And so that look on her face right now? That smug little grin? It’s why instead of answering the phone, I hear myself say, “I’m pregnant.”

15

I fall asleep, unexpectedly and deeply, my eyes popping open sometime around four. I roll over and catch a whiff of Paul, the smell of his skin and aftershave, and I reach for him before I remember. Paul’s side of the bed is empty, his scent caught inside the fabric of the T-shirt I salvaged from the hamper. It was the only way I could get settled in this big bed all alone.

I stare at the ceiling and the worries return, nicking at my consciousness, shimmering in the dark air of the bedroom. I worry about Paul tumbling down some gorge or freezing in his hammock under the trees. About Diana a few miles down the road, screaming into her pillow at the news she’s going to be a grandmother. About the lies that keep piling up like Jenga blocks, only a matter of time before a sloppily placed tile sends the whole mess toppling down.

Without warning, a wave of nausea pitches up my throat. I lurch out of bed and sprint to the toilet, barely making it on time. My last meal was hours ago, pasta that comes up in a series of sour waves. I throw it all up, over and over, until all that’s left is bile. I flush the sick down, but the dizziness, the shock of it, doesn’t pass.

I brush my teeth and pull on some clean clothes, leggings and an oversized sweater because no way I’m going to work today. On the other side of the window, the ground is white with snow, a good coating this time, a couple of inches at least and more coming down. Even if I could get to the office, what would I tell Paul’s staff? He never misses work, and everybody there has access to his calendar. I’d really like to not have to pile on yet another lie.

On the way out of the bedroom, I lift my cell phone from the charger and awaken the screen. No missed calls. No texts. No nothing.

Paul is an experienced hiker, and the area around Lake Crosby is remote enough that service, if there is any, would cut in and out. How long does an iPhone battery hold a charge in snow and sweat and freezing temperatures? If he’s smart, and he is, he’s powered it down and is saving the battery in case of emergency.

Emergency. My heart pinches, and I start catastrophizing. Broken bones, unconscious at the bottom of a cliff, frozen to death in that ridiculous hammock of his, ripped to shreds by a bear.

“Alexa, what’s the weather?” I say on the way into the kitchen.