And I honestly was not planning on having sex with anyone else after we separated, so getting on birth control wasn’t on my to-do list. Furthermore, it wasn’t even a thought in my head that Dayton and I getting pregnant the first and only time we had sex—on the very night we met—was a possibility.

“Maybe your sugar is low,” Mom says, dragging me from my thoughts. “What have you eaten today?”

“I had some toast earlier.” I take a seat on the barstool next to Jacob.

“Toast?” She frowns. “It’s after five.”

“I know, but I haven’t been hungry.”

“I’m making a pasta salad for book club tonight. I’ll make you a bowl.”

“No, thank you.” I shake my head and place my hand over my stomach, which twists at the idea of eating anything, especially what she is making that smells heavily loaded with garlic and feta cheese. Of course, she ignores me and scoops some into a bowl, which she gets down from the cabinet.

“You need to eat.” She scoots the bowl across the counter toward me, and bile crawls up the back of my throat when the smell hits me full force. Covering my mouth, I slide off the stool and run out of the kitchen to the bathroom in the hall. Falling to my knees in front of the toilet, I lose what little food I’ve eaten today.

“Do I need to call Dr. Spartan?” Mom suddenly asks from behind me, rubbing my back, and I shake my head. I should probably look up how long this stage of pregnancy lasts and what I can do to help ease some of my nausea, which has been happening all day for the past two days. But again, I’m in my denial stage, so I haven’t done any research or made an appointment to see my doctor. I will, but I haven’t worked up the courage to do it yet.

“Honey, you’re obviously sick.” She flushes the toilet.

“Or she’s pregnant,” Jacob says, followed by the crinkle of a bag and the crunch of the chips he’s eating.

My body stills while the air in my lungs freezes.

“She’s not pregnant,” Mom snaps at my brother, then her hand stills on my back, and she pauses while the air around us seems to grow thick. “Right, honey?” she asks softly, and tears fill my eyes.

Lifting my head, I meet her gaze. I want to lie and tell her that I’m not, but I can’t. It’s already going to be difficult for her and my father to accept the fact that I’m pregnant by a man who I’m not in a relationship with, and lying about it right now will just make it worse.

“This is…” Mom shakes her head, then smiles softly. “Great. This is great! Matthew is going to be thrilled.”