I want desperately to call Ryan, but what am I supposed to say? I was pregnant with your baby. Now I’m not. And to top it off, I’m not sure which of those sentences I’m supposed to be happy about? No, I can’t do that. And besides, it’s late. He’s definitely sleeping.

A hot shower. That would feel good. I run the water as hot as I’m able to stand and step in. As the water splashes over my flushed skin, relief comes with it. I lean my forehead against the cold tile. I couldn’t have had a baby right now.

But right on its heels is a rage hotter than the water running over me. Why shouldn’t I have a baby if that’s what I wanted? I’m in a stable relationship. I have plenty of money. There should be room in my life for the family I want. Yet if things keep going the way they are, I’ll never have that. Where is a baby supposed to fit between writing, editing, and endless press?

The next day, I pop some painkillers, wrap myself up as best I can, and board the plane. But it’s not the relief that comes home with me. It’s the rage.

“I thought Ryan was going to pick me up,” I tell Trina as she tries to play Tetris with my suitcase and the boxes of books she has in her trunk.

“He’s at the JMP offices waiting for us.” She flattens her bright red lips. With a grunt and a shove, the suitcase finally slides in. “We’ve got news.”

“Yeah, I heard.” I get in the passenger side and try to swallow my disappointment at not having Ryan here as Trina jogs around to drive. I had hoped for at least a few minutes with him before this meeting Trina had scheduled. Though maybe it’s for the best. I wouldn’t have been able to tell him anything in a short car ride.

She drives the twenty minutes to JMP in silence, but I can feel her excitement practically vibrating off her. This is always what she does when she has something she wants to say but can’t for some reason. But somewhere over Ohio, my rage gave way to numbness, and I’m having a hard time pretending to give a shit about whatever Trina and Ryan have been evading. I’m still bleeding.