Straight Up Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 2)

If hope alone were enough to make a baby, I’d have several dozen by now. I’ve peed on so many sticks in my life, and every single time I did it, the action carried so much desperate hope. I’ve come to loathe these stupid sticks. To me, they represent the bad news they’ve always delivered.

I can say with utter certainty that this is the first time in my life I’ve needed to pee on a stick and been totally unsure how I feel about it. How do I feel about a possible positive result?

I still want a baby. That is part of who I am, and it will never change. But now? Now I know I want Jake too, and I’m not sure how a baby will complicate our reunion. I want him back, and I know he’ll be a good dad, but what if he’s not ready for a child?

I pee on the tester and set it on the counter like I’ve done dozens of times before. And as I learned to do a year into my marriage, I set a timer on my phone and walk out of the room, determined not to look at it until the alarm goes off.

There are no three minutes longer than the three minutes you’re waiting for a pregnancy test to process. Except this time, they go too fast, and my phone is beeping at me and it’s time to go look at the results. Instead of hope turning my feet as fast as possible toward the bathroom, I’m scared.

I’m scared of the disappointment I know I’ll feel if it’s a negative again. And I’m scared of how my relationship with Jake will change if it’s positive.

I’m staring at the bathroom door, my arms wrapped around myself. “Is everything okay?”

I jump. I didn’t even hear Ellie come in. I exhale slowly. “I’m taking a pregnancy test.”

Her shoulders sag. “Finally. Oh my God, the wait’s been killing me.”

I shake my head and look away. “I want a baby, but it’s complicated now, you know?”

“I get it. But Jake adores you. Whatever you want out of this, wherever you want to go from here, he’ll make it happen for you. I know that without a doubt.”

I wrap my arms around my best friend and squeeze her tight. Ever since I left Molly’s house, I’ve been carrying this guilt about knowing a secret I can’t share and bracing myself for it to rock her world. “I’m so grateful for you.”

She rubs my back and whispers, “I’m grateful for you, too. Are you going to go look at that test now?”

I pull back and shake my head. “It’s not going to be positive. I’m jumping the gun with this. My periods are so all over the place that it’s hard to know when to test and when to wait.”

“So go look.”

I nod, but I stand still and stare at her.

She smiles. “You want me to do it for you?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She doesn’t skip a beat. She rushes into the bathroom and straight to the counter. She looks down at the test and freezes, staring at it.

“What?”

She turns to me, disappointment written across her face, and I’m not sure what that means.

I put my hand on my stomach. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Ava. It’s negative.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Of course it is. It was stupid to think . . .” My stomach cramps. So stupid. All the fear and uncertainty from minutes ago is washed away by a rush of disappointment. It’s too much, too heavy. Before I lived it, I never understood you could grieve for a child that never was.

I put my other hand on my belly over the first, close my eyes, and imagine what might have been. I imagine telling Jake about a baby. The joy in his eyes. He’d be an amazing father.

When I open my eyes, Ellie’s come closer. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” I swallow and look up at the ceiling. It would be really ridiculous to cry about this. “No. I’m not okay.”

“Oh, honey.” She wraps me in a hug, and even though I feel foolish for being sad about this, I love her so much for getting it. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

“Call Jake. Don’t hurt alone.”