Page 74 of Hearts Like Hers

Autumn hadn’t told anyone about thepregnancy. She had, however, taken four more tests, and all had produced afaint second line. After celebrating on her own for the rest of the day,comping drinks for her favorite customers, humming a little tune as she worked,that joy had shifted pretty quickly to abject terror.

What the hell had she been thinking,venturing out to be a single mom? That had been a crazy idea, and now what wasshe supposed to do? There was no going back. The deed was done. She would devotethe next eighteen to twenty-two years raising someone who would likely wind updodging her calls and cursing her name. Oh, God! What if she turned into hermother? Vicky was awful, but what if somehow (and okay, she wasn’t sure quitehow) Autumn was even worse?

She didn’t sleep the next couple of nights.Instead, she’d lain ramrod straight in bed, clutching her sheets, andenvisioning all the ways she could screw this up.

Tonight, she’d given up on sleep altogetherand sat at her kitchen table, reminding herself of all of the reasons she’d setoff down this path, and of her long-standing desire to be a mother, to enrichher own life and someone else’s. The rationalization had worked, and slowly butsurely, she came to understand that her excitement still existed beneath thethick blanket of fear. She’d had a temporary freak-out about a major lifechange. That was all.

“So, what else is new?” she asked herkitchen, which she was apparently talking to now.

The takeaway floated to her like a feather inthe breeze. She closed her eyes and smiled as serenity returned. She was goingto be okay. In fact, she would be better than okay. She would be the happiestversion of herself in just nine short months. The internal pep talk had donewonders, though the late nights had added up, leaving Autumn exhausted andbleary-eyed when she headed in for her official blood test that next morning.She was powering through the workday and fighting off the exhaustion when thecall came that she wasn’t pregnant.

The world came to a screeching halt.

“I don’t understand,” Autumn said to thenurse on the other end of the line. “Are you sure?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

She shook her head, trying to keep up. “Itook an at-home test. Four of them. Two lines on all of them.” There was no waythis was happening.

“The reason we advise against testing priorto your official blood test is that often the trigger shot might still be inyour system and can produce a false positive.”

“The trigger shot,” Autumn repeated blankly.She hadn’t known it could do that. The stupid shot had supplied the extra line.All the excitement and celebration and fear and excitement all over again hadbeen for nothing.

The world dimmed.

“I am so sorry.” The nurse said the words asif they were the most delicate of objects, each one capable of breaking andshattering Autumn. And each one did. “Why don’t you take some time and give usa call when you’d like to move forward.”

Move forward? As in start all over at thebeginning again? She tried to imagine that as everything in her mourned forwhat would not be. There was no baby. Just Autumn and her sad little life, onceagain. “Well, thank you for calling,” she said, tears strangling her voice.

It was all she could manage.

* * *

Two days later, as her friends trickled intothe shop for breakfast, Autumn kept her head down and assembled their variousdrinks. Focusing on tasks, any kind of busywork, helped occupy her mind andkeep her emotionally afloat. “Hey, Cody?” she asked her new employee, a surferkid with shaggy blond hair and a tendency to drum on every surface heencountered.

“What’s up, A-Dawg?” He glanced up from hissolo on the nearby bar stool.

“Would you put four old fashioned donuts on aplate and take them to the table my friends are sitting at over there?”

He glanced over at the women and seemedcaught off guard. On alert now, he straightened and took a moment to smooth hiseyebrows, then toss his hair. Oh, Cody. He had no idea of his uphill battle.

“Who’s the new kid?” Isabel asked severalminutes later, admiring the foam Autumn had shaped into a sun just for her. “Heasked me for my digits. Who says ‘digits’?”

“Cody does. He might write you a songcomposed entirely of drumbeats.”

Isabel’s jaw fell. “My lifelong dream.”

Autumn tried to laugh, but it never quitemanifested itself. She felt Gia’s eyes on her. She and Hadley exchanged a look.

“Autumn, you doing okay? You’re notyourself,” Hadley said. “Nervous about the results?”

It was now or never. “I have the results. Itturns out that I’m not pregnant. At least not this go-round.” She tried tosound hopeful, strong, so they wouldn’t know what a pitiful basket case shewas. She was over her repetitive role as the sad, vulnerable friend. Shereached for a donut as the table sat silent. “What?”

Her friends glanced around the table at eachother. “I think thatfuckingsucks,” Isabel said, setting her drink down. This time Autumn did smile. No oneput things quite like Isabel.

“It does,” Gia said. “Just wasn’t the right time,I guess. Like you said. Next round.”

“Definitely,” Autumn said, nodding.Underneath it all, she didn’t know if there would be a next round, if she wasup for it.

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