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We went home and settled in for the night, and before I knew it, the clatter of Christmas morning had taken over the house. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air and the crackle of the fireplace was the soundtrack to our holiday. Dad had claimed the large armchair and was snoring peacefully, wrapped in the satisfaction of a post-presents holiday nap. Mom and I were in the kitchen, baking cookies and dancing around each other in a choreographed routine of mother-daughter harmony.
But as we moved in sync, a ball of guilt twisted in my stomach. Each happy domestic scene, each moment of tranquility only served to remind me of the secret I was keeping. It was like a shadow hanging over me, painting every joyful moment with a shade of regret. It wasn't fair to them. It wasn't fair to me.
With a shaky breath, I turned to my mom, my hands covered in flour, my heart pounding.
"Mom," I started, my voice breaking a little. She looked up from where she was measuring out ingredients, her eyes filled with concern.
"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked, her motherly instincts kicking in full force.
"I'm..." I swallowed, steeling myself. "I'm pregnant."
I knew I’d made the decision to tell Tony first. But something had to give, and that was it.
For a moment, there was silence. Then my mom's face split into a grin, her eyes watering as she threw her arms around me.
"Oh my God, Jude! Oh my God!" she exclaimed, her voice so loud that it jolted my dad awake. He shot up from his chair, his glasses askew and his eyes wide.
"What's wrong?" he asked, looking from me to my mom, concern etching lines into his forehead.
Mom pulled away from me, still grinning, and turned to him. "Nothing's wrong, Richard! Just that our daughter is going to have a baby!"
And just like that, the room erupted into pure, unadulterated joy, the guilt finally lifting.
The happiness was infectious, washing over me in waves. The warmth of their embrace, the sound of their laughter, it was a balm to the fears that had been eating away at me. Dad scooped me up, his arms strong and comforting, a twinkle in his eyes as he spun me around. The room was a blur of smiles and tears.
"How far along are you, sweetheart?" Mom asked, her hand already on my belly.
"About six weeks," I replied, a hand coming to rest atop hers.
"And are you okay?" Dad's voice was laced with concern. "I mean, physically, emotionally...?"
"I'm... managing," I admitted. "The nausea's been pretty bad, but I've got medication now."
"That's good, that's good." Dad nodded, relief evident in his eyes.
They looked at each other, the question unspoken but clear in their expressions. The father. I knew it was coming, and part of me dreaded it.
"So, who's the lucky guy?" Mom asked cautiously, giving me a look that clearly said she knew there was more to the story.
Just as I was about to reply, the doorbell rang, its sudden chime breaking the tension and bringing the conversation to a halt. We all looked at each other, surprised. I wasn’t expecting any visitors.
"I'll get it," I said, my curiosity piqued. As I walked toward the door, I could hear my parents whispering in the kitchen.
Unsolicited questions and unexpected doorbells—a true holiday, indeed.
"Give me a second, I'll be right back," I said over my shoulder heading toward the door. I couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety. If it was Andrew on the other side of that door, ready to ruin my holiday with one more visit, I wasn’t sure how I’d react.
As I reached the door, I took a deep breath before opening it, ready to face whoever was on the other side. But as it swung open, all the witty comebacks and scathing remarks I'd prepared for Andrew died on my lips. Because standing in front of me wasn't my ex—it was Tony.
He was there, standing on my porch, dusted with snow and grinning from ear to ear. "Merry Christmas, Jude," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I stood there frozen, words failing me. Was this a dream? It had to be. Because otherwise, that meant Tony was here. On my doorstep. On Christmas Day.
I glanced back over my shoulder, my mind racing. My parents were in the kitchen, waiting for an explanation I didn't have.
Chapter 33
Tony
