Epilogue

EPILOGUE

GINA

I stood in my bathroom, staring down at the twin pink lines on the pregnancy test. Twin lines meant a positive result. It meant pregnancy, and that meant a baby was on the way. The first two months Porter and I had lived together, I had my period like regular. But this month, the appointed time came and went, and there was no sign of Aunt Flo.

I had waited an extra week, thinking it was possible I might be simply late. But the waiting had become hard, my thoughts constantly consumed by what-ifs. I bought a test on my lunch break and waited until my shift was over before taking it. A growing realization made me sure I didn't want to read the results in the hospital bathroom.

Porter was due to come home any minute. I wondered what he would think. He was committed to our relationship, that was for sure. He had dramatically asked me to go steady in a teen-drama-worthy display of affection. After three weeks of cohabitation in my Nashville apartment, Porter had brought up the "are we moving in together" question.

"I'll keep my place," he offered. "I just want to make sure it's okay that I keep staying here."

"It's more than okay," I had said. "And you don't have to keep your place."

He had put his mattress and dresser into storage and moved his clothes into our shared space. He commuted to work every day without complaint, until I suggested we find a place that was somewhere between our two jobs. Outside of the city, we could afford more living space, and we were able to rent a three-bedroom ranch house in the little town of Greenwood.

That meant that I was driving to work every morning instead of walking, but it was worth it. The new place was equally Porter's and mine. It was a reminder that we loved each other and that we were building a life together.

It was important to Porter that we attend barbeques with his friends in Singer's Ridge. I was pleased to discover that his friends included the nice lady from the Wooden Rose Salon. They were such an awesome bunch, it felt like no time at all passed before we were joking like college roommates. I especially enjoyed talking to Macy and Lindsey.

Tammy had her baby, and the little guy was so tiny and new, he stole my breath away. She allowed me to hold him, and I fell in love with his miniature fingers and toes. Standing alone in our bathroom, I wondered if it would be like that with my own child. I had a feeling it would be even more intense because the infant would be part me, part Porter.

The problem was, how was I going to tell him? Would he be happy or anxious? Would my pregnancy bring us closer or drive a wedge between us? If only I had some clue as to what his reaction would be. He was an addict; I could never forget that reality. It would haunt us until the day we died, even if he managed to retain his sobriety for fifty years. Once an addict, always an addict. At some level, he would have to wrestle with those demons for the rest of his life, and I would support him as best I could.

Would a family be a welcome distraction for him? Or would a child mean more responsibility and thus greater stakes? I considered waiting to deliver the news. Maybe I could secure another week or two of blissful ignorance before destroying the little love nest we had built. But that didn't seem fair. I should trust him. I should deliver the news and give him a chance to react.

I held my breath when he got home. He put his car keys in the dish by the door and set his lunch cooler down on the floor. Immediately, he could tell that something was up. I approached him slowly, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.

"I like this," he murmured, returning the affection.

"I have big news," I said.

He allowed me to lead him to the bathroom, where I had perched the positive test on the back of the toilet. I drew in my courage with one swift breath and handed it to him. He read the lines with interest, obviously unfamiliar with the device. I watched as his gaze flicked from the results to the answer key, digesting the news until the light dawned.

"You're pregnant?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

I was on pins and needles, desperate for any hint of joy. I nodded, hoping beyond hope that this would be the beginning of our life together and not the end. He didn't disappoint. He set the test back down and scooped me up in both arms, lifting me off the floor and spinning me around. Laughing, he planted kisses on both of my cheeks before settling firmly on my mouth.

"We're going to have a baby!" he yelled, announcing his triumph to the world.

The End