Page 94 of Pregnant in Plaid
"I don't know. They just started." I wave her off. "Probably just Braxton Hicks. I've been having them for days."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." I force a smile. "I promise, if anything feels wrong, I'll say something."
She doesn't look convinced, but she sits back down on the couch. "Okay. But I'm watching you."
"Noted."
We spend the next few hours in careful conversation, avoiding the Trace-shaped elephant in the room. Tessa tells me about the wedding, about the funny moments I missed. About how Marnie from the general store got tipsy and started giving unsolicited marriage advice to everyone.
I laugh in the right places. Make the appropriate responses. But my mind is elsewhere.
Around nine, Gage declares he's heading to bed—meaning claiming the couch for the night—and Tessa starts yawning.
"You should sleep," I tell her. "You've had a long day."
"So have you."
"Yeah, but I'm going to be up half the night anyway. Might as well get comfortable with my insomnia now."
She hesitates. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. Go. Sleep. Enjoy your bed while you have it."
She hugs me carefully. "If you need anything?—"
"I'll wake you up. Promise."
She disappears into the bedroom, and I'm left alone in the living room doom scrolling on my phone. I wait until I hear Gage's soft snores from the couch where he's already settled in for the night, then I quietly grab my suitcase and wheel it to the bed, trying not to make noise.
The bedroom is small but cozy, with a king bed that takes up most of the space. Tessa's already curled up on one side, and I carefully lower myself onto the other, trying not to jostle the mattress too much.
But sleep won't come.
I lie there in the dark, one hand on my belly, thinking about everything that happened today. The fight. The things Trace said. The things I said.
The look on his face when I told him I was leaving.
I reach for my suitcase on the floor and pull out the tiny onesie I bought a few days ago at that baby store in Anchorage. It's white with a little bear on it, and when I saw it, I couldn't resist. It was so Alaska. So perfectly, ridiculously Alaska.
I hold it up in the dim light filteringthrough the curtains. It's so small. Hard to believe an actual human will fit into this in a few weeks.
My baby. Mine and Trace's.
The question sits heavy in my chest—what am I doing?
Running back to Florida? Back to a life that doesn't exist anymore? Lauren offered to help me get my old job, sure, but is that really what I want? Spreadsheets and quarterly reports and pretending the last two weeks never happened?
Staying here means uncertainty. A man who might love me or might just feel obligated. A tiny town in Alaska where I don't have a job or a plan or anything resembling stability.
The onesie presses against my chest. Terrified doesn't even begin to cover it.
Not of Alaska. Not of being a single mom. Not even of the uncertainty.
Staying and having it not work out—that's what keeps me awake. Letting myself believe in something good and watching it fall apart. That's the fear that makes my hands shake.
And there's more. The way Trace looked at me when I left—like I'd broken something fundamental between us—keeps replaying in my mind. He told me he loved me. Twice. And I essentially told him I didn't believe him.
