CHAPTER 69: HATTIE
That night, we drove out to my parents’ house for dinner. I’d been dreading it all week—not just because of the news we had to share, but because Maisie and Wes were coming too. When we walked in, the smell of steaks and herbs filled the air. My mom hugged me tight, her eyes lighting up when she saw Preston. “It’s so good to finally meet you,” she said warmly. Maisie and Wes were already at the table. She smiled when she saw us, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—curiosity, maybe, or quiet understanding. Dinner started off polite, careful. My dad asked Preston about his work, Wes talked about the bakery, and I tried to keep my hands from shaking. Finally, when the plates were cleared and the conversation lulled, Preston glanced at me. I nodded. He cleared his throat. “There’s something we wanted to tell you all.”
My mom looked up, smiling. “Oh?” I took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” The room went still. My mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, Hattie…” My dad blinked, then smiled slowly. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Maisie’s eyes softened, and she reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “Congratulations,” she said quietly. Wes smiled too, nodding. “That’s great news.” The tension that had been sitting in my chest all evening finally eased.
My mom stood and came around the table, pulling me into a hug. “A baby,” she whispered, her voice thick. “You’re going to be a mom.” I laughed through the tears that had started to fall. “Yeah. I guess I am.” Preston stood beside me, his hand resting gently on my back. My dad clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “You take care of my girl, you hear?” “Yes, sir,” Preston said, smiling. The rest of the night felt lighter. My mom started talking about baby names before dessert, my dad poured another round of whiskey, and Maisie leaned over to whisper, “See? Not so bad.” I smiled at her, my heart full. “Not bad at all.
When we finally left, the stars were bright above us, the air cool and still. Preston slipped his arm around me as we walked to the truck. “You did good in there,” he said softly. “So did you.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Next week, we see our baby.” I looked up at him, my chest tight with something that felt a lot like hope. “Yeah,” I whispered. “We do.”
The bell above the bakery door chimed as I stepped inside, the familiar scent of sugar and butter wrapping around me like a blanket. The morning rush had just ended, and the place was quiet except for the hum of the ovens and the soft clatter of trays. Maisie looked up from behind the counter, her face lighting up. “Well, look who it is! I was just thinking about you.” I smiled, slipping off my jacket. “Thought I’d come lend a hand. You look busy.” She laughed, brushing flour off her apron. “Always. Grab an apron—there’s dough that needs rolling.”
I tied one on and joined her behind the counter. For a while, we worked in easy silence, the rhythm of baking settling between us. The smell of cinnamon rolls filled the air, and I felt something I hadn’t in days—calm. “So,” Maisie said after a while, glancing at me. “How are you feeling?” I smiled faintly. “Better. Still tired all the time, but I guess that’s normal.” She nodded. “It is. You’re glowing, though. You look happy.” I paused, pressing my hands into the dough. “I am. Mostly.” “Mostly?” she asked gently. I sighed. “Preston and I still haven’t figured out where we’re going to live. He wants me to move to Chicago, but… I can’t imagine leaving here.” Maisie nodded slowly. “You’ve built a life here. It’s not easy to walk away from that.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “But he’s got his job, his whole world there. I don’t want to ask him to give that up either.” She smiled softly. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” Before I could answer, the bell over the door chimed again. I looked up—and there he was. Preston. He looked out of place in his pressed shirt and city shoes, but when his eyes found mine, he smiled. “Hey.” Maisie wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she said, slipping into the back room. Preston walked over, his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t expect to find you here.” “I told you I was helping Maisie today,” I said, turning back to the counter. He nodded, watching me for a moment. “I wanted to talk before I head back.” I froze. “You’re leaving already?” “Yeah. I’ve got meetings tomorrow.” Something in me tightened. “You just got here.” “I know,” he said quietly. “But I can’t keep missing work, Hattie. I have responsibilities.” I set down the rolling pin, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. “And what about this? What about me? The baby?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out. I can’t just walk away from my job. It’s not that simple.” “And it’s not simple for me to leave everything here,” I shot back. “My family, my work, my friends—this is my home.” He looked at me, frustration flickering in his eyes. “So what, you expect me to just move here and start over?” “I don’t expect anything,” I said, my voice trembling. “I just thought we’d find a way to meet in the middle.” He exhaled, the tension between us thick.
“I’m trying, Hattie. But I can’t make promises I don’t know if I can keep.” The words stung more than I wanted to admit. “Maybe you should go,” I said quietly. He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I’ll call you when I land.” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He turned and walked out, the bell above the door chiming softly behind him. For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at the spot where he’d been. The smell of cinnamon and sugar suddenly felt too sweet, too heavy. Maisie came back out, wiping her hands. “You okay?” I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.” She didn’t press, just handed me a tray of cookies to decorate. We worked in silence again, the air thick with unspoken things.
That night, when I got home, the house felt emptier than usual. I sat on the couch, one hand resting on my stomach, and whispered into the quiet, “We’ll figure it out. We have to.” A week felt like forever. But when Preston came back—for the ultrasound—I knew everything would change again.