Page 79 of Drunk on You

“Blood work shows high levels of hCG.”

“The IUD fell out.”

“It rarely happens, but it’s possible.”

Dr. Bowen’s words play on repeat in my head as I lie on the medical table and she pushes a wand into me to do a transvaginal ultrasound to confirm what all signs point to—I’m pregnant.

She clicks around on the computer and then turns the volume up. And like in every movie and book with a plot twist of an unexpected pregnancy, I hear the whooshing of my baby’s heartbeat.

She walks me through everything on the screen while I try my best not to cry. I’m due in May. The heartbeat is strong. It’s recommended I start taking prenatal vitamins. I need to schedule my next appointment.

As I walk out of the doctor’s office, I’m so lost in my head that I don’t see the car coming around the corner as I step into the street.

He honks, and I jump.

I’m physically okay, but mentally … I drop onto the edge of the curb and sob.

I’m pregnant. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to become CEO of Kingston. Prove to my dad that I’m capable of running the company.

Yet I’m pregnant. I glance down at the ultrasound picture, and my heart swells because despite this being unexpected, I already love the baby growing in my belly.

Which sucks because I can’t have both the company and the family. My dad tried that, and look how it turned out. And I can’t become my dad. I refuse to.

But also, Julian is so much like my dad, so what will that mean for us? Will I become my mom and he, my dad? Will we grow apart while I beg for attention? Will our child crave his love and affection, only to be given breadcrumbs of what they deserve?

While I’m sitting on the curb, crying, wondering what I’m going to do, a text comes in from Julian’s mom, Helen, confirming dinner tonight.

We haven’t seen them since the barbecue, so when she reached out, inviting us to dinner, we, of course, said yes. Now, I’m regretting it. Hanging out with the woman who resembles Mary Poppins, Martha Stewart, and Paula Deen is not at the top of my list of things I want to do right now.

Since the day is almost over, instead of going back to work, I head home and take a nap. I wake up several hours later to Julian asking if I’m feeling okay and if we should cancel dinner.

“I’m okay,” I tell him, sitting up. “Just give me ten minutes to freshen up.”

When we arrive at his parents’ place, I take in the small but homey-looking house. The front yard is neatly trimmed, and a flower bed with blooming flowers wraps around the house. On the porch are two wooden rocking chairs that I can imagine Helen and Frank rocking in while having their morning coffee.

The inside is even warmer. The walls are filled with family pictures from holidays and vacations. The furniture is clean but well lived in. Unlike the home I grew up in, which screamed wealth and opulence, this home screams love and family.

Helen wraps me in a motherly hug, and I get choked up, missing my mom like crazy—wishing she were here to confide in. She probably wouldn’t have the answers I’m looking for since she died trying to figure out her love life, but at least she would be here to support me.

“While the guys watch the game, do you want to help me make Julian’s favorite dish?” she offers, zero judgment in her tone.

I nod because it’ll probably be good to learn how to cook something, and she’s the only person I know who can help me.

“Mom, Ana doesn’t like to cook,” Julian says, trying to get me out of it.

“No, it’s fine,” I tell him. “I’d like to learn how to make your favorite dish.”

He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Really, babe? You hate sports that much that you’d rather cook?”

“Go away,” I say playfully, pushing on his chest.

He grabs my hands and pulls me in, giving me a quick kiss before he disappears out of the kitchen, and I’m left wondering what will happen to us once he finds out about the baby. We’ve never discussed having a family—well, aside from the time he jokingly said he wouldn’t mind having a couple of mini versions of me running around.

It’s only been us and the company. I don’t even know if he wants kids … oh God. What if he doesn’t want kids? He was counting on me to keep us safe, and my stupid IUD failed. It’s not my fault, but that doesn’t change the fact that he might not see this baby as a good thing.

Will he divorce me and leave me as a single mom? Will I be forced to choose between my husband and my baby?

My hand protectively goes to my flat stomach, knowing there would be no choice. I would choose this baby every time. I shake all the thoughts from my head, refusing to give in to what-ifs. Thinking about them all could drive a sane person crazy.

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