“I’ll get everything out and bring it over. This is so exciting.” She squeezes me tight, and I know she’s genuinely happy and excited for me.
Mom catches our attention. “You’re one hundred percent positive this is what you want to do?”
I nod. “I’ve thought about it a lot ever since Michael left. I know this must seem like it’s come out of the blue, but I promise it hasn’t. I’ve weighed up my options carefully, and I truly think this is what will work best for me.”
Mom steps toward me, wrapping me in her motherly embrace. “I completely understand, Baby Girl.” She smooths my bangs out of my eyes. “Once the baby’s born, don’t forget your father and I can help out with babysitting. That way you can go back to work at least part-time.”
“Thanks, Mom. Your support means the world to me. I’ll admit, I was nervous breaking the news to you guys.”
Creases form between her eyebrows. “Why would you worry? You know your father and I try our best to support you kids however we can.”
And now I feel like a shitty daughter because Idoknow that. “I’m sorry, Mom.” I hug her close, attempting to show her how sorry I am.
CHAPTER1
–sarah–
JUNE
Melanie’s namelights up my screen with a text.
Mel:I’m waiting …
Trust her to know my cycle. It only makes sense since we’ve known each other since kindergarten; we know most things about each other, and she knows how much I want this to work. The problem is that I’m not ready to tell anyone I failed again. Not even my best friend. After my second attempt to get pregnant, I’m still no closer to becoming a mom. The disappointment weighs heavily on my heart, and I’m terrified my dream may never become a reality. I blow out a heavy breath and pick up my phone.
Me:I got my period
I drop my phone back to the cushion beside me and take a sip of my wine. I’d been staying clear of the sweet goodness, but I needed something to help me commiserate my failure. Staring off into space, the doorway to the second bedroom mocks me. I don’t know when it became essential to me that I needed to have a baby; I just know it’s all I can think about. I’ve always wanted to be a mom. As a kid, I would always play mommies and daddies with my dolls and watching Em with her kids makes me realize I have this gaping hole inside of me. Sighing heavily, I blow out a long breath and sink into the plush cushion. My phone lights up again, and I read her messages without picking it up.
Mel:I’m sorry. I know how much you want this
My nose tingles and I swallow the lump in my throat.
Mel:I’m taking you out dancing tomorrow night. No arguments
I don’t want to go out dancing. At thirty-four, I feel so old when we go to clubs. I grab my phone, ready to make up some excuse when it rings. I press the green button and hold it to my ear. “Mel—”
“Don’t say it, Sare. No excuses. We’re going out dancing. There’s a new club with an over-thirties crowd.” Her tone is no nonsense.
“I’m really not feeling it. I just want to wallow. Let me wallow. Just this once,” I whine like a child.
She chuckles. “What sort of friend would I be if I let you wallow? Besides, you’ll be a mom before you know it, and then you won’t be able to go out and have fun with your bestie.”
I know she won’t relent, so I may as well save myself a whole lot of arguing and agree. “Okay. But I don’t want to be out late. I’ve got my shift at the hospital on Saturday morning.”
“I know, I know. I have my shift too. I promise to get you home before you turn into a pauper!” My long-time friend giggles. “See you tomorrow night. Mwah!”
I can’t help but chuckle too. She’s infectious. “Tomorrow night, Mels Bells.”
We end the call, and I take a long sip of my wine. I guess I should have dinner and finish crocheting the beanies I need to take with me on Saturday since I won’t be able to finish them tomorrow night. Climbing to my feet, I head to my poky kitchen, pull out the container labeled Thursday, and pop it in the microwave. As I wait for the timer to go off, I check whether the cupcakes I baked as soon as I got home are cool enough to pack into Tupperware. They are, so I quickly transfer them, then top off my wineglass and grab a fork out of the drawer. With my butt leaning against the counter, I allow my gaze to wander around my small apartment. Even though the space is compact and it’s not in the swanky part of town, I feel accomplished that I saved up enough money to buy it. I’ve always been great at saving money and working toward a goal. Even when I was a kid, I would save my birthday and pocket money until I had enough to buy something special. Which reminds me, I need to start saving again for more treatments. Not getting pregnant is going to set my plan back, but what else can I do?
The microwave dings so I grab my chicken masala and head back to the couch. I smile to myself, grateful that I didn’t have to cook dinner tonight with the way I’m feeling. The hour of meal prep I do every Sunday morning saves me a heap of time and money because I’m not tempted to grab takeout when I’m tired or work late or just feel blah. A little planning goes a long way, and it helps me to keep on track for my financial goals, too.
I had saved enough money for two rounds with the clinic in the hopes I would get pregnant, but no dice. Now I need to start all over again—another eight grand for two more attempts. If I don’t get pregnant by the end of those rounds, I’m not sure what my next step will be.
* * *
My tan patent heels clack across the stone floor as I make my way toward the elevator that’ll take me up to the forty-fifth floor. I balance the two dozen cupcakes I baked last night as I walk toward Joe.