“Yeah, I heard everything Dr. P. said, not just what I selectively chose to hear,” she huffs, shoving the bag onto the floor by her feet. “He’s never seen anything like this before. He doesn’t know for sure what’s going to happen. He’s willing to give it a chance even if you’re not.”

“I’m not putting your life on the line. I refuse to do it.” I press my shoulders against the door, wishing we weren’t in such a confined space. “It’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it? How can you say that about your own child?” She shakes her head, gazing at me with a grief-stricken expression.

“You come first,” I respond, feeling like I just crossed some invisible line.

“So you’re making me choose between you and the baby?” she asks incredulously. “We shouldn’t be on two different sides on this. We should be on the same team, or else how are we ever going to be a family?”

My eyes widen, realizing the full impact of what she is saying.

“I can’t marry someone who is going to make me divide my heart like that. I just can’t, Eric. I can’t love you more than the baby and vice versa. I don’t know how to love that way.” She reaches for the ring box, handing it back to me. “If you want me to love you more than our child—or any of the children we may have someday—I can’t do it. Not after knowing what it’s like to be a mother, no matter how fleeting it may be.”

Her words are cutting me deep, right to the bone. I don’t even know what to say to that. It’s not like she’s twisting my words. She is the first priority in my life. Everything else comes second. That’s not going to change.

“I can’t believe you’re turning me down.” I take the ring and shove it back into my pocket. Aggravated, I grab the bag and start tossing the food back inside. Flicking the wipers, I scan the parking lot before getting out of the truck.

“What are you doing?” Ivy calls out, but I don’t respond. I have to get away from her for a minute. I angrily stomp toward a garbage can, hurling our uneaten meal through the opening. The milkshakes splatter against the rim, staining the cuffs of my jacket, but I don’t even care. Everything’s ruined now anyway.

I glance back over my shoulder and see Ivy sitting there, staring at me through the half-open door of the truck. The wind is whipping the snow across my trail of footprints. I pick up my collar, at odds over what to do. I don’t want to be around Ivy right now, but I have to take her home. I foolishly trashed our lunch, and there’s nothing left in our fridge to eat. I’m going to have to stop for some groceries.

I clamber back in and act like nothing happened. I can feel her eyes on me as I throw the truck into reverse and back onto the road. We sit in silence as I make a right and turn into the nearby shopping complex. I roam the lot, but there’s nowhere to park. As usual, everyone is running for milk and eggs the minute the first snowflake hits the ground. I’m going to be in for quite a hike.

We still haven’t said anything to each other. She’s obviously furious, and I’m upset. Neither of us wants to give way, since we both think we’ve been wronged. She rejected my marriage proposal, and I’m making her choose between me and the baby. We have a lot of issues we need to resolve, but not now, not here.

“I’ll be right back,” I say in an attempt to break the ice. I’d like nothing more than to return to the daily grind and forget about things like engagement rings and transvaginal ultrasounds. I just want us to be normal and forget this day ever happened. “Do you need anything?” I ask, because she always does. Usually it’s something like half a pound of roasted turkey from the deli or a loaf of the rye bread she likes from the bakery. But she just shakes her head, gazing forlornly out the window at the falling snow.

I better make this quick. I jog through the automatic door, dragging a shopping cart along with me. The store is crowded and it takes me longer to get through the aisles than I anticipated. The lines at the check-out are insane, but I bide my time. I plan on making it up to her as I load the ingredients for the pasta dish she’s been craving onto the conveyor belt. I once again reach for my credit card and swipe it through the machine before hightailing it out of there.

As I get closer to the truck, I notice that the engine’s no longer running. Now why would Ivy turn off the heat? It’s freezing out here as I try to navigate the cart through the drifting snow. The back window is covered as I start tossing the bags into the cab. Too bad I left the scraper in the glove compartment. Using my sleeve, I wipe away some of the snow to let Ivy know that I’m back, but she’s not in the truck.

Shit! Where did she go?

The door is unlocked and my keys are dangling in the ignition. I look around for a note, but there isn’t one. Maybe she had to use the restroom or something. Should I wait here until she gets back and warm up the truck? Or should I start searching all of the shops in the plaza? I glance frantically around unsure of what to do and worried that she’s wandering around in this storm as the wind shakes the frame of the truck.

I fumble for my phone with my semi-frozen fingers to call her cell, but relief washes through me when I see that I have a text from Ivy.

I need some time to myself for a while to think things through. I’m fine. I’m safe. Don’t worry about me. If you change your mind about what you said, I’ll see you at next week’s doctor’s appointment. I’ll text you the date and time. I love you, Eric. I just wish you could learn to love this baby as much as I do.

Damn it! Where can she possibly be? I have to find her. She’s in no condition to be walking the streets in this kind of weather, although I know she’s foolish enough to try. I start having flashbacks of her crawling up the embankment behind the pizzeria and walking barefoot down my dirt road. With Ivy, who knows what she’d do?

For a moment, I’m undecided. Should I see if she called my dad for help? But he wouldn’t go behind my back like that. Would she have reached out to Will? But he doesn’t have a car. Would she have contacted Ben? But she can’t stand the guy and I doubt she even has his number.

There’s that friend of hers from school. What’s her name? Sophia? Sophie? But when the semester started, Ivy sort of lost touch with her. And there’s really nobody else Ivy knows in town, at least not well enough that they’d take her in for an extended period of time. There’s only one hotel near the college, but she doesn’t have the money for that. There’s nowhere else she can go.

I have to get home and regroup. Try to figure this out with everyone’s help. We can split up and cover more ground. She has to be around here somewhere. She wouldn’t leave the area, no matter how much she hates my guts right now. She wouldn’t disobey Dr. P.’s orders.

Then my phone rings, displaying a familiar number I usually take great pains to avoid, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Lauren

The holiday season was supposed to lift the Gazette out of the red and into the black. But it seems like these cheapskate mom-and-pop stores are actually cutting their advertising budgets instead of increasing them. If I hear one more person tell me to check back with them after New Year’s, I’m going to scream. Don’t they know that the fourth quarter is when people do most of their spending? Forget about next year. There won’t be a next year.

I slam the phone back onto its cradle and stare stonily at the snow rattling the windowpane. I have to get out of this godforsaken town and join my uncle in L.A. Enough is enough. Who am I kidding? Eric’s little bun in the oven is safe and warm inside Ivy’s big ol’ belly. She nearly miscarried twice in my presence, but that speck of a tadpole is still hanging on. I haven’t been pestering her about returning to work on the script because Eric would probably have me brought up on involuntary manslaughter charges for trying to kill a fetus. He looked insane when he came after me in his driveway. Who knows what he’s capable of at this point?