Page 101 of For Her Own Good

All of this adds up to me desperately wanting to tell Lowry about the baby, but also being absolutely terrified to. What would be worse, if he stayed or if he left? If he stays, will I always worry that it’s because of the baby and he feels trapped? That wouldn’t do anything to improve my mental health. What if that’s why my mother killed herself? It’s not as though I can ask her what the final straw was. And fuck all, what if it was me? Not good, not good at all.

And if he left…

Well, I know precisely what that’s like. I’d be devastated. I don’t think I could live through that again. Not after all this. Not after he gained my trust, coaxed me into handing over the deepest, most vulnerable parts of myself, letting me believe he valued and adored them. This meltdown is probably making him think twice about being with me. And adding a baby—a squalling package of need who’s likely to grow up like me? No, I can’t tell him. Can’t. Yes, he’ll find out eventually, but I don’t need to tell him yet. Not yet. I’ll get through this Garrett acquisition and be a slightly smaller disaster and then tell him. We can be rational people and discuss this rationally. And if he leaves…

I don’t honestly know.

“Star?”

Right. I’ve been sitting here, lost in my dark thoughts. The least I can do is say something, anything.

“Yeah?”

“I hate to do this, but I need to use the bathroom. I won’t be long, promise. Can I get you something while I’m up? Tea? Whisky? Tuna and Doritos or some other vile concoction? Anything?”

The idea of one of Lowry’s hot toddies makes my brain happy but my stomach miserable. Though I do appreciate having a few moments to collect myself, to strengthen my resolve, basically get any of my shit together at all.

“Tea, please.”

“Course. I’ll be right back, love.”

Love. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice the absence of that word when he was telling me why he was here. Would it have made a difference if he’d said it? I can’t imagine it would’ve had much of an effect, but the lack certainly didn’t ease any of my doubts.

And so I’ll sit here with my asshole depression brain shouting lies I can’t silence, the rational part of my mind being cowed by anxiety, and hell, fucking hell, doubting everything in the world as the man I love walks away from me.

Chapter 34

Starla

“Thankyou for squeezing me in, I know you’re busy.”

“Thank you for calling. I’d always rather have you call than not, you know that.”

I do. Makes it a titch easier to do the thing, but not a ton. Which is why I look down at my nails—still with their fancy paint job from my meeting with Garrett—instead of volunteering more to Doctor Gendron about why precisely I’m here.

“So, what’s up?”

She’s so good about giving me an extra prod when I need it.

“I told you about the anxiety on the phone. It’s maybe the worst I’ve ever had, and you know that’s not nothing. And I feel like with all the shit that’s going on with my father’s company—”

“You know it’s yours now, right?”

“Fuck all, do I ever,” I mutter.

“I’m not pointing that out to add more pressure. I’m pointing it out because you’re doing extraordinarily well given the pressure cooker you’re in. I’m very proud of you, and I’m very proud that you’re asking for help when you feel like you need it.”

Her kind words make my eyes sting and my sinuses burn because she is one of the people I respect and trust most on the planet. She wouldn’t lie to me. She’s never spoon-fed me sugar when things are going to hell, which is why I listen when she says things are going well.

My only response is “yeah, okay,” because it’s still hard for me to take a compliment, no matter who it’s coming from.

“So, anyway, there’s all that, on top of my job, and yesterday I found out…”

Oh, not looking forward to telling her I’m pregnant. Partially because I haven’t told her I’m seeing anyone, never mind who it is I’ve been seeing. She’s going to have some questions. But she can’t help me if I don’t tell her. I know from a quick internet search that ECT is really safe in pregnancy, that sometimes people switch to ECT instead of meds for that reason. But I don’t know much more than that. I sure as fuck don’t have a medical degree. My father may have been able to get me into med school, but I’d probably still be finishing given how long it took me to finish my undergrad degree.

“I’m pregnant. Like not far along I don’t think, but yeah.”

I wait for the judgment, for the “how could you,” but aside from an extra blink it doesn’t come.

---