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CHAPTER 1 – Alycia

Tuesday, June 17

It’s been five weeks since I carried my whole career out of the Tide in a box that used to hold printer paper. I still haven’t made a decision about my mother’s offer to come work for Dawnbreak, but I’m in no rush to throw myself into work so soon. In fact, I might take the rest of the summer off and clear out the apartment of Declan’s crap.

There’s still a bottle of his aftershave in the bathroom cabinet. I chose it in a shop in Rome, and I’ve walked past it every morning since April.

Or even better, I might renovate the whole place and get rid of every part of it that reminds me that he was ever here.

I wake up happy and excited. I even put on music and dance toward the kitchen to make myself coffee.

I’ve been living like a single woman for two months now, but only now do I really feel like one. I didn’t realize how much my marriage was dragging me down.

As the smell of coffee reaches me, my stomach turns. I put my hand over my mouth and run to the bathroom, throwing up the remnants of last night’s dinner.

I hate throwing up, but I haven’t been feeling well for weeks, so I know it’s not food poisoning.

Now that I think about it, I’ve been very tired lately too, but that’s probably just stress. Everything’s been so hectic with my father, and then Declan’s cheating, it’s no wonder I’m feeling this way. I’ve been putting all of it down to the divorce since April.

I brush my teeth and take a shower. I don’t feel better, but I’m determined to go about my day.

I approach the kitchen carefully, going straight for the coffee to dump it out. The smell is horrible. I make a mental note to buy more ginger ale before I head to the pharmacy to get some vitamins or medicine for this stomach bug.

My stomach turns again, making me run straight to the bathroom, but I don’t throw up. It’s just heaving and nausea. I’m sweating, but I try to take deep breaths.

What could it be?

The only time I was sick like this was a few years ago when I had food poisoning. But then I only threw up and had a fever for a few days.

This has been going on for weeks, on and off, and I’ve had a reason ready for every single day of it. There’s no fever. Just nausea and constant tiredness.

I could go to urgent care, but I hate waiting rooms, and I’m sure this will go away on its own soon. My mom always told me that I can cure any minor illness with chicken soup and sleep.

I brush my teeth again and make sure to grab my purse and my phone. I need some fresh air and something easy on my stomach.

When I glance at my phone I see a notification from my calendar app. It’s been sending me reminders for weeks, and I’ve been swiping them away without reading. But this time I open it. The message underneath it makes my heart stop.

It says: Is your period late?

I stand frozen in the middle of the bedroom. My hand is shaking, and I can’t move.

I’m trying to remember when I last had my period. I can’t. Not last month. Not the month before.

I scroll back through the app and the last little red dot is at the end of February.

No. No, no, no. It can’t be.

I’m pregnant. I must be.

I’m not ready for this. I can’t have a baby now. I’m not in a relationship anymore, I don’t have a job, I’m not stable.

Stable. That was Declan’s word.

I always wanted to be a mother, but Declan and I agreed to wait until we were more prepared.

Then I sit down on the end of the bed, because it can’t be Declan’s.

He had a vasectomy four years ago because he didn’t like condoms and had said he’d reverse it when we were ready.