Page 8 of Promise Me This
“When can Kia come over and play?” she asks. “She needs to braid Penny’s hair.”
The question knocks me sideways. I blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I… I’m not sure,” I say, trying to buy myself a second. “Kia’s probably busy.”
“Maybe tomorrow?” she presses, completely undeterred.
Mark’s warning immediately surfaces.
Don’t give them anything they can twist.
I hate that I have to weigh an innocent request against potential consequences, but that’s my new reality.
“No, I don’t think so,” I say, keeping my tone light. “How about we talk about it later, okay?”
Elody’s mouth pinches, disappointment flickering across her face, before she nods. Ms. Harding steps closer, resting a hand lightly on Elody’s back and guiding her toward the other students.
Elody turns around one last time. “Love you, Daddy!” she calls, waving as she goes.
“Love you more,” I say, watching her disappear into the classroom.
As soon as the door closes, the hallway quiets. I lean against the wall for one beat, then push off and head back toward the Escalade.
It’s not even nine o’clock and the day already feels too damn long.
3
Kia
By the time I finish my makeup, I can’t tell if the queasiness in my stomach is from nerves or the pregnancy. I brace my hands on the bathroom counter and stare at my reflection. The girl looking back at me is a paler version of myself with blue eyes that are a little too big and cheeks that are a little too hollow. But Rina was right about the sweater dress. It’s cozy, flattering, and loose enough to keep my secret where it belongs.
Hidden.
I smooth my palm over the knit and the faint curve beneath it.
My phone sits face down on the counter. I stare at it for a moment, then force myself to flip it over before I can chicken out. Relief washes through me when I see there aren’t any new messages from Collin.
I press my lips together until the trembling stops. It feels like I’ve been in an emotional free fall since the day I stared at that positive sign on the stick test, and I still haven’t figured out how to catch myself. When a wave of nausea rolls through me without warning, I draw in air and wait it out, fingers digging into the cool marble.
The appointment Rina scheduled is on my calendar for next week. I haven’t let myself think too hard about the ultrasound or the bloodwork—the moment everything becomes undeniably real.
The goal for today is simple. Survive Thanksgiving without throwing up on the centerpiece.
There’s a light tap on the bedroom door. “Kia? Can I come in?”
“Yeah,” I call, stepping out of the bathroom.
Rina slips in, wearing a deep-green dress that makes her eyes pop. Her hair falls down her back in a dark, silky curtain, and there’s an expression on her face I now recognize. It’s not just happiness that radiates from her but a sense of belonging, as if she finally found her place in this world and the person she’s supposed to be with.
As soon as her gaze lands on me, she smiles. “I knew that dress was made for you.”
Heat climbs up my neck. “Thanks. I love it.”
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” she says. “Perfect for Thanksgiving dinner with a bunch of overgrown hockey players who’ll hopefully be on their best behavior.”
I huff out a laugh. “That feels a little too optimistic.”
“I’m trying to manifest it.” She adjusts my neckline, fussing like I imagine an older sister would. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie, then reconsider the impulse. “Maybe a little off. You know how it is.”
