Love the One You Hate

Our boys joined our family—they’re ours, officially—but pregnancies proved more difficult. We’ve tried and failed. All we have to show for it is a dozen empty prenatal pill bottles, a mountain’s worth of negative pregnancy tests, and years’ worth of painful disappointments.

I wonder if all that is behind us now. I can’t help but hope.

Nicholas doesn’t know I took a pregnancy test last night.

Even though I know it’s futile, I still keep a few on hand just in case.

My period never came two months ago, but I didn’t get excited. I didn’t even let it faze me. But then it didn’t come again last month or this month either, and so I finally allowed myself to take a test last night.

Two pink lines crisscrossed before my eyes and I started laughing so hysterically I couldn’t stop. My laughter turned into tears. I took another test and it proved as positive as the first one, which means I’m somewhere around twelve or thirteen weeks along—pregnant after so many years of trying—and Nicholas doesn’t know.

He won’t find out until tonight.

“What do you two have planned for the evening?” Cornelia asks.

Nicholas winks at me. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Cornelia and I lock eyes, and she shrugs. “Sorry, I tried.”

I laugh and shake my head. “It’s fine. I knew he wouldn’t let it slip anyway.”

She stands and reaches to take the newspaper from the table so she can finish reading it out in the garden, where I’ll join her once Nicholas leaves to go sailing with the boys. I love spending our summers here at Rosethorn. I love soaking up every precious moment I have with Cornelia, and I find myself secretly hoping the baby growing inside me is a little girl we can name after her. I want it so badly I can barely manage a breath.

“Are you okay?” Nicholas asks, drawing my attention.

“Fine.”

“You’re teary-eyed.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Allergies.”

He doesn’t quite believe me, and his expression proves it.

“You’re not telling me something.”

I huff out a laugh. I mean, honestly, I’ve kept a secret from him for less than twenty-four hours and already I’m crumbling?!

I shoot to my feet as Patricia comes into the room to start clearing breakfast. “It’s nothing.”

Nicholas’ brows shoot up. “Nothing?”

“Yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

I take off running toward the stairs, knowing full well he’ll get up and chase after me. I make it up and around the second-floor landing and halfway down the hall toward our room before he finally catches me.

“Don’t!” I squeal, losing myself to a fit of laughter as he hauls me up and off my feet.

“Tell me what you’re hiding.”

“Not until tonight.”

“I’ll find out.”

I mime my fingers turning a lock over my lips.

He smirks deviously. “There are ways I could convince you.”

Then he drops a kiss to my lips and continues on like that all the way to our room. I’m putty in his hands, now more than ever.

I know the boys are waiting. They’re likely already down at the front door with all their sailing gear, but for a moment, it’s only Nicholas and me in our room as he shuts the door and locks it behind us.

“Maren,” he murmurs, kissing a trail down the side of my neck. “We don’t keep secrets.”

“You’re the one who won’t tell me what we’re doing tonight,” I protest teasingly.

“I’d tell you if I thought you actually wanted to know,” he insists.

I laugh as he tosses me back on the bed and comes down to press his weight against me, holding me captive.

“Well, can’t you see that I might want to surprise you too?”

“I’m not a patient man. If you have a gift for me, I want it now.”

He takes each of my hands in his and pins them onto the bed, then he sits up to look down at me. I have no doubt I look like a mess with my hair spilling out around me and no makeup on yet.

He stares down at me as adoringly as ever.

I try to break out of his hold but he tightens his grip, his wedding band biting into my wrist almost painfully.

“Nicholas,” I say, catching his attention and drawing it back up to my face.

Our eyes lock and I’m reminded of that boy in the portrait. I wonder if our son or daughter will have raven hair as dark as his. A tear slips down my cheek, and Nicholas’ expression turns troubled. He loosens his grip slightly, making to move off of me.

“I’m pregnant.”

It’s such a startling revelation, words I never thought I’d be able to say aloud. I’ve said the word plenty of times—she’s pregnant and she’s pregnant and she’s pregnant—but never I’m pregnant. Never us. Not until now.

Nicholas doesn’t move a single muscle. I think I’ve royally shocked him.

“Say something.”

He shakes his head subtly, back and forth. “Tell me again.”