Chapter 1

“My fiancée might be pregnant, and I think it could finally solve our biggest problem.”

I read the title sitting on the cold bathroom floor, my back against the tub and my phone loose in my hand.

The post had been updated twenty minutes earlier.

He had used only first names. He did not need surnames.

He wrote about a color-coded wedding spreadsheet. A job interview on Tuesday. A woman who wanted to talk through every decision before she agreed to it.

My thumb stopped moving.

“My fiancée might be pregnant. She has an interview on Tuesday for a job that would mean a few trips every month.”

My breath caught.

I scrolled to the comments.

“She has not even taken a test. Why are you talking about her job?”

The OP: “Because if she is pregnant, taking a job that keeps her out of town makes no sense.”

“Maybe she still wants the job.”

The OP: “She wants a lot of things. A bigger wedding. More time to decide. This job. But if there’s a baby, someone has to stop pretending every choice is still open.”

“And you’ve decided that someone is you?”

The OP: “I’m the one with the job that pays our bills. I’m not trying to control her. I’m trying to keep us from making a stupid decision because she can’t let go of a plan.”

“Have you even asked her what she would do?”

The OP: “She’ll say she needs more time. She always does.”

Then I read his next reply.

The OP: “Tessa says Lauren gets upset first, then comes around. She thinks I need to stop backing off every time Lauren turns a practical conversation into a fight.”

Tessa had used those exact words over wine two weeks ago.

My thumb froze over the screen.

I had opened the forum after my third trip to the bathroom that night, looking for something bland enough to settle my stomach.

Instead, I found Grant and Tessa deciding what pregnancy would take away from me.

I rinsed my mouth, then made it back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, my phone still in my hand.

The bedroom door opened quietly. Grant walked in carrying a steaming ceramic mug of warm water.

“Did you throw up again?” he asked softly, sitting on the side of the mattress. He took the cold ginger ale from the nightstand and replaced it with the mug. “Sip this slowly. It’ll help the cramps.”

He reached down, picked up my phone charger from the floor, and clicked it into my phone without a word, laying the device face down on the table. His movements were easy, practiced, and full of everyday care.

Then he paused, his thumb lightly brushing against my knuckles.

“Lauren,” he said, his voice dropping into that careful, quiet tone. “Is there a chance you’re pregnant?”

I didn't answer. I looked into his eyes, searching for something dishonest and finding only calm, steady relief.

“If it’s true, we’ll handle it,” Grant said gently, squeezing my hand.

He paused, watching my face.

“We don’t have to make the wedding a whole production,” he said. “We could do something small. Just family.”

Another beat of quiet hung in the room.

“And your interview on Tuesday,” he murmured, gently brushing a stray hair from my forehead. “You can move it. If there’s a baby, there’s no point taking on something you’ll just have to rethink.”

First came the warm water and the charger. Then the wedding. Then my interview.

He said it as if he were offering to carry a grocery bag. As if my job had already become something we would set aside.

Grant drew back just enough to look at me.

“If it’s true,” he said, “we should get our parents together tomorrow. Just dinner. We need to start thinking like a family.”

“I don’t think we should—”

His phone was already in his hand.

“Mom,” he said as he typed. “Can you and Dad do dinner tomorrow? Nothing to worry about. We just want to talk.”

The reply came before I found a way to finish my sentence.

Of course. We’ll be there.

Grant looked up at me, relieved.

“There,” he said softly. “Now we don’t have to carry this alone.”

He had not asked me. He had simply made the first move and trusted that I would fall into step behind him.

I picked up my phone and turned it over.

The forum thread had refreshed with a new comment from the author:

“I don’t want to lose her. I just think once there’s an actual baby involved, she’ll stop second-guessing everything. We can finally move forward.”