Page 30 of Broken Vows

“Your aunt Lilly would be so excited about you,” I tell my belly. “If she’d just answer her damn phone.”

It’sstrange how time works–how moments that once seemed impossible slowly become your new normal. Like Jeremy’s work boots by the front door every morning, or his toothbrush back in the bathroom holder. Not in its old spot, but in the spare holder I bought at Target last week. Little boundaries, invisible lines, we both respect.

Three weeks can change everything.

He started sleeping on the couch after that particularly bad Tuesday when I couldn’t stop throwing up. “Just to help,” he’d said, looking uncertain with his pillow tucked under his arm. Now it’s become our routine. Every morning, he folds the blanket neatly over the back of the couch before heading to work. Every evening, he unfolds it again, settling in for another night of being my on-call morning sickness support.

The garbage cans are always lined with fresh bags. The ginger ale in the fridge never runs low. When I stumble to the bathroom at 3 AM, I often find him already awake, ready with a cold washcloth and quiet support. We don’t talk about how he seems to sense when I’m about to be sick before I do. About how easily we’ve fallen back into orbiting each other’s lives.

Sometimes I catch him staring at the ultrasound photo on the fridge, his expression soft in a way that makes my heart ache. Sometimes he catches me watching him stare, and we both look away quickly, pretending we don’t notice how domestic this all feels.

We haven’t told his parents yet. Haven’t told anyone, really. It’s like we’re living in this bubble where only three peopleexist–him, me, and this tiny raspberry-sized person we made. The pregnancy books pile up on the coffee table–his medical ones mixing with my more holistic guides. We’re learning this dance together, this careful choreography of co-parenting while divorced. Of building something new from the ashes of what we lost.

Tonight, like every night lately, I listen to him settling on the couch below my bedroom. The familiar creek of springs, the soft rustle of blankets. Close enough to help if I need him, far enough to remember why he’s not beside me instead.

My hand rests on my still-flat stomach, and I wonder if the baby can sense how complicated this all is. If they know that their parents are trying so hard to get this right, even if we got so much wrong before.

We’re not together. We’re not apart. We’re just… here. In this space between what was and what will be. Taking it one day at a time, one craving at a time, one shared smile over a raspberry-sized revelation at a time.

And somehow, it works. For now, it works.

Chapter Nineteen

The doorbell catchesme in the middle of my afternoon cracker snacking and-nap routine. I walk towards the door and open it.

Lilly stands on my porch, looking smaller somehow. Her usually perfect hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she’s wearing oversized sweats–something I’ve rarely seen her do in public.

“Hi,” she says when I open the door, her voice rough like she’s been crying. “I’m sorry I’ve been… gone.”

I want to be angry. Want to demand where she’s been, why she disappeared when I needed her most. But she looks so broken standing there that I just step aside and let her in.

We end up in the kitchen, where I’ve spent most of my time lately thanks to constant nausea. The silence stretches between us as I make us some tea.

“Zeke and I broke up,” she finally says, staring into her mug. “About three weeks ago.”

“Oh, Lil.” The anger I felt melts away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugs, and I notice how her shoulders curve inward. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t talk to anyone. Could barely get out ofbed some days.” Her voice cracks. “Eight years together, and suddenly it’s just… over.”

I reach across the table and take her hand. It’s cold despite the warm mug she’s holding.

“I was embarrassed,” she continues. “Here you were going through your divorce, being so strong about it, and I couldn’t even handle a breakup. Then when I heard about the baby…” she trails off, blinking back tears.

Her hand drifts to her stomach in a gesture so familiar I almost miss it. Almost.

“Lilly?” My voice comes out barely above a whisper.

She meets my eyes, fresh tears spilling over. “I’m pregnant too.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Found out right before… before everything fell apart with Zeke.”

“Oh, my god.” I squeeze her hand tighter. “Does he know?”

She shakes her head, wiping her eyes. “I tried to tell him, but… it was already over. He’d already decided we wanted different things.”

Something flickers across her face when she says this, gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

“That’s why I couldn’t face anyone,” she says. “Couldn’t pretend to be okay when everything was falling apart. And then hearing about your pregnancy…” She stops, swallowing hard.

“How far along are you?”

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