I do the mental math. It’s a rough estimate, but I’m pretty sure I’m over two weeks late.
“Okay,” I rasp. “A doctor might be a good idea.”
“You think?” Lana replies dryly.
I hurl into the toilet again.
* * *
I’m alone in the doctor’s office. Lana, Isabella, and Felicia were told to wait outside. As much as I need some support right now, it’s probably for the best. It’s cramped in here as it is, and the walls feel like they’re creeping in closer and closer with every passing second. Seated on the examination table, all I can do is fiddle with the loose thread at the edge of my sweater’s sleeve, silently willing my heart to calm down.
Unconsciously, I start rubbing my belly in a circular motion. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I think I know the answer even without the doctor’s confirmation. I remember feeling this way when I was pregnant with Felicia, a nervous excitement bubbling through my veins. Could it be? And if it’s true, am I ready to do this alone?
Again.
I grind my teeth, fighting desperately to keep my eyes from welling up. Dominic is out there somewhere. I can feel it. I refuse to let myself believe he’s well and truly gone. He can’t be dead. He justcan’t.
The doctor steps in, chart in hand. She gives the test results a quick scan. “It seems congratulations are in order. All your tests came back positive.”
Even though I’m not as surprised as I should be, the air rushes out of my lungs all the same. I don’t know what to make of all the emotions swirling around inside me.
Joy, excitement, wonder.
Fear, anguish, loss.
I’m obviously ecstatic knowing I’m with child again. The thought of Felicia having a little brother or sister to grow up alongside makes me hopeful for the future. I want nothing more than to fill my home with the sound of my children’s laughter and shower them with all the love I’m capable of giving.
But I don’t want to do it without Dominic. Once was hard enough. This is too much to bear.
So I weep, sobbing heavily into my palms as cold reality sets in. No matter how much I hope and pray, the signs aren’t looking good. Dread and doubt tear through me until I’m hollow. There’s an insidious voice in the back of my head that won’t stop repeatingDominic is dead.
The doctor shifts uncomfortably. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Wilson? Would you perhaps like to discuss your options?”
I manage to pull myself together long enough to shake my head. I wipe my eyes with my sleeves, my tears darkening the fabric as they soak into the threads. “N-no, thank you. I’m ok. Just a little overwhelmed.”
Gathering my coat, I shakily make my way out to the waiting room. Lana, Isabella, and Felicia are already standing, talking in hushed whispers to a man I recognize.
“Johnny?” I breathe. “What are you doing here?”
He dips his head respectfully. “Ms. Wilson. I’m afraid I have bad news.”
I shake my head. That look on his face… There’s only one thing he could be here to inform me of. “No,” I whimper. “No, no,no.” My head spins. I’m not anchored to my body.
“We have ears within the police department,” he goes on, his face dark and grim. “They found a… body.”
It’s a good thing I’m at the doctor’s office because I’m about to be sick.
“It’s been sitting in the morgue for a few weeks now. They fished it out of the Hudson, but it was so bloated they had difficulty identifying the deceased. They were, however, able to recover this.”
Johnny turns his phone around and shows me a picture. The quality is blurry, taken in dim lighting as if the photographer was trying very hard to be discreet and avoid detection. Between my trembling hands, my teary eyes, and the poor image quality, it takes me a few seconds to make sense of what I’m looking at.
It’s a clothing label stitched to the back of a suit jacket.
Marina’s.
The special label I made for Dominic and Dominic alone. It reallyishim.
Grief overwhelms me. In the span of thirty minutes, I’ve gone from getting the best news to the absolute worst. My heart is a shattered, broken thing.