She smiled gingerly and opened a paper calendar on the counter. “The only due date you have to think about is probably sometime this fall. When was your last period?”

“Uh . . .” I tried to think. “Maybe early December?”

She looked up from the calendar. “So did you miss one in January too?”

My brain was reeling. Had I? I must have. “I guess it’s possible. My life has been sort of upside down since the move. And my periods have been irregular for the last year, probably because I lost quite a bit of weight.”

She nodded. “That can happen. Your weight is in the healthy range now, but let’s see if we can pinpoint when you might have conceived.”

Conceived.

Oh my God.

“So today is March twelfth. You know for sure you missed one in February, and you think maybe you missed January.”

“I’m pretty sure I did,” I said, reality sinking in. “And my best guess is that I conceived somewhere between Christmas and New Year’s.” Tears filled my eyes.

Dr. Kelson plucked a tissue from the box on the counter and handed it to me. “I take it this baby is a surprise?”

“Yes.” To say the least.

“You mentioned you’re divorced on your intake forms. Is the baby’s father—”

“Not my ex,” I said, trying to gain control. “It’s someone else.”

“Is he part of your life? Would he be supportive?”

I nodded and dabbed at my eyes with the tissue. “Yes, he is part of my life, and he’s wonderful. He’ll be supportive.”

“Good. And you have . . .” She checked my paperwork. “Two other children?”

“Yes.” A chasm of dread opened in my stomach. How would Whitney and Keaton take the news? “And I’m a little worried about telling them.”

“Well, give yourself some time to adjust,” she suggested, patting my arm. “And let’s get you scheduled for an ultrasound.”

* * *

An hour later, I pulled into the lot at Cloverleigh Farms and sat behind the wheel of my car, staring out the windshield but seeing nothing.

September eighteenth. That was my due date.

I was nearly twelve weeks along.

I’d scheduled an ultrasound for the following week, at which I’d be able to see and probably even hear the baby’s heartbeat.

Oh my God. I put both hands on my belly. There was a heart beating inside me. A heartbeat that Henry and I had created.

I closed my eyes, feeling joyful and terrified all at once.

At least it all made sense now—the nausea, the crying at every little thing, the dizziness, the sore breasts, the gradual but steady weight gain. I’d been glad for the extra pounds and excited to have some more curves, but I’d also had this odd suspicion something wasn’t quite right with my body, so I’d made an appointment with April’s doctor.