Evelyn
My heartbeat that just slowed down is now thundering in my ears, making me question if I even heard Marbell correctly. My eye lids that were threatening to close involuntarily are now wide open.
“Baby?” I repeat in my rasp.
It must be clear from my reaction that I have no idea what she’s talking about. I mean, I can guess, but I didn’t know before now. It all seems too impossible.
“You’re six weeks along,” she whispers, and a flood of emotions pummels me in an order that I don’t see any rhyme or reason in.
Guilt that I put my baby at such risk. Gratitude for the way that Marbell is whispering, that leads me to believe she hasn’t told anyone else. Joy that I have a piece of Alexander growing inside me.
And fear. All-consuming fear that I’ve hurt my baby. And that if I haven’t,
