Page 67 of Pregnant in Plaid
"He was being nice. Showing me around so I don't feel like a complete outsider."
"He made you hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and told you stories about the town for three hours. That's not being nice—that's courting."
"People don't court anymore."
"Trace does." She singsongs.
I tear off a piece of my croissant and shove it in my mouth to avoid responding. Because she's right. Trace has been nothing but thoughtful and patient and kind. He leaves snacks out for me when I have midnight cravings. He massages my back without me asking. He reads pregnancy books when he thinks I'm asleep.
And yesterday, walking around Ashwood Falls with him, listening to him talk about the town he loves with such obvious pride and affection—I felt something shift. Something that went beyond attraction or gratitude.
Something terrifying.
"I'm scared," I admit quietly.
Tessa reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "Of what?"
"Of everything. Of falling for him when this wasn't the plan. Of staying here and losing myself. Of leaving and wondering what if. Of being a mom when I have no idea what I'm doing." My voice cracks. "My parents aren't here to help. I don't have a job. I don't have an apartment. I don't have anything figured out, and I'm supposed to bring a whole human into the world in six weeks."
"You have me," Tessa says firmly. "And Gage. And Trace—whether you’re ready to admit how much or not."
"But what if?—"
"What if you're happy?" she interrupts. "What if this is exactly where you're supposed to be? What if the plan changed, but the new plan is actually better?"
"I don't do well with changing plans."
"I know. But maybe it's time to try." She squeezes my hand again. "Look at me. I was supposed to marry Kyle and live in Florida. Instead, I'm marrying Gage and staying in Alaska. My plan got completely derailed, and I've never been happier."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because you chose it. I got... surprise pregnant and have nowhere else to go."
"Is that really why you might be staying? Because you have nowhere else to go?"
I open my mouth to say yes, because that's the safe answer. But it's not true, and we both know it.
"No," I whisper. "I might be staying because every time I think about leaving, something in my chest physically hurts. And I don't know if that's love or fear or pregnancy hormones, but it's there."
Tessa smiles. "That's love, honey. Scary, messy, inconvenient love."
We finish lunch and decide to walk around downtown Anchorage for a bit. Well, Tessa walks. I waddle. There's adifference.
We pass a baby store, and Tessa grabs my arm. "Can we go in? Just to look?"
"We're just looking," I agree. "I can't afford to actually buy anything right now."
Famous last words.
The store is full of tiny clothes that have no business being that cute. Onesies with little animals on them. Sleepers with feet. Hats that look like they belong on woodland creatures.
"Look at this," Tessa says, holding up a onesie that says "I'm proof Mommy and Daddy didn't just Netflix and chill."
I laugh. "That's terrible."
"It's amazing. You have to get it."
