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My mom is already gone by the time I emerge from my bedroom in the morning. There’s a note on the table.

Tessa—

Headed into work early today but will come home for lunch.

—Mom

I sigh as I debate whether or not to tell my mom what I saw last night. On the one hand, it’ll make me feel better to get it off my chest. On the other…well, I don’t want to burden her with it, especially if it’s nothing. She mentioned the new pastor is starting this week at the church, so she’s got enough stress as she wonders whether her job is safe after the appointment of a new boss.

I take a shower and ignore every impulse telling me to check to see if Stephanie has posted more photos. I convince myself it’s all in my mind. By the time my mom gets home for lunch, I’ve almost completely forgotten about it.

Except I haven’t and as she pulls out some containers of leftovers to reheat for lunch, I stew over whether or not to tell her. It’s just a few pictures, but it’s unsettling, and sharing it with her might make me feel better.

“I need to be quick for lunch,” she says, pulling lids off containers. “The new pastor came into my office today and asked if we could chat about the children’s program. I’m nervous, Tessi-cat.”

Okay, noted. Now is not the time to tell her. I set aside my own nervousness for now and vow to tell her tonight. Or tomorrow. Or never. Maybe I’ll just let this play out and see what happens. “It’ll be fine, Mom. You’re amazing at your job. No way he’s going to let you go.”

She lifts a shoulder. “I know, but I still worry since I was only working there thanks to your father. I love what I do, and I don’t want to give it up…but Reverend Glen can do what he wants. If he has other ideas, I have to implement them. And all this on the heels of the Bingo fiasco!”

She’s clearly flustered, but she hasn’t filled me in on the latest Bingo issue. She tosses up her arms dramatically.

“What’s going on with Bingo?” I ask.

She sighs. “Annette Fisher accused Lynn Jacoby of skipping past a number in the chute—it would’ve awarded Annette two hundred dollars, and she swears she saw it in there, but she claims Lynn called the next number, which was the winning number on…you guessed it, Lynn’s husband Archie’s card.” She shakes her head. “Now we’ve got those siding with Annette and threatening not to come to Bingo anymore, which is already suffering attendance and profit, and others taking Lynn and Archie’s side and making threats against Annette and her group. It's just a mess. I wasn’t there that night, but it makes me not want to volunteer anymore. I know I’m not alone in that feeling, either. Cindy and Paula are with me, and if they don’t have the volunteers, they won’t have the Bingo nights anymore, and that could mean a lot of cuts around town.”

“So how do you solve that one?” I ask, genuinely curious what the answer is.

She shrugs. “I have a feeling it’ll all blow over soon. It’ll just take a new town scandal to get everyone’s focus off it.”

Like, for example, finding out the pastor’s daughter had an illegitimate child he made her give away? Is that scandalous enough for this small town?

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say instead. I realize this is her life—her entertainment and her friends—but at the same time, I also know the folks in this town live for this sort of drama. It gives them something to talk about, anyway.

“It’s fine. It’ll all work out. Listen, distract me with something good. How’s our girl doing?” she asks.

“Kicking away today,” I say. I pull open my pregnancy app and set my hand on my belly as I read. Even with a sweatshirt on, it’s getting hard to hide. “Baby is almost the size of a full ear of corn and I’m at the end of my second trimester.”

Holy shit.

The end of my second trimester already?

That means I only have one more to go.

It also means…I need to tell Tristan. I’ve been able to keep my distance as my belly has grown even though it’s not what I want.

I’ve been able to wear my bulky sweatshirts and coats to cover it up. I’ve only gained a little over ten pounds so far, but in these next few months my stomach is going to really pop out and the weather’s going to break and it’ll be pretty clear that I’m having a baby when I can’t cover it with sweatshirts anymore.

And it’s not just that.

I only have one more trimester to go. I’m two-thirds of the way there.

In another few months, I’ll have a baby.

A baby .

I’ll be a single mother without a job, without the father, without any clue what the hell I’m doing.

I’ve been going through the motions, attending my appointments, and feeling the movement. I know she’s coming. I’m doing my best to grow her and nourish her and take care of her as the bond builds between the two of us.

But I’m not really sure this has fully hit me until this very moment.

In a few months’ time, I will have a baby girl.

I’m not ready.

I don’t have clothes or diapers or bottles. I don’t have a crib or a bassinet or blankets. I don’t have a name picked out.

I don’t even have a plan .

But ready or not…here she comes.

And ready or not…it’s time to tell Tristan the truth.

Either he’ll run for the hills or support me as a friend.

As soon as he gets back from his trip, I’ll fill him in. No birds flying into our window or police officers knocking on our window or half-sisters showing up out of nowhere are going to stop me this time.

I just hope I’m ready for the fallout.