CHAPTER 86: HATTIE
CHAPTER 86: HATTIE
At the clinic, everything blurred together—the waiting room, the nurse’s questions, the blood tests. They said they’d check for the flu, maybe a stomach virus. I just wanted to go home. When the doctor came back, she had a strange look on her face. “Well,” she said gently, glancing between us. “It’s not the flu.” Preston frowned. “Then what is it?” She smiled softly. “You’re pregnant.” The room went silent. I stared at her, the words not sinking in. “That’s… not possible,” I whispered. “I took a test. It was negative.” “It may have been too early then,” she said kindly. “But there’s no mistake now.” I turned to Preston. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, like he was trying to process it too. Pregnant. Again. My heart raced, a mix of fear and disbelief and something else—something fragile and trembling that I didn’t dare name yet. Preston reached for my hand, his grip steady. “We’ll get through this,” he said quietly. And for the first time since the fever started, I let myself believe him.
The drive home from the clinic was quiet. The world outside the window blurred into streaks of gray and gold, but I barely saw any of it. My mind was somewhere else—caught between disbelief and fear, between the past and what was suddenly my future. Pregnant. Again. The words echoed in my head, heavy and fragile all at once. Preston’s hand rested on the console between us, close enough that I could feel the warmth of it.
He didn’t say much, just glanced at me every so often, like he was making sure I was still breathing. When we pulled into the parking garage, I didn’t move. I just sat there, staring at the dashboard. He turned off the engine. We got into the elevator and made it to my apartment door. “Do you want me to come in?” I nodded, because I didn’t trust myself to be alone. Inside, I sank onto the couch, wrapping my arms around myself. Preston sat beside me, careful, quiet. “I don’t even know what to think,” I said finally. My voice sounded small. “I thought it was close enough to my period. I thought—” He reached over, taking my hand. “We’ll figure it out, Hattie. Whatever you need, I’m here.” I looked at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but there wasn’t any.
Just calm, steady certainty. “You’re not scared?” I asked. “Of course I am,” he said softly. “But I’m more scared of losing you again.” That broke something in me. The tears came fast, hot and silent. He pulled me into his arms, and I let him. For a long time, neither of us spoke. When I finally pulled back, I wiped my eyes and managed a shaky laugh. “I can’t believe this is happening again.” He smiled faintly. “Maybe it’s the universe giving us another chance.” I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe this time could be different—that we could be different. Later that night, after he’d made sure I’d eaten something and tucked me into bed, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. My hand drifted to my stomach, still flat, still unreal. A new life. A new beginning. But beneath the flicker of hope, fear still lingered—fear of what could go wrong, of what I could lose again. Still, as I listened to Preston moving quietly in the kitchen, making tea I probably wouldn’t drink, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Peace. Maybe fragile, maybe fleeting—but real. And for now, that was enough.