Page 65 of A Thousand Little Goodbyes

The waves were going to pull Scarlett under, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

Chapter Twenty-TwoPortland, OR

2009

Chrissie went with Scarlett to every single one of her prenatal appointments.

Not surprisingly, Chrissie was a huge hit with the medical staff, all of whom werewaymore emotionally invested in this baby than Scarlett understood.

Or, if she was being honest, appreciated.

Scarlett could be lying there in her uncomfortable paper gown for hours without eliciting anything so much as “And how are youfeeling, dear?” but the moment the nurses and ultrasound techs caught sight of Chrissie sitting in a plastic chair with her annotated copy ofWhat to Expect When You’re Expectingin her lap, they went all googly-eyed.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest friend in the world?”

“Have you gotten to the chapter on mucus plugs yet? Never underestimate the horrors of the bloody show.”

“Can I get you anything, Chrissie? A pillow, maybe? Or a sandwich from the cafeteria? We’re gonna be another hour or so, and you’re looking a little pale.”

“I could use a sandwich,” Scarlett said, her hands clasped around the growing lump of her six-months-pregnant belly. That belly was too big for the doctor’s comfort, which was why they were here in the first place. “I’m starving to death.”

The nurse, a lithe, twentysomething man who seemed to have the energy of a dozen overfed hyenas, only laughed and wagged a finger at Scarlett. “Now, now. You know the glucose test won’t give us accurate results unless you’re fasting. Just sit tight a little bit longer, and we’ll make sure we get you a pudding cup for your troubles.”

Scarlett waited until he walked out of the room before turning to Chrissie. “A pudding cup? I’m growing a whole freaking human being over here, and that’s the best he can offer? You should take him up on the sandwich offer and feed it to me in little bites. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Chrissie laughed in the same way the nurse had, as if she knew down to her very bones that Scarlett wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the glucose test—and, by extension, her baby.

Scarlett wished she knew how they could all be so certain. They had no idea how many times she fantasized about doing all the things she wasn’t supposed to. Drinking and smoking and eating her body weight in sushi and soft cheeses. Sitting in a sauna until she was so hot that her skin started to peel off or riding a horse across the country, her hair freshly bleached and trailing in the wind behind her.

You know, totally normal teenage activities.

“I know it sucks. I promise not to eat anything until they give you the all clear. That way we can suffer together.” Chrissie set the book aside and gave Scarlett her full attention. “Wanna play tic-tac-toe to pass the time? Or we can fuck-marry-kill the medical staff again. There’s a new resident with really soft hands who might mix things up.”

Scarlett relaxed and lay back against her paper pillow, her eyes closed. “You’re just saying that to cheer me up.”

“Well, yeah.” Scarlett felt a different soft hand—the one belonging to Chrissie—brush hair off her forehead. “We can also talk, if you want. I know how hard today is for you. We were supposed to be on our flight to Paris.”

Scarlett felt a familiar tightness seize hold of her belly. The first time it had happened, she’d been so afraid she’d done something to hurt the baby that she’d had Chrissie run her to the emergency room. The second time, a late-night call to her doctor had sufficed. Now she recognized the sensation for what it was: plain old ordinary anxiety.

It was so strange. Her whole life, she’d lived on a precipice of sorts—straddling the line between life and death, her future not guaranteed so much as beckoning. She’d never had much money, wasn’t particularly good at school, and rarely made the kind of choices a guidance counselor would approve of. Yet she’d never felt any fears about what would be become of her. For good or bad, better or worse, she was going toliveher life, and that was enough.

It was only now that she had a bank account six figures in the black and the next eighteen years of her life mapped out that she felt a swirling, all-consuming worry so powerful that it took a physical form.

“Hey. Forget I said anything. It’s supposed to be one of the hottest summers on record over there anyway. We’re better off in the good ol’ marine west coast climate zone.”

Scarlett popped her eyes open again. As expected, Chrissie was looking down on her with a pucker of worry drawing the delicate arches of her brows together.

“I don’t deserve you,” Scarlett said suddenly. “I never have.”

The line down Chrissie’s forehead deepened. “Stop that. I thought we decided not to give the sperm donor any more real estate inside our heads. He’sdefinitelynot thinking about us, so why should we bother with him?”

Scarlett couldn’t help but smile at Chrissie’s use of the term they’dadopted whenever discussing Grimshaw Pemberly—ex-boyfriend, intercourse denier, and master in the art of disappearance. In many ways, Scarlett had a lot to thank him for. If he’d risen to the occasion and taken ownership of his actions, stepping up as the other responsible half in this debacle of biology and hormones, there was a good chance Chrissie would have walked out the door and out of Scarlett’s life forever. To say that she’d been hurt by Scarlett’s confession would be an understatement.

But when Grimshaw coldly denied any part in what had happened the day of her grandmother’s funeral—even in the face of Mitchell’s confirmation of the facts—Chrissie had done all the rising for him. In the face of adversity, she would always,alwayshave Scarlett’s back.

And even though Chrissie would never admit it out loud, an unexpected pregnancy in an eighteen-year-old body that everyone had proclaimed unable to support life was adversity. It was adversity as only Chrissie and Scarlett could understand.

“It’s not just him,” Scarlett said. “I mean, itishim, but—”