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“We have to wait three minutes.” I exhaled.

“I’ll set a timer on my phone.” He tapped the screen and I walked around the couch.

I stared into the fireplace. I realized something didn’t feel right. I looked around. “What happened to my stuff? Where are my pictures and my Jane Austen collection?”

“Oh. Yeah. I packed it up.”

“To sell?” I heard the crack in my voice.

He laughed. “No, it’s all going back to New York. Are you ok with that?”

“Really? You want my hundreds of pillows?”

“Yes.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. I couldn’t believe he had spent the entire day packing the townhouse. It looked bare and empty. I hadn’t noticed because I was too focused on the test, but everywhere I looked Jeremy had boxed up my life. No more candles. No more books.

“I thought we were going to decide on a few things first. Our tastes are so different, Jer.”

“I can empty the boxes if you don’t want them to go.”

“No,” I shrieked. “I’d love to have everything there.”

“Good. Because I already called a shipping company and it will all be delivered Monday. One hundred pillows just for you.”

I laughed and for a brief second I had forgotten how nervous I was. God, I loved him for that. For how he could ease my soul with a wink.

His phone beeped and we looked at each other. “It’s time.”

“Ok.” I took a heavy breath. “All I have to do is walk in there and look at the stick.”

“Want me to do it?” he offered.

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s different this time, right? We’ve been working on this baby thing all month. The natural way.” I had to convince myself to go into the hall bath and look at the test.

I pulled the door open. The stick was lying on the counter right where I left it.

I held it in my hands and glanced at the small window in the center.

“What does it say?” Jeremy was behind me.

I hung my head. My heart was in my stomach. “Not pregnant.” I choked back tears.

He took it from my hands. His brow furrowed as he stared at the white oval. “But how? Maybe it’s wrong. I was sure you were pregnant.”

“Oh God. It’s not wrong. I knew. I knew.” I ran up the stairs. I couldn’t look at the disappointment on his face. I couldn’t see the pain in his eyes. He had been wrong. This was way worse than doing it alone. I had let him down too. Hurting my husband was unbearable.

“Evie,” Jeremy called. He jogged up the stairs. He strolled into my bedroom.

I wiped the tears with my palms, trying to compose myself, but it was pointless. My mascara ran and my powder was streaked with tears.

“Look at me, Evie,” Jeremy ordered. He sat next to me.

“I can’t.” My voice quivered.

“Fine. Then I’ll make it easier.” He knelt on the floor in front of me, pulling my hands from my face. “Now can you look at me?”

I sniffed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jer.”

“No. I’m not letting you do that.” His blue eyes looked severe.

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