38

EVERLY

 

EVERY MORNING FOR A WEEK, he left coffee on my doorstep. He

never texted, but there was always a driver outside too. My heart bleeding

out happened in snapshots.

A snapshot of him driving her to work.

A snapshot of him leaving work to walk to dinner with her at the hotel.

Snapshot after snapshot.

He didn’t try to talk to me anymore though, and I didn’t try to talk with him. But neither of us brought signed divorce papers to the other’s doorstep.

We couldn’t pull the trigger.

My mind was tangled up in other things, especially the moment I got the phone call from an unknown known number as I got home from work.

“Everly, so glad I caught you. I don’t know how this slipped through the cracks, but I’m checking your medical charts, and I know you said you

were on birth control at your first visit, but when we did that bloodwork, everything looked great except that, well, you don’t have to try for a baby.

You’re already pregnant.”

“I’m sorry?” I gripped my counter. “What?”

“I know. I was surprised as well. Rings are quite effective as birth control, but there’s still about nine in a hundred women who get pregnant.

Have you gotten your period?”

“No.” I knew it’d been probably three months without it. I just hadn’t worried. “But the doctor said I would be irregular once coming off birth control and—”

“Well, that about confirms it.” The woman sounded excited even as I felt like I was about to faint, about to have my life completely changed. “We’ll have you come in for a test to see how far along you are. We’re so sorry we missed that with all the genetic testing we were doing, our new staff must have overlooked putting that in your MyChart. What day works

best for you and Mr. Hardy?”

“What day works best?” I repeated, in total shock. No day worked best.

We weren’t having a child. We couldn’t be. We’d been protected at that

time. There was no way I was having a baby.

Except I was. And Declan had told me he didn’t loved me. We had divorce papers in our possession. He was driving Anastasia around. For all I

knew, he could be sleeping with her by now.

“Would Friday at 3 p.m. work?”

“I can come Friday,” I said in a monotone as my heart galloped away, trying its best to catch up and pump blood through my veins like it felt me

slipping. My vision blurred, and I sat down. “I’ll be there Friday,” I

repeated again and hung up.

I sat there for hours. I didn’t reach for the phone. Didn’t reach for the TV remote. I simply sat with tears streaming down my face as I considered

how I could make this work on my own. I vowed never to tell him. I vowed

to raise my child in love, and I knew forcing Declan to stay in this marriage

wasn’t what either of us wanted.

Plus, Andy was coming. I knew he would.

And when your past catches up to you, you don’t run. You fight it off and make sure the blowback doesn’t injure the ones you love around you. I

needed to handle this on my own so my baby and I could have a clean start.

Declan had been right to leave me behind. He’d been born in love, wrapped in it, secured by it. His family was the epitome of love.

I was born into a home where my mother worked diligently to provide for me and teach me that I could only rely on myself in the world. I longed

for love and went looking for it, not knowing I was looking in all the wrong

places.

I wouldn’t do that to my child. So I signed the divorce papers and went to sleep clutching them as I sobbed.