes unexpectedly. Not a promise, not warmth, but something. A crack in the wall. “Okay,” I whisper. “That would mean a lot.”

“I’ll check my schedule,” she says, her tone already drifting back toward business. “But … I’ll try, Harley. I really will.”

It’s not perfect. It isn’t the mother I’ve always wanted. But it’s more than the nothing from before.

When I hung up, my hands are still shaking. Kennedy stands in the doorway, a half-filled box in her arms, her face soft with concern.

“You, okay?” she asks.

I wipe at my eyes and give her a shaky smile. “I will be. Just have one more call to make and then we can watch a movie or something.”

She nods and heads toward the guest room, leaving me alone with my phone.

I stare at the screen for what feels like forever, Easton’s last letter still echoing in my head.

You can tell my parents. They need some good news.

Good news. I’m sure if that’s what they’d call it. But I know he’s right, they deserve to know.

With trembling fingers, I scroll until their number light my phone screen. I press Call before I lose my nerve.

It rings once, twice, three times.

“Hello?” His mother’s voice, soft but tired, the way people sound when they’ve been holding their breath for too long.

“Hi, Layla. It’s … Harley.”

A pause. “Harley.” I hear her inhale sharply, a hundred emotions packing themselves into the sound. “How are you, sweetheart? Are you, are you doing okay with everything?”

The lump in my throat grows. “I’m managing. I … I actually called because there’s something important I need to tell you and Andy.”

“Hold on,” she says quickly, her voice pitching higher. “Andy, it’s Harley. Pick up the other line.”

A click, and then his father’s deeper voice joins. “Harley. It’s good to hear your voice.”

I grip the phone tighter. “Hi, Andy.” My breath shakes as I try to form the words. “I know things have been hard with Easton. I know seeing him on the news again must’ve been—” I break off, pressing a hand to my stomach like it can steady me. “But I wanted you to hear this from me, not from anyone else.”

Silence stretches, both of them waiting.

“I’m pregnant.”

The line is quiet for a moment, and then his mother’s breath catches.

“Oh.”

His father clears his throat, his voice rough. “How far along?”