I rest my head back on the pillow, wrapping the blanket around me tighter. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“I just need a few days. Maybe then I can get my head straight and form a plan that doesn’t make me sob. I want to tell him about the baby, but only after I know what I’m doing. That way, the choice is what it is and not based on him and what he wants.”

“That makes sense.”

“Does it?” I ask with a laugh. “I feel like it’s all crap. The truth is that I want him to see that I’m not his ex or the same girl as I was before.”

Delia covers the phone, speaking to someone and then comes back to me. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks. Just . . . please don’t tell him where I am.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

We hang up, and the cold is too much. There’s a blustering wind that is sending a draft through the house, so I get up and turn the heat on, hoping it kicks in quickly.

I refuse to sleep in that room. I can’t . . . it’s hard enough being here and not thinking of Grayson. This house holds memories that no one can take. It’s where we made love the first time and where we conceived this child. It’s where we laughed, smiled, and found hope. I need some damn hope right now.

I go into the pink room and grab the comforter off the bed and go back to the couch.

My eyelids are heavy because, between the tears and the pregnancy, I am always tired.

I look at my phone, the screen filled with a picture of Grayson, Amelia, and me smiling as we stand by the ocean. We were so happy and I truly believed we’d become a family.

“You stupid man,” I say to him, feeling the sadness building again.

I close my eyes as a tear trickles down my face, hating that this hurt won’t ebb.

My lungs hurt. Each breath feels labored.

Jesus. This dream. I can’t handle it right now.

I open my eyes, but it’s too dark for me to see anything. I cough, trying to get air.

This is a new dream, one where everything is too real. My heart races as I move from side to side, trying to wake. My body is hot, sweat all around me.

I try to see again, but there’s . . . smoke.

Oh my God.