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Sophie’s smile was so big that her cheeks ached. Patrick wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her into him, kissing her on the cheek. Sophie closed her eyes and tried to imagine that fateful day when she would finally become a mother. She imagined herself and Patrick squabbling over a name. She imagined feeling like the luckiest mother in the world.
“All mothers think they’re giving their babies the best name,” Sam offered. “When I named Darcy and Rachelle, I was pretty sure I was a genius.”
Everyone laughed appreciatively.
“They’re great names,” Derek said, raising his Coke.
“It’s a lot of pressure,” Sam admitted. “The name sets them up for the rest of their lives.”
Sophie stacked her hands over her abdomen, considering the collection of cells in her womb—an entire, nameless person who would be her future. Sam was right. It was a lot of pressure to name a person. But she wanted to be the sort of woman to take that on without fear. She wanted to be like those mothers suddenly strong enough to lift vehicles off their babies or fight bears. There was a strange magic to motherhood. And Sophie had never been allowed to experience it. Not until now.
Chapter Fifteen
Twenty-Two Years Ago
Jared’s alarm blared at six-thirty every morning. It rattled through Sophie’s dreams, yanking her into the chilly black morning. A dutiful fiancée, she padded downstairs while Jared showered to make a big pot of coffee and breakfast: eggs, sausages, and toast. They were young, twenty and twenty-one, their metabolisms raging, and they treated every meal like a feast.
As Sophie slid Jared’s breakfast plate in front of him, he arched his brow. Sophie’s stomach dropped. She studied the eggs, the sausages, and the coffee, searching for what she might have done wrong. Jared liked everything to be made in a very particular way. If she did one thing wrong, it could throw off his entire day—a day in which he was required to attend meetings and impress the right people. And Sophie wanted to be the kind of fiancée and wife that set up everything just right.
“What is it?” Sophie asked, her heartbeat quickening.
Jared sipped his coffee. “Baby, it’s just the eggs. Look.” He gestured vaguely with his fork at a bit of the whites, which were runnier than he liked them.
“Oh! I didn’t even notice. I’ll just redo them. Not a problem.” Sophie’s cheeks burned. Swiftly, she turned on her heel, opened the fridge, and grabbed two more eggs from the carton. But as she hurried to the skillet, she dropped one of them. The yolk splattered across the floor.
“Calm down,” Jared ordered, his voice like a spike. “You’re acting like a fool.”
Sophie’s shoulders quaked. “I’m so sorry, Jared.” She spoke to the floor, too terrified to look up at him.
Silence filled the kitchen. Sophie didn’t dare breathe.
“Baby, it doesn’t matter.” Jared smiled, but there was a crack in its formation as though he were hiding his true anger. He got up from the kitchen table, walked over to her, and wrapped his arms around her so that his hands were pressed over her pregnant belly. She was now three and a half months along, and she’d begun to mention the fact of her pregnancy casually in conversation, perhaps as a way of getting accustomed to the idea herself.
“Just try not to do it again next time,” Jared said sweetly, lining her neck and shoulder with kisses. “We can’t waste eggs across the kitchen floor. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“I know, baby,” Sophie whispered.
“I’ll just eat these ones,” Jared said, returning to his stool happily and digging into the egg whites he’d previously been disgusted by.
Sophie blinked at her plate of dry toast and decided she wasn’t hungry. Her belly fluttered with anxiety.
After Jared left that morning, Sophie scrubbed the kitchen counters and the floor, spinning with adrenaline. It was always after she made a mistake with Jared—bad breakfast, badcleaning, bad conversation—that she thought most about using again. She remembered it easily: how she’d drifted away from reality with one glass of wine or a pill. It had been so simple. In that way, she’d struggled to understand why everyone didn’t use it all the time. Life was difficult as it was. Didn’t they know about the escape hatch?
But no. Sophie was clean now. She knew her life would be better without the pills. She had clearer thoughts. She was healthy-looking. Her eyes were white rather than bloodshot.
Sophie hadn’t gotten sober because of the baby. She’d gotten sober because she’d wanted to be good enough for Jared—and she’d recognized that drinking and using drugs made her sloppy and weak. When she quit everything cold turkey, Jared’s love for her intensified. When they’d gotten engaged and pregnant, Sophie had thoughtthat’s it,I’m finally free.I finally have a reason never to use again.
Later that morning, Sophie’s mother called. Sophie was napping, but she answered on the fourth ring, grateful for somebody to talk to. These long days alone were lonely. She’d considered getting a job, but Jared insisted she stay home. “I want to take care of you,” he’d said.
“Hey, honey! Do you have plans this afternoon? I thought we could go to that little sandwich place, then check out the baby clothes across the street.”
Sophie smiled into the receiver. She could picture her mother in the kitchen of her childhood home, beaming. Her excitement for Sophie’s baby (and Sophie’s sobriety) had made Sophie her “favorite” child for the time being. For Sophie’s entire life, she’d known Ida to be the favorite—so it was nice, for once, to be thought of for things as ordinary as lunch and a bit of shopping.
“I’d love to,” Sophie said.
Katrina picked Sophie up at twelve thirty. In the car, she hugged Sophie and prattled on about what was going on athome. Apparently, Sophie’s father hadn’t had good luck trading on the stock market that week, which affected the mood in the house.
“Of course, your father never stays in one of those moods for long,” Katrina said as she parked the car outside the café. “He’s always one good meal from returning to his normal self.”
