Page 52 of The Bonus

But I will never be okay, my heart has been broken beyond repair.

If I never date another man for as long as I live, I will be happy. I don’t know what headspace I’m in, but it’s like I’m purposely trying to torture myself.

I’m listening to “Someone Like You” from Adele on repeat.

As the plane hurtles down the runway, I silently wipe my tears.

The lyrics about finding someone else hit different this time.

I screw up my face in tears, if only.

8

Grace

I sit in the waiting room with my handbag on my lap, my knee bouncing up and down with nerves.

Please let everything be okay.

At first, I didn’t want to be pregnant, but now that I’ve got my head around it, having a healthy baby is all that I want. I’ve got this feeling that because I was so against this in the beginning that now I’m going to be punished. Maybe that’s just mom guilt starting early.

I didn’t tell Deb that my appointment was today, I wanted to come alone. She can’t be at every doctor’s visit and I’m sure this first one is just standard practice, and besides, I need to get used to doing things alone.

The doctor walks out of his office with a folder in his hand, he’s around forty-five, with salt-and-pepper hair, he has a kind-dad vibe. “Grace Porter?” He looks around and smiles when he sees me stand. “How are you today?”

“Good, thanks.” My heart is beating like a drum and I walk past him into the office and take a seat at his desk.

He sits down and opens the file and reads it. “Congratulations. You are…” he pauses as he reads on, “…twelve weeks and five days pregnant.”

I clutch my handbag with white-knuckle force. “Yes.”

His eyes rise to meet mine. “A planned pregnancy?”

“Yes,” I lie.

He keeps reading. “And what about the father, is he excited?”

“I was artificially inseminated.”

His eyes rise to meet mine. “At what clinic?”

“In New York at the Chelsea Fertility Clinic,” I reply without missing a beat. I’ve done my research and that’s all he should need to know; he has no legal reason to contact them.

“Fantastic.” He smiles. “This baby is a gift.”

“Yes.” I force a smile, feeling guilty for lying.

“Okay,” he replies. “Let’s do an ultrasound, hop up onto the bed for me.”

I lie down and pull my T-shirt up.

“This will be a little cold.” He squirts gel onto the end of the ultrasound wand and holds it over my stomach.

Silence.

He moves it around and pushes the wand deeper into my stomach.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

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