My daughter was an adult.
She’d made adult decisions.
Now she had adult consequences.
The pregnancy continued under close medical supervision.
I attended every appointment, drank the water my doctor recommended, and finally stopped pretending I could do everything alone.
Graham drove me to an ultrasound when my sister was out of town.
He sat in the waiting room with a book he never opened.
Afterward, I showed him the picture.
“That’s a baby?” he asked.
“That’s generally the idea.”
He laughed.
And for the first time in months, the future didn’t feel like a threat.
We talked about what was happening between us.
Really talked.
The age difference.
His history with Paige.
The fact that my unborn child was Frank’s.
Nothing about it was simple.
But Graham didn’t ask me to pretend otherwise.
“I care about you, Celia,” he said. “I’m not asking you to make some big decision tonight.”
