Page 53 of 15 Summers Later

Both of them definitely did. Cullen had talked about taking a baby hiking with him, going on nature walks together, Christmas mornings and birthday dinners and first days of school.

Both of them loved children and somehow had become the honorary babysitters among their friend group when the other young married couples needed a night out.

Cullen was wonderful with children of all ages. He had a knack for teasing a smile out of the crankiest of toddlers, at knowing how to persuade a finicky preschooler to eat, at being able to nap on the sofa with a sleepy baby in his arms.

She wanted to be pregnant. And she wanted his child. A vast yearning opened up somewhere deep inside.

She imagined a baby with his long lashes and that little dimple in its cheek as it gave a toothless smile, chubby arms flailing.

They had decided starting their family should wait until they were more settled, until his assistant professor job was more secure and they could buy a house near campus, something small with a backyard and an office corner for her to use for writing.

One of the many reasons she had agreed to the unexpected publishing offer when it came her way had been for that very goal. With some of the substantial advance she was being offered and perhaps subsequent royalties, they would be able to reach their goal more quickly and could start their family now, instead of waiting a few more years.

As much as she wanted a child, right now seemed the worst possible timing. Would she and Cullen even be able to reconcile after this summer? She had no idea. He had beenrockedby the autobiography and the vivid reality she had painted of their experiences during those long months with the Coalition.

She pressed a tentative hand to her belly. She didn’t want to believe it, but somehow as the seconds ticked by and the pieces slotted into place, the idea didn’t seem completely radical.

Even before Cullen left, she had been queasy, much sleepier than normal, with roller-coaster emotions and achy breasts.

She couldn’t know yet. In the morning, she would rush to the drugstore for a test so she could have more to base the information on than the suspicions of a veterinarian, however well-meaning Luke might be.

She closed her eyes. If she found out she was pregnant, she would have no choice. She would have to go up to Ghost Lake so she could tell Cullen. If they were going to have an unexpected child, he needed to know as soon as possible. She couldn’t hang around town, waiting to tell him until she bumped into him again at the farmers market.

How would she make it up into the mountains? When she and Madi left, she had never wanted to return.

One step at a time, she told herself. That was the very basic mantra that had helped them find the courage to leave, knowing the risks and dangers ahead of them.

Simply focus on doing the next right thing. That’s what her mother had always told her.

With one last shaky breath, she dried her hands on the towel and walked out of the powder room to find Tilly alone in the big kitchen, transferring brownies and cookies from various plates and pans to make an assortment on one tray.

Ava hadn’t had the chance to speak alone with the woman since arriving at the house. Now she wished she had stayed in the bathroom longer so she could have avoided her.

She had nothing against Tilly. She was a kind and generous woman, lovely inside and out.

But she also had become a widow because of Ava.

She forced a smile, which Tilly returned with a warmth that made Ava’s throat feel tight.

“How are you, my dear?” Tilly asked, her gaze concerned. “You seem under the weather. Are you ill?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Only tired. It’s been a busy few weeks.”

“I can only imagine.”

She smiled as she set a few more cookies on the platter. “I’m absolutely thrilled your book is doing so well. It’s all anyone in town wants to talk about.”

“Is it?”

Tilly nodded. After careful scrutiny, her expression slid once more into one of concern. “I hope you’ll forgive me saying this, but you don’t seem tremendously thrilled by the response. I would have thought you would be over the moon to know your words are having such an impact.”

Right. Like a meteor plummeting to earth, causing her marriage to implode along with it. And now she might very well find herself a single mother in eight months or so.

She made a raw sound that seemed to scorch her larynx, but she managed to conceal it with some judicious throat clearing.

“It doesn’t seem real, to be honest. I’m still trying to figure out what happened.”

“What happened,” Tilly said sternly, “is that you wrote a lovely book filled with pain and sadness and truth that still somehow manages to resonate with hope and joy.”

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