Page 32 of Room 1003

There was nothing exactly sexual about the paintings, they weren’t inappropriate, but there was an intimacy I was trying to capture. Clasped hands, a bared throat. They were images from my dreams—and also my reality. And I couldn’t paint fast enough.

It wasn’t until I heard the sound of the front door slamming and Kit’s excited voice that I finally emerged from my fever dream. I lowered my brush and looked around blearily, my eyelids like sandpaper, as if I hadn’t blinked in hours.

“Hi, Dad!” Kit shouted at me on his way past the office door.

“Hey, gimme a hug, buddy,” I called after him, and he scampered back in to give me the fastest hug ever. “Where are you in a hurry to?” I asked, snagging him by the back of his shirt to hang onto him for a moment longer.

“I was making a drawing in school, and I didn’t have time to finish it. Can I go draw, please?”

Who was I to argue with that, since I was in the same frame of mind? “Okay, go on then. I’ll call you for supper.”

As Kit slipped out, his feet padding down the hall to his room, my dad appeared in the doorway. “You’ve been busy today. Do you mind if I take a look?”

I waved a hand at the canvases set along the floor to dry. “By all means. Let me know what you think.”

He was silent as he examined them first from a distance, and then he leaned in, checking out the details from up close. Finally, he turned and looked at me with an odd sense of wonder, his eyes a bit glassy. “These are… your best work,” he said. “Like,ever.”

The relief I felt had my breath leaving me in a whoosh. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding and coming over to me. “Like, gallery good. This might be worth putting together an actual show, if it’s something you think you’d like to do.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but maybe?” I said, shrugging and rubbing a hand over the back of neck. I couldn’t wrap my head around that yet, it was still too fresh. I needed some time and distance to get perspective. “I was just trying to put my dreams into tangible form, you know?”

Dad chuckled. “If these are your dreams, I’m surprised you ever get out of bed.”

I laughed, my cheeks heating. “What can I say? Maybe I’ve been staying up too late or eating too much cheese before bed. I’ve heard that can cause really vivid dreams.”

“Or maybe you’re…” Dad pinched his lips shut, cutting his thought off midway.

“Maybe I’m what?” I asked, coaxing him to finish the thought.

He tucked his hands into his pockets and drew in a deep breath, his smile wistful. “I was just thinking that I had really vivid dreams when I was pregnant with you…”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I stood there, my mouth gaping as I took in what he was suggesting. Could I be pregnant? Dad didn’t say anything else, just walked out and left me alone with my thoughts, but I heard him leave the house, and when he came back ten minutes later, it was with a bag from the pharmacy. I took the bag from him wordlessly, without meeting his curious gaze.

While I wanted to take the pregnancy test straight away, I forced myself to wait. I made dinner, chatting with Kit about his day. I cleaned up and did the dishes. And all the while, I simply let the possibility linger in my mind. Pregnant. What would I feel if I was? Fear, excitement, and yes, an obscene amount of joy. Maybe more importantly, I thought about the regret I would feel if Iwasn’tpregnant. I realized my mind was already made up.

At last, when Kit was getting ready for bed, I picked up my phone. I’d missed a few texts from Ben, asking me how my day was, letting me know he was thinking about me. My heart fluttered in my chest like a caged bird. No matter the outcome of this test, I knew it was something I didn’t want to do alone. I texted,Can you come over tonight?

He replied back mere seconds later:I thought you’d never ask.??

It was a deep dark outside by the time Ben knocked softly at the front door. I opened it even before he’d lowered his hand, his knuckles still extended in the air. “Hey,” he said in that deep baritone, his whole body melting in relief at the sight of me, but then his smile stuttered. “Is something wrong?”

He could read me so well. My chuckle wavered. “That depends on you, I suppose.” I passed him the box for the pregnancy test and let him put two and two together.

“Really?” he asked. I nodded, and he said, “Am I allowed to be excited about this?”

“Yes, please,” I whispered, happy tears pooling in my eyes.

He moved through the doorway and swept me up in his arms, closing the door behind him and carrying me upstairs. “We’re in this together. It’ll be okay,” he whispered in my ear.

No, it would be better than okay. It would be great.

Five minutes later, we were staring down at the little window, the plastic stick shaking in my hand as we watched first one line appear… then a second. “Oh, fudge,” I whispered, clutching Ben’s hand in mine, both of us grinning like fools. “I’m pregnant.”

“Is this a good time to tell you I love you?” he asked.

I nodded, tears dripping down my cheeks. “It’s the perfect time. I love you too.”

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