CHAPTER 68: HATTIE
When he finally came back, a week later, I met him at the door before he could even knock. He dropped his bag and pulled me into his arms, holding me like he’d been waiting for that moment since the second he left. “You look good,” he murmured against my hair. “So do you,” I said, smiling. “Tired, but good.” He laughed softly. “You ready for tonight?” My stomach twisted. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Dinner with his parents. To tell them. The drive out to their house was quiet, the sun dipping low behind the trees. I kept my hands folded in my lap, my heart thudding. Preston reached over, lacing his fingers through mine.
“They’re going to love you,” he said. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” I admitted. He glanced at me, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “It’s going to be okay.” His parents’ house sat on a hill just outside town, the porch light glowing warm against the twilight. His mom, Faye, opened the door before we even reached it, her face lighting up. “Preston!” she said, pulling him into a hug. Then she turned to me, smiling. “And you must be Hattie. I’ve heard so much about you.” I smiled, trying to steady my nerves. “All good things, I hope.” “Mostly,” she teased, leading us inside. Dinner was easy at first—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, laughter that came naturally. His dad, Conrad, told stories about Preston as a kid, and I found myself laughing more than I expected. But as the plates cleared and the conversation slowed, I felt the shift. Preston caught my eye, his expression soft but certain.
He reached for my hand under the table. “Mom, Dad,” he said quietly. “There’s something we need to tell you.” Faye’s smile faltered slightly. “Okay…” He took a breath. “Hattie’s pregnant.” The words hung in the air, heavy and still. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Faye blinked, her eyes wide. “Oh.” Conrad set down his glass. “Well,” he said slowly, “that’s… big news.” I felt my pulse in my throat, my fingers tightening around Preston’s. “I know it’s a lot,” I said softly. “We just found out last week.” Ellen looked between us, her expression softening. “Are you two… happy?” Preston nodded. “Yeah. We are.” She exhaled, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Then that’s what matters.” Tom leaned back, studying us for a moment before nodding. “Guess I’m going to be a granddad.” The tension broke then, replaced by something lighter. Faye reached across the table, taking my hand. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’re family now.” Tears stung my eyes. “Thank you.” Preston squeezed my hand under the table, his smile quiet but full.
Later, when we stepped out onto the porch, the night air was cool and still. The stars were just starting to appear, scattered across the dark sky. Preston slipped his arm around me. “Told you it’d be okay.” I leaned into him, my heart finally steady. “You were right.” He kissed the top of my head, his voice low. “We’re really doing this, Hattie.” I looked up at him, smiling through the tears that threatened again. “Yeah. We are.” And for the first time, it didn’t feel terrifying. It felt like the start of something good.
The waiting room smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee. I sat beside Preston, my hands folded tightly in my lap, trying not to fidget. The soft hum of conversation and the rustle of magazines filled the space, but all I could hear was the steady thud of my own heartbeat. Preston reached over, his fingers brushing mine. “You okay?” I nodded, though my stomach was a knot. “Just nervous.” He smiled softly. “It’s just a checkup.” “Yeah,” I said, exhaling. “Just a checkup.” When the nurse called my name, we followed her down the hall.
The doctor was kind, her voice calm and reassuring as she went over everything—bloodwork, vitamins, what to expect. It all felt surreal, like I was watching someone else’s life unfold. At the end, she smiled. “We’ll schedule your first ultrasound for next week. You’ll get to see your baby for the first time.” The words hit me like a wave. Your baby. Preston squeezed my hand, his eyes soft. “Next week,” he said quietly, like he was trying to make it real. When we left the office, the sun was bright, the air crisp. We sat in the truck for a while, neither of us starting the engine. “So,” he said finally, “we should probably talk about what happens next.” I looked at him. “You mean where we live?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I can’t keep flying back and forth forever.” I stared out the window, watching the wind move through the trees. “I don’t want to leave here,” I admitted. “My work, my family, Maisie… everything’s here.” He nodded slowly. “I get that. But my job’s in Chicago. My whole life’s there.” The silence stretched, heavy but not angry. Just uncertain. “I don’t want to make you give up everything,” I said softly. He reached over, brushing his thumb across my hand. “And I don’t want to make you give up everything. We’ll figure it out. Together.” I smiled faintly. “You keep saying that.” “Because I mean it.”