“I just don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to feel that again. When Dad left, it was horrible. He just walked away from us as though we meant nothing.”

“Maybe he did feel that way, but the man I married and loved didn’t feel nothing. I believe, in my heart, that he ached from it, but he didn’t know how to come back. Imagine the self-reflection and guilt he would’ve had to endure. Not that it excuses it because, for you and Winnie, there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t put myself through, but that’s what mothers do for their children.”

“You think Dad stayed away out of shame?”

She shrugs. “I have no idea why he’s done this, but he destroyed our family when he left us. I think that he couldn’t handle it and took the road he could walk down.”

“Leaving pain and destruction in his wake.”

My mother’s smile is sad. “Did he really? Look at you both. My girls are strong, independent, smart, and resilient. I had one go through a plane crash and come out okay. The other fights for children who have far less than any child should. He may have left you, but you both rose above and defied any odds. Be proud, Jessica. Be strong and don’t let your past be what destroys what could be a beautiful future.”

“I think you’re pregnant,” my stupid best friend says.

My head is resting on the wall as I try to quell the vomiting. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Jess, it’s been almost three days of this weird puking, and you’re exhausted.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m exhausted because I keep puking.”

She points to my stomach “Which is why I think you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Says the woman with a baby growing in her stomach.”

“You’re being an ass.”

“You’re in denial.”

I get to my feet and grab my toothbrush. “First, I’m on the pill. Second, we always use . . .”

Oh my God.

We always use condoms, except when we were at the beach house. That night, we forgot. Maybe not forgot, but it wasn’t a discussion, and . . . holy shit.

I clasp my hand over my mouth as my stomach roils again. I drop back down, feeling sick for another reason.

“Easy,” Delia says as she rubs my back.

I look up at her, tears brimming in my eyes. Jesus, I could be pregnant.

“You have to go get me a test.” I grip her hands, holding on for dear life as panic starts to build. “Please.”

“What?”

“A test. I need a test so I can . . . I don’t know, scare my body into sync or something.” Yes, that’s what will happen. I don’t think I’m late yet. It’s only been a few weeks. I should be starting my period any day now.