“CHRISTMAS?”
Once upon a time, if Marcus went away for work, I’d barely have noticed. It’s amazing how quickly things have changed. He was gone less than forty-eight hours this time, but I felt his absence so keenly it was as if he’d moved to another planet.
“Earth to Abby,” Marcus teases me, and I blink and shake myself. We’re cuddled together in bed—in my bed, where we always sleep these days. Last night I slept curled around his pillow just so I could smell him. Right now, I’m lying naked over his bare chest and he’s playing absentmindedly with my hair.
“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask him.
He shifts me gently off his chest and onto a pillow, so that he can look at me as we speak. I try to tuck myself back into the crook of his neck, and he holds me off with a pointed frown.
“What’s up with you tonight, Abs? I said, I know you were hoping to go home early, and I’m sorry I can’t take any extra time off. Did you tell your mom yet?”
“I rang her tonight.”
“Was she upset?”
“Strangely, no,” I say, and then I frown. “Actually, now that you mention it, she was really odd on the phone. She was giggling and carrying on. I thought she might have been drunk or something, but you know Mom—she rarely drinks.”
“Christmas spirit, probably,” Marcus says lightly, and he brushes my hair back from my face as he asks, “Did she say anything else?”
“Just that she was looking forward to seeing us. Actually, Marcus.” I look past him. I can’t meet his gaze while I say this. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I don’t want to tell them.”
“Tell who what?” he says softly.
“Our parents. Families. I don’t want to tell them about...” I wave a hand between us vaguely. “About this.”
Marcus’s eyes widen ever so slightly.
“Uh, why not?”
“Lots of reasons.”
“Such as?”
“Did you want to tell them?” I frown at him. Marcus shrugs.
“They’ll probably notice when we’re fawning all over each other.”
“Then we won’t,” I suggest, and Marcus gasps.
“Oh, now you’re going too far,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t keep my hands off you for four whole days. That’s a completely unreasonable request—I’m only human.”
“I’ll meet you in the tree house, then,” I mutter. “For fawning-all-over-one-another top-ups as required. But I don’t want...” I don’t know how to explain myself, and Marcus’s playful smirk gives way to a frown.
“Abs,” he says cautiously. “What’s going on?”
I draw in a deep breath.
“I don’t want to tell them. I don’t want the scrutiny, or the pressure or the expectations. Okay?”
I glance at him hesitantly, but his eyes have narrowed.
“You’re not having second thoughts about this, are you, Abby?” Marcus asks me. The intensity in his voice surprises me.
“I just think it would be easier if they didn’t know yet.”
“But you’re still into this? Into me? You’re sure you love me?” he asks me, and I blink at him.
“Are you kidding me?”
Marcus cups my cheek in his hand, and he stares right into my eyes as he whispers, “I need to know where your head is at. If you’re having second thoughts, you need to tell me. Because I’m not having second thoughts, Abs. I’m all in.”
“I’m into this, Marcus,” I say wryly. “You were gone for one day and I was beside myself. I’m not sure how much more ‘into this’ I could be.”
He flashes me a relieved smile, then kisses me sweetly before he asks, “So what are you worried about, sweetheart?”
“We’re only going to be there for four days. Can’t we just keep this between us until after Christmas?”
He stares at me, and the silence stretches. He’s not going to drop it. I fumble for the right words and start to fluster under the growing concern in his gaze. I gnaw at my lip, and then finally blurt, “Your mother, Marcus. Lindy is going to be all blah blah blah get married and even blah blah blah give me a grandbaby. I love you and I would shout it from the rooftops...except for Lindy. But only because she’s going to lose her mind, and I just know that you’re going to hate it. Can you imagine how you’d feel if she knew things had changed between us and she was nagging at you to propose? God, she’d be talking wedding cake before you even finished telling her we were together. It would be awful for you.”
Marcus opens his mouth, and then he starts to laugh. I frown at him, but the laughter bubbles up and he can’t seem to stop. He laughs so hard that tears well in his eyes and he rolls away from me, his whole body shaking.
“What?” I frown at him, then thump him in the shoulder. “What!”
“No, no.” He holds up his hand, then wipes his eyes as he turns back to me, the chuckles fading. “You’re completely right, that’s exactly what she would do. God, how awkward—what a nightmare. Yeah—good idea, let’s keep it between us. I’ll text Luca and Austin tomorrow and tell them to keep their big traps shut, too.”
He’s saying the right words, but he’s still chuckling. I’m scowling at him now, and he grins and takes me into his arms, flipping me onto my back. “You’re so cute when you try to make my life easier for me.”
“This is funny to you?”
“You’re funny to me.” He grins, then he brushes his lips over mine. “Less talk, more kissing.”
WE’RE IN THE car on the way to Syracuse on Christmas Eve. I’m resting my hand on Marcus’s thigh as he drives. He’s put some irritatingly jazzy Christmas carols on and he’s drumming against the steering wheel. Every now and again, he glances at me and he grins, and it makes my heart dance. I focus on the light in Marcus’s eyes and the smile that seems permanently fixed on his lips today.
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask him. Marcus grins again.
“Christmas spirit. What’s gotten into you? You’re freakishly quiet.”
I shrug and go back to looking out the window. I’m a bit nervous about our charade—whether or not it will somehow be blindingly obvious to every member of our families that things between us have changed. I mean, if Luca could see it, surely our mothers will. But I’m also feeling a bit off, and I ponder this for a while as we sit in holiday traffic. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but then a dull thud starts in my lower abdomen.
I haven’t paid any attention to my cycle lately, and I forgot to note down the date of my last period because things with Marcus went crazy around the same time and I was distracted. But I think that was five weeks ago—or was it six? For sure, my period is due but...period pain? I don’t get period pain. It must be something else.
“I think I’m getting sick,” I say after a while, and Marcus frowns.
“You’re kidding.”
I shake my head and grimace at him, motioning toward my stomach with my hand.
“I just feel really strange.”
“Do we need a bathroom, honey?”
I ignore the fact that we’re sitting in a ten-mile-long traffic jam discussing emergency toilet trips and let myself enjoy the way he says the word honey. He uses endearments all of the time now, casually, like they just trickle off his tongue when he talks to me. I thought I’d be getting used to that by now, but I’m not, and the word sends pleasant shivers down my spine—momentarily distracting me from the thud in my abdomen.
“No, no... I’m just warning you. We might.”
“Well, that’s bad luck. I really hope you’re not sick for Christmas.”
“I know.” It’s Lindy’s turn to host Christmas. That means Mom and Dad will host breakfast, Lindy will be making lunch and Austin apparently arrived last night and has prepared a meal for tonight, plus he’ll rework tomorrow’s leftovers into a magical second-chance feast. There’s twenty-four full hours of delicious food ahead of me. I slump a little at the thought that I might not feel up to eating it.
“Just let me know if you need to stop. Or a drink or something, okay? Anything you need, honey, just say the word.”
I thank him and go back to watching the traffic and listening to the carols. The traffic is heavy most of the way, and it’s just before 5:00 p.m. when we finally arrive. Marcus parks in his parents’ driveway, and then we glance at each other.
“How are you feeling?”
“Still off,” I say, but I’m understating the severity of it. The pain has only intensified over the drive, taking my breath away at times. I’m starting to think I might need painkillers, and more than that, I’m worried that something else might be going on. Still, I’m so glad to be home, and I don’t want to concern Marcus too much, so I smile as convincingly as I can manage as I add, “I’m okay.”
“You ready for this?”
“Yeah.”
“One last kiss?” he whispers, and he leans toward me, just as the driver’s side door flies open behind him and Luca flashes a knowing grin at us as he whispers, “Happy Christmas, lovebirds.”
“Hi, Luca,” I say, a flush creeping over my cheeks as I hastily sit away from Marcus. “Come to carry the bags for us?”
Marcus laughs softly and slides out of the car to hug his brother.
“Great to see you, little bro,” Luca says, leading Marcus toward the house. “Austin and Mom have been cooking all day. Come get some food.”
WE SETTLE INTO Marcus’s family home after the bags are unpacked. Everyone is in a buoyant, jovial mood—they’re all almost hysterically excited for some reason this year, and I can’t help but get swept up in it. Lindy insists I take a glass of champagne. I nurse it and watch the bubbles rise, but I can’t bring myself to drink it—instead, I’m wondering if I need to bite the bullet and find some painkillers. I decide to look for a subtle moment to disappear into the kitchen to find some, but Jack has had a few beers already and keeps hugging me, and Mom and Dad are holding hands and singing terrible, off-key duets of Christmas carols and they keep trying to drag me into song with them.
“I think you two are embarrassing the family enough without my help,” I assure them, but then Austin shows me some of the amazing food he’s created, and while we’re talking, Luca winks at me and I flush, thinking about the awkward request I made to him just two months earlier. At some point, Luca is going to tease me about that in front of our parents. I wonder how long it will take, and I make a mental note to beg him not to do it just yet, at least until I have a chance to talk to Mom.
Despite the revelry, the pain in my abdomen doesn’t let up and it starts to spread to my back. I excuse myself, duck into the bathroom, then sneak into Lindy and Jack’s kitchen to help myself to some painkillers. Mom finds me there, and she gives me a surprisingly tight hug. I can smell wine on her breath, and my eyebrows rise as I remember that giggly phone call a few weeks ago.
“Since when do you drink, Mom?” I ask her cautiously, and she laughs.
“Lindy bought this fancy champagne—she said it cost a fortune, but it all tastes the same to me. We started celebrating a few hours before you got here, so I guess I’m probably tipsy by now. Don’t try waking me up at 5:00 a.m. like you used to when you were a kid.”
“What was the hug for?” I ask her, giving her an uncertain smile.
“You just seem...” She hesitates, then smiles softly. “You just seem so happy, Abby.”
“I am,” I say, confused. “But I’m surprised you noticed. I’m not feeling great.”
I reach up into the cupboard for the painkillers, which are just where they always were—in a labeled box marked Medicines–General, beside two smaller boxes labeled for each of Marcus’s parents. I pop two painkillers out of a packet as Mom asks, “Headache?”
“Period pain, I think,” I mutter. I’m sure that’s what it is, although why I’m suddenly getting it for the first time in my life today of all days, I have no idea.
“You get pain these days, love?”
“No.” I reach for a glass of water and down the tablets, then add, “Not generally.”
“I was the same.” Mom rubs my shoulders slowly. “You got my lucky genes, I guess.”
I think about the early decline to my fertility and smile sadly.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“The only time I can ever remember having pain at all was the month I fell pregnant with you. I thought something was drastically wrong, but it passed within a day or so,” Mom says vaguely, and she turns back toward the door. “Well, if you need to head off to bed, I’m sure Marcus would walk you back to our place.”
I laugh softly.
“Mom, I’ve crossed that park a million times on my own at night. I don’t need an escort.”
Mom gives me a funny smile as she leaves the kitchen, and then I’m alone, and her words sink into my brain.
The only time I can ever remember having pain at all was the month I fell pregnant with you.
I walk stiffly to the bathroom, close the toilet lid and sit. I pull the phone from my pocket and check the dates. Why the fuck didn’t I note down my last period? Then I scroll all the way back through my IM messages to Marcus and find the one where I told him we hadn’t made a baby.
November 15.
Huh.
I slip the phone back into my bag and stare at myself in the mirror. I’m pale, and I look exhausted and kind of scared. But I can’t think about this now; it’s Christmas Eve. Surely I can wait a few days and see if my period turns up. I splash my face with water and return to the party, but when I step through the doorway, all I can see is Marcus.
He’s chatting quietly with Luca, and he looks so happy and content. I stare at him silently—watching as he nods and the chocolate curl flops forward onto his forehead. He pushes it back in that gesture I’m so familiar with—one that I find inexplicably endearing these days.
He catches me staring and winks. But suddenly, I can’t wait to find out if my suspicions are correct about my mysteriously delayed period. I need to know right now if everything is about to change between us again. He rises and approaches me, and he asks me softly, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. Can I take the car?” I ask him, and he frowns.
“Of course,” he says. “But I’ll come. Where are we going?”
“Ah, no.” I give an uneasy laugh. “I forgot part of your present—just need to run down to the grocery store.”
As soon as I hit the ignition button on the car, his jazzy Christmas carols fill the air and I curse and flick the stereo off. At the department stores, I jog through the crowd of last-minute shoppers to the medicines aisle and I pick up a variety of tests. There’s a huge line of people waiting at the checkouts, so I have plenty of time to read the backs of the boxes while I’m waiting to pay. The instructions say the tests are more accurate if taken first thing in the morning, so I tell myself I’ll wait and do it after I sleep.
But I’ve bought a bunch of different tests just in case, and the moment I leave the checkout I make a beeline for the bathroom. I’m nervous, which I guess is normal. Maybe what’s not quite as normal is that I’m shaking so hard I can barely manage the whole “pee on a stick” process.
As the three agonizing minutes tick down before the results are ready, I live out a thousand scenarios in my mind...and every single one of them is terrifying for one reason or another.
I’ve dreamed of being a mom for so long, but now that the possibility is right in front of me, am I actually ready for the dream to come true?