Page 72 of 7+Us Makes Nine

“I haven’t yet, no,” I said.

“Do you think you will?”

“I’m not sure. Is that something I can do?”

“Catherine…”

“That wasn’t a dig. I promise. I’m sorry if it came off like that. But, Hannah. If my parents find out, then she will. Are her and Anya still…?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. But at this point, I can’t worry about it. I’ve hired the best lawyers and I know they’ll protect our family. We can’t keep allowing her to dictate our every move on this. Not anymore. We need to be celebrating and preparing and rejoicing.”

Oh, how my heart soared to hear him say that. I was almost six months into my pregnancy and things were getting hard. I couldn't bend over to do laundry anymore, so that was a chore Jace had to take on. The kids were ecstatic about having a new brother and sisters, especially Michaela. She kept wanting to play dress up and have tea parties with me, saying she was already bonding with her sisters. And the boys? They were a mess. They were already picking out clothes for their brother to wear home and ‘donating their toys’ to their nurseries so they would have things to play with, too.

And every night, the kids kissed my stomach before going to bed.

“I think you should call them and tell them,” Jace said as he sat down next to me. “I think you’ll feel better knowing you aren’t hiding it from them.”

“What if they react poorly?” I asked.

“Then I’ll be here to help you through it. I’ll even take the phone from you and put them in their place. But I know this is taking a toll on you, not telling them. So, for you? I think you should do it.”

“Will you sit here with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

I’d been bouncing back and forth with the idea ever since Jace and I had made up and found equal footing with everything. I felt bad, not telling my parents I was pregnant. But at the same time, did they have a right to know? After everything we had been through and the hell they put me through during my childhood, did I want them to know?

The little girl inside of me did. The optimist that hoped my children would bridge the gap between myself and my family hoped they would be happy for me.

“Hello?” my mother asked.

“Hey, Mom. It’s me,” I said.

“Catherine? Is everything all right?”

“Why would something be wrong?”

“Because you never call,” she said.

My heart sank to my toes to hear my own mother say that.

“Everything’s fine,” I said.

“You don’t sound fine. What’s wrong? Do you need something?”

“Who is that, honey?” my father asked.

“It’s Catherine. She sounds upset.”

“I’m not upset, Mom.”

“Ca

t, what’s wrong?” my father asked.

“Could you put me on speakerphone?” I asked.

I heard a small click before the call started to echo.

---