Chapter 3

When the doctor handed over the transvaginal ultrasound report, her face was serious.

"The embryo implanted too low. It's dangerously close to your previous scar tissue. Continuing this pregnancy is highly risky."

I stared at the blurry shadow on the screen, unable to speak.

The doctor softened her tone.

"It's best to have a family member here to help you make a decision. Do you want to call your husband?"

I opened my mouth, only to realize that the only name I could give was Eamon.

My parents passed away when I was young. I had no surviving blood next-of-kin.

It wasn't until I married Eamon and put him down as my sole emergency contact that I finally felt like I had roots in this world.

But now, as the doctor asked for my family, my fingers turned to ice against the paper.

Walking out of the clinic, I stood on the steps and called Eamon.

It went straight to voicemail.

I sent him a text: I need you to come home. It's urgent.

I took an Uber back to our downtown condo.

In the entryway, a pair of pink ballet flats sat on the rug.

In the living room, Cecily was curled up on our sofa.

One of her legs was propped up on our coffee table, the hem of her skirt riding dangerously high up her thigh.

Her ankle was wrapped tightly in an elastic bandage.

Eamon was kneeling in front of her.

His fingers pressed along the arch of her foot, working the muscles with professional, patient soft-tissue manipulation.

"Rolled it during rehearsal?" he asked.

"Messed up my landing." Cecily let out a delicate gasp that sounded entirely too much like a moan.

She pouted, her voice turning soft and whiny. "Eamon, am I going to be benched for another two weeks?"

"Your fascia is really tight. Don't rush getting back on stage." He gently squeezed her ankle. "Does it hurt?"

"Yeah," Cecily murmured, her eyes curving into a smile as she looked at him. "But it hurts less when you're here."

"I'm here," he said.

Those two words.

Since the night of our wedding, I had hardly ever heard him say them to me.

Another sharp cramp twisted in my lower abdomen.

I gripped the edge of the console table, my knuckles turning white.

Eamon finally looked up and saw me.

"Where have you been? You look awful."

I opened my mouth to say, I went to the clinic today.

But Cecily let out a loud sigh first.

"Linnea, please don't get the wrong idea! I couldn't even put weight on my foot. Eamon was just worried about me taking a cab alone, so he brought me here to tape it up."

I didn't look at her.

I kept my eyes on Eamon. "I need to talk to you."

Before he could answer, Cecily suddenly hissed. "Eamon, my toes are tingling."

He immediately looked down, checking her ankle joint again.

His voice dropped, suddenly incredibly gentle. "Hold still. Your ligaments are vulnerable right now. Give it a second."

I stood frozen in place, gripping my purse strap.

I tried again. "Eamon, can you take me to the hospital?"

Cecily grabbed his wrist. "Did I get a hairline fracture? It's throbbing so bad."

Eamon frowned at her foot.

He didn't even look up at me as he spoke. "Linnea, if you're feeling sick, just go lie down. I'll take you as soon as I'm done here."

"Never mind."

I turned and walked into the master bedroom, shoving the ultrasound report into the very bottom drawer of my vanity.

Later that night, Eamon knocked on the bedroom door.

"The mattress in the guest room is too firm, it'll mess up Cecily's back. Let her rest in our bed for a while. You can take the guest room for tonight."

I opened the door.

Cecily was already walking into the master bedroom with a glass of warm water.

She sat right down on the edge of my bed and reached to open the nightstand drawer, looking for pain relief patches.

The bottom drawer of that nightstand was exactly where I had hidden my ultrasound report.

I pressed my hand against the drawer. "Don't dig around. I'll get it for you."

But Cecily's fingers had already brushed against a different compartment.

She pulled out an unopened box of birth control pills.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Still playing it this safe after being married for so long?"

She looked pointedly at Eamon.

"I thought you hated dealing with these. You always said you never planned to have kids in this lifetime."

Eamon's face tightened. "That's enough."

"Did I say something wrong?" Cecily's smile didn't fade. "You said it yourself. If you were ever going to have a baby, it would only be with me."

The room suddenly fell dead silent.

I looked at Eamon.

He avoided my eyes.

All these years, he always handled the contraception so I never had to worry about it.

I used to think he was being considerate.

Now I realized he had just been making the choice for me all along.

My stomach cramped violently again.

I leaned against the edge of the nightstand, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.

I pulled the ultrasound report out from the bottom drawer and walked step by step toward the hallway.

"Linnea, where are you going?" he asked from behind me.

I didn't look back.

Where else?

To take care of a baby he never planned to have, and now, would never have the right to know about.