Page 17 of The Only Road Back

BETH

The baby shower invitation arrives on a Thursday afternoon, wedged between unpaid bills and glossy catalogs Jack dumped on the kitchen counter.

I almost toss the pile into the junk drawer, but a delicate pink envelope catches my eye.

The swirl of cursive lettering across the front feels like a slap.

My chest tightens as I tear it open.

You’re invited to celebrate the upcoming arrival of Baby Carter!

My breath stutters. The room shifts.

Carter.

Clark’s last name.

Stephanie is pregnant. How long had they…?

I sink onto a kitchen stool, the invitation trembling in my hands.

I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t matter.

But it does. It still does.

I don’t love Clark. Not anymore. But the betrayal? That’s still fresh. Still raw.

A baby. They’re having a baby.

The front door creaks open behind me.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jack calls. His boots scrape the hardwood. “Garage was a mess today. Henry nearly—”

He stops when he sees me.

“Beth?” He crosses the kitchen in three strides. “What is it?”

I hand him the invitation, unable to speak.

His brow furrows as he reads. His mouth flattens. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

A bitter laugh escapes. “Flip it over. There’s more.”

He turns the card.

Hosted by Martha Carter and Diane Harrison.

Jack mutters a curse. “Your mom?”

I rub my temples. “Why am I even surprised?”

He sets the card down carefully, like it might explode, then crouches in front of me. His palms settle warm and steady on my knees.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s not Clark,” I say. “It’s not even Stephanie, really. I don’t care about them. Not personally.”

Jack nods once, waiting.

“It’s my mom,” I whisper. “Celebrating with them. Helping them. Like what happened didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

His jaw clenches. “You do matter.”

“Not to her,” I snap, too tired to soften it.

Jack’s thumbs trace slow circles on my knees. “You don’t have to go.”

“I know.” My eyes fall to the invitation again. Pink and gleaming, like some cruel joke. “But part of me kinda wants to.”

He tilts his head, watching me closely. “Why?”

“Closure, maybe. Or to prove they didn’t break me.”

He offers a crooked smile. “Then don’t go alone. Let them see you walk in on my arm, looking radiant and unfazed.”

I blink at him. “You’d come?”

His smile softens. “Beth, I’d walk into a fire for you.”

The knot in my throat loosens. I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, breathing in his quiet strength.

Eventually, I pull back and slide the invitation into its envelope. “I need to think.”

“Take your time. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

He pulls me into his arms, and I let myself rest there. For the first time since seeing Clark’s last name, I can breathe.

***

The next morning, I call Lori.

She answers on the second ring. “Please tell me this is the ‘I’m leaving that godforsaken town and moving back in with your favorite wine witch’ call.”

“Tempting,” I murmur. “But not quite.”

She picks up immediately on the shift in my tone. “Uh-oh. What happened?”

“I got an invitation.”

She doesn’t need clarification.

“Oh, come on,” she snaps. “That woman is a Telenovela villain. Was this her idea of a punchline?”

“Seems so.”

“And your mother is helping throw it?” she practically yells. “Has she hit her head? This is next-level betrayal, even for her.”

“I know,” I mumble.

“Don’t tell me you’re even thinking about showing up.”

I pause.

“Beth.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Part of me thinks it might give me closure.”

“Did Jack agree with that?”

I almost laugh. “He said I should show up with him on my arm, head held high.”

There’s a beat. Then: “…Okay, as revenge plans go, that’s not bad.”

A small smile tugs at my lips.

“But seriously,” Lori says, softer now. “Are you okay?”

I hesitate. “Honestly? It stings. Seeing her name. Seeing his. Knowing they’re building something out of the ashes like it cost them nothing.”

“I get it,” she says. “I still say Stephanie’s faking it. She’s way too self-absorbed to share the stage with a baby.”

I blink. “You think she’d lie about being pregnant?”

“I’m not saying she’s not pregnant,” Lori mutters. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t trust her to hold a goldfish.”

A dry laugh escapes me.

“Look,” she says, “if you do decide to go, I’ll come. No way I’m letting you walk into that den of toxic glitter bombs alone.”

Moisture creeps into my eyes. “Thanks. Really.”

“Not a problem.”

I hesitate. “Hey…you should visit. Stay a while. I’ve made new friends, but it’s not the same.”

“Beth.”

“I miss you. No pressure. Just think about it.”

She sighs, but I hear the grin in her voice. “All right.”