Page 16

Chapter Fifteen

Tasha

Slipping carefully from beneath the covers, I manage to make it out of bed before the nausea hits, hoping that I can get to the bathroom before my stomach betrays me.

Each quiet, quick step feels like it’s taking more energy than it should, but I move slowly, trying not to wake Brody. The room is dim, with a plum-colored, soft pre-dawn glow filtering in through the curtains, casting everything in a cool lavender light.

The cold marble counter soothes my fingertips, grounding me as I fight the nausea rolling up within me. I make it to the bathroom and close the door as silently as I can, then lean against the sink, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Turning on the water, waiting for it to get warm, I focus on the rhythmic sound of it splashing against the tiles. Steam begins to fill the bathroom, curling and twisting in the soft light.

My hand lingers over my stomach, offering a faint, useless comfort to myself.

The weight of my discomfort presses down on me, growing heavier with each quiet, gasping breath I take.

Each second feels stretched out, as if even time itself knows I’m holding something enormous inside, something that Brody doesn’t know about yet.

The warm water cascades over me when I finally step into the shower, melting some of the tension I’ve carried since yesterday.

The scent of Brody’s body wash mingles with the steam, filling the space with his scent, and for a moment, I’m struck by the overwhelming contradiction of it all; this beautiful, comforting moment, tainted by the heavy secret weighing on my chest.

For a moment, I close my eyes, letting the water soothe the worst of the queasiness, leaning against the shower wall to steady myself.

Then, the faint creak of the bedroom floorboards breaks the silence and my heart skips.

Brody’s awake, his footsteps drawing closer.

I can picture him, rumpled and sleepy, moving toward the bathroom with that natural ease of his, and my stomach twists, but this time from nerves. I adjust the temperature, trying to steady my breathing.

Maybe he’ll just say good morning and go get ready for work. I try to look casual, closing my eyes and focusing on the warm water that streams down on me, as though I don’t have a monumental secret to hide.

But then I hear the door open, and I sense him near me before he even speaks.

Brody’s shadow appears on the other side of the glass, and a moment later, he slides the shower door open just enough to peek in.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmurs with a sleepy grin, leaning in to kiss me. His lips brush my forehead, and I feel the familiar warmth that always makes my heart skip a beat.

He smells of fresh linen, and for a moment, I feel like everything’s normal, that it’s just the two of us here, enjoying an easy morning together.

“Morning,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice the hint of unease in my weak voice.

Brody leans in a little closer, his voice low as he murmurs something about last night, a playful glint in his eyes. His fingertips trail along my arm, and I do my best to smile back, nodding as if I’m relaxed. But inside, the guilt is like a knot twisting tighter, pulling me in two directions.

I know that any moment, he’ll head off to his end of the house, and this morning will fade into our routine, but I can’t shake the feeling of dread.

This isn’t a routine morning and hiding it from him makes my heart ache.

I muster a quick smile as he finally steps back, talking about going to get dressed, and the moment he steps back I exhale slowly, the tension flooding out of me in a rush. The weight of everything, the thrill, the guilt, the fear—they’re all simmering under the surface.

I press my hands to my stomach, thinking to myself, just act natural, Tasha .

“Last night was…well, let’s just say I didn’t want it to end.” His eyes dance, teasing as he leans back a little, surveying me again with an affectionate smile.

I chuckle, trying to keep my face from betraying the waves of worry beneath the surface. “Good morning to you, too,” I manage to say, hiding my nervousness behind a smile.

I reach for his hand, squeezing it lightly, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in my fingers.

“I’ll let you finish up,” he says, pressing another kiss to my forehead before stepping back. “Just didn’t want you to get lonely in here.”

He winks, the picture of ease, before he saunters out of the bathroom to his end of the house.

The warmth of his words lingers even as he leaves, but guilt follows just as quickly.

I feel like I’m hiding something huge from him, this looming truth that will change everything. For now, though, I focus on keeping my cool and getting through the morning without letting on that anything’s amiss.

I finish rinsing off and step out of the shower, trying to focus on my routine, hoping it’ll help steady me for the day ahead.

I dry off quickly, wrap myself in a towel, and reach for my phone.

I see a text from Gemma.

Did you tell him yet?

I take a deep breath, then type back a quick reply.

No, not yet.

My fingers hover over the screen as I try to think of something reassuring, but I have nothing to say.

Instead, I place my phone on the vanity counter and start putting on my makeup, trying to focus on looking put together for the office.

As I’m applying my mascara, focusing on each careful stroke, I catch a reflection of movement in the mirror.

Brody’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that easy, confident stance of his, watching me with a soft smile. His gaze is warm and steady, and it feels like he’s taking in every small detail of me in this moment, like he’s content just to be here.

There’s something almost magnetic about his presence, and for a moment, I can feel the tension start to melt away, as if just looking at him is enough to remind me that I’m not in this alone. At least, that’s what I want to believe.

“You about ready to head out?” he asks, but there’s that hint of amusement in his eyes that always makes me feel like I’m the only one in the room.

The way he looks at me, it’s like he knows every corner of my mind, every little flicker of my heart, and still, he stays.

“Almost,” I say, steadying my hand with the mascara wand, even though my heart’s pounding. “Just the finishing touches.”

I force a small smile, watching his reflection as he tilts his head, observing me with that familiar grin.

He doesn’t look away, his gaze so warm it almost makes me feel safe—like I can handle anything today. I turn away, trying to catch my breath.

For a moment, the air hums with a quiet, unspoken energy, and I feel my nerves settle, just enough for me to think that maybe, just maybe, I can get through today without letting my emotions unravel completely.

Then, my phone buzzes on the counter, breaking the stillness between us.

The screen lights up, Gemma’s name glowing brightly, and a single word flashes in the notification banner, “pregnant”.

The letters seem to shout, filling the room, and I feel my chest tighten. The word is so big, so obvious, and I barely manage to glance away before Brody catches sight of it too.

Brody laughs, his eyes lighting up as he straightens. “Gemma’s pregnant?” He’s genuinely thrilled, his whole face lighting up.

There’s a joy in his voice, pure and unfiltered, that catches me off guard. “That’s wonderful! I bet she’ll be an amazing mom.” His grin spreads wider, and he looks like he’s picturing it all: Gemma, her baby, the new life that’ll come with it.

I blink, thrown completely off balance, my mind scrambling to keep up. “Um…yeah. Isn’t that exciting?” My voice sounds thin, the words shaky.

I try to laugh along, but there’s a pressure building inside me, like a balloon that could burst at any second. I can feel the tension creeping back, my heartbeat racing faster with every second I stand there, my resolve slipping through my fingers.

He nods, still beaming, and I can’t help but wonder how that expression will change when he realizes it’s not Gemma’s news he’s celebrating.

There’s no way I can keep hiding it now.

That it’s my pregnancy she’s talking about.

It’s like the truth is a tornado, and I’m standing right in its path.

I take a deep breath, letting the smile drop from my face, and square my shoulders, turning to face him fully. My hands feel ice-cold, and I grip the counter, grounding myself as I look him in the eye, forcing my voice out, even though it’s barely more than a whisper.

“Actually, Brody…” I say, the words catching in my throat, “It’s…it’s not Gemma. I’m…I’m the one who’s pregnant.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

His face goes completely still, the warmth in his expression dissolving into something unreadable, his gaze fixed on me like he’s trying to process what I just said.

There’s no joy there now, just an immobile, frozen shock.

The silence wraps around me like a fog, thick and suffocating, and I feel my heart splintering, one painful crack at a time with each second he doesn’t respond.

It’s all too much.

I can’t stand here and watch his expression change, see whatever’s hiding behind that unreadable look come to the surface.

My breath catches, and before I know what I’m doing, I snatch up my phone, my hands trembling as I turn away from him, slipping out of the bathroom as fast as I can.

My footsteps echo in the hallway, and I practically run, the walls around me blurring as I rush to the front door.

The moment I step outside, the fresh air hits me like a slap, but it’s not enough to ease the panic gripping my chest.

I stumble to my car, fumbling with the keys, my fingers shaking so badly it takes two tries before I finally manage to unlock the door. I slide into the driver’s seat, my hands gripping the wheel as I struggle to catch my breath, my mind racing in a thousand directions.

Tears prick my eyes and spill over as I wind my way through the quiet morning streets, grateful to have a working car again and that there’s no one around to see me falling apart.

Even in this fucked up headspace, I can't help but feel grateful to Brody for having someone look at my car.

The drive to work feels like an endless, aching stretch, and I’m barely holding it together.

Brody’s reaction keeps replaying in my mind. He’d looked stunned, paralyzed almost, and not in the good way I’d been secretly, desperately hoping for.

I’d watched his expression change, the warm excitement he’d had for Gemma draining away the moment he realized I was the one carrying a baby.

Brody had been so genuinely thrilled when he thought he was going to be a grandpa.

How easily that joy shifted to…whatever that unreadable look was.

It hurts so much that it’s physically painful, like there’s a weight pressing down on my chest.

A part of me had thought, maybe, that he’d be just as excited for me. I wipe a stray tear as I steer onto the winding back roads that snake their way into town, choosing the long route just to give myself more time to pull it together.

Outside the window, autumn colors blur by, rich reds and golds muted by the morning mist. Normally, I’d love this view. It’s calming, grounding.

But today, even the trees and rolling hills seem somber, like they’re sharing my heartbreak.

My stomach twists with fear and nerves, and I have no idea if it’s from the pregnancy or just my gut-wrenching sadness.