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Chapter 1
RACHEL
Thesunfiltersintothe room, heating the back of my neck and making me feel all the more uncomfortable. Several women sit with me, one fanning herself, another cradling a baby to her, while the woman next to me scolds her eldest son for not sharing a block with his twin sister. I see my future as I stare at these women, not knowing how to feel. After discovering my pregnancy, it didn’t take long for me to decide to keep the child growing inside me. They were created with love, and I wanted to see that love grow and blossom into something more.
Now, I’m not so sure. As I stare at the toddlers, the babies, and the pregnant women around me, I don’t know if I can do this. I’m not even twenty-two. Thinking of motherhood reminds me of my own mother, who always kept a clean house, had dinner on the table, helped me with homework, and had advice for me when I was suffering from bullying or had problems with friends. She always knew what to do, despite her issues now.
How can I be a mother?
I can barely juggle schoolwork, the cafe, and my boyfriends. I’m always whining or complaining about something. Hell, I can’t even solve my own problems. I’m always going to Charlie when things get me down. God, I wish she was here. I wish I could tell her, but I haven’t even told the bros. I haven’t told my parents. Already, I’m fucking this whole motherhood thing up by not telling my closest friends and family. How am I going to do this?
But, if I do tell my parents, what good will that do? They’re divorced and acting like jilted teenagers with the way they treat each other. Mom is constantly throwing her new relationship in my dad’s face, as if she wants him to be angry about moving on. She was the one who cheated on him, yet somehow, she’s the one that gets to be angry. And Dad is still living in that run-down apartment, making me worry about whether he gets home safely at night. Not to mention, he barely makes ends meet. There’s no way he will be able to financially help me. Not that I’m asking for help.
I sigh and tilt my head back, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wishing I had thought this through better from the beginning. The first thing I should have done is tell the bros, or at least show them the positive pregnancy test. It’s been two months since that fated day. Two months since everything in my life changed.
Rather than telling them of the child growing inside me, I went swimming with them. I acted as normal as I could, which somehow worked. It probably helps that Alex and Seth left shortly after to go to the training camp, and Lucas has been busy with his next book. Hunter has also been busy with work, making it easy for me to hide. And, I’ve spent most of my time searching on the internet about hiding my growing bump, learning the magical ways of layering, no matter how hot it is. Summer dresses have become quite handy in concealing my shape, but what will happen when I enter my third trimester? I won’t be able to hide this forever.
Not two months ago, I had my first appointment in this clinic. I remember staring up at this wall, my legs bouncing up and down, fidgeting with worry while waiting for the nurse to call my name. The whole time I had been contemplating whether I would keep the child, knowing I still needed to finish school, needed to make a name for myself in the art world. There still are so many things I need to do.
But as soon as I saw that tiny dot on the sonogram, I melted, and there was no going back.
The door opens, and a nurse pops her head out, a smile on her lips as she gazes through the room, searching for her next target. I’ve never learned the nurse’s name, but she seems to be here every time I have an appointment with her blonde hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Her gaze lands on me, and I know I’m next without her evening needing to call my name.
“Rachel Miller,” the nurse says sweetly, and I push myself out of the chair, grimacing at the sharp pain stabbing my back while balancing on my feet.
A wave of dizziness hits me, and I take deep breaths, counting to ten to calm my struggling stomach. At twenty-two weeks, you would think I’d be done with the morning sickness. In my case, I expect to be vomiting all the way up until delivery.
I smile to the other ladies while I stride as briskly as possible toward the nurse, wanting to get this over as quickly as possible before Lucas and Hunter notice something is up. The hardest part of hiding my pregnancy has been coming to these appointments, which have been growing more frequent with each passing month. Hunter, the only one with a car right now, has been getting curious as to how I spent my time on these little trips, and hiking the thirty minutes from the center of campus to the clinic has been taking a toll on my swelling feet.
“How are you today, Miss Miller?” Dr. Adams asks while looking through my file.
The door clicks closed behind me, and the nurse gestures for me to head toward the scale, which I have been trying to avoid as much as possible these days. “Fine,” I say while stepping onto the evil contraption, averting my eyes when the nurse moves the sliding weights. “Still puking my guts up every day.”
“The morning sickness hasn’t let up?” Dr. Adams gives me a look of empathy. She’s about my mom’s age with greying brown hair and kind, green eyes. I liked her the moment I met her. She’s not judgmental, has a maternal soul, and seems genuinely interested in ensuring the health of both baby and mother.
“I think it’s gotten worse,” I say while stepping off the scale.
Dr. Adams sighs and shakes her head. “Unfortunately, that happens. Just continue to drink your liquids and keep to a healthy diet. What about any pain? Bleeding?”
The nurse, bless her soul, doesn’t utter a word about my weight. Instead, she sidles close to Dr. Adams and takes my file, writing the dreaded number inside for me to hopefully never lay eyes on. I make my way over to the chair across from the scale and sit, holding out my arm so my blood pressure can be taken.
“My back sometimes hurts,” I say with a shrug. “Other than that, things seem to be fine. No bleeding.”
Dr. Adams nods while she looks at my file, most likely eyeing my weight. The nurse starts the inflatable arm cuff while I watch Dr. Adams, taking in her subtle nods, waiting for her to grimace, waiting for something to inevitably be wrong.
“Your weight is good,” Dr. Adams says. “You’re in full swing of your second trimester. I’m thinking in another two weeks, we should up your prenatal appointments to every two weeks.”
Great. More appointments. Hunter will definitely start asking questions if I begin requesting he drive me into town more often. Luckily, the school year is beginning in a week, so it shouldn’t be too bad. Maybe. Hopefully. It’s just getting difficult making the thirty-minute trek to this clinic. It’s good for me. It’s good for the baby. But with each passing week, my body grows heavier, and movement has become difficult.
“Alright,” Dr. Adams says with a smile. “Let’s have a look at the little bun. Make sure they’re in the right position.”
I smile, feeling giddy as I make my way into the chair next to her screen. This is what I look forward to—seeing the baby, seeing how they are growing inside me. It’s still so shocking. I’m creating a child inside me. I can feel them moving around sometimes at night or during the day. The pain sucks. The morning sickness sucks more, but this makes it all worth it, knowing soon I will have a little one to hold in my arms.
I pull my baggy shirt up, wincing when Dr. Adams massages the cool gel into my belly. My focus is on the screen, waiting for my womb to show. Dr. Adams takes out the wand-like device and presses it onto my stomach, slowly moving it. My smile widens when I see my baby. I haven’t even thought to give it a name. I don’t know the sex, and so I always call them ‘my little one’ or ‘little bun.’
“They’re in the right position,” Dr. Adams says gently, “and they’re growing well. Looks like everything is A-okay. Keep up the good work, Rachel.”
Dr. Adams takes the wand away, and the image of my baby immediately dissipates. I can hear the printer going while the nurse wipes the gel from my belly, and I know it’s another sonogram that I have to hide from the bros.
