Beg Somewhere Else, Lucas

Sophia's POV

I spent the night on the edge of the bed with the ultrasound photo in my hands, smoothing the crease I'd put in it. Lucas never came upstairs.

At six-thirty I heard his voice in the kitchen and went down.

His phone was propped against the fruit bowl on speaker. A bowl of oatmeal sat beside it, skinned over and untouched. He stood at the counter with his back to me.

"Mom, Sophia knows exactly what she's doing. She's using this pregnancy to hurt Vanessa."

I stopped in the doorway.

"On the day of her treatment?" Diane's voice crackled through the speaker. "She knew?"

"She knew. She had a cake out. She shoved the ultrasound in Vanessa's face the minute we walked in."

It was the same low, reasonable voice he'd used five years ago at his aunt's Thanksgiving table, when she asked whose fault it was that we didn't have kids yet. He'd put his fork down and said, "Nobody at this table gets to judge my wife." I had loved him so much for that.

I walked in. He glanced over his shoulder, saw me, and kept talking.

"I'm handling it, Mom. I just wanted you to hear it from me first."

"I'm standing right here," I said.

"I know." He picked up his coffee.

On the refrigerator door, under a lemon-shaped magnet, was the card from Dr. Patel's office. My next three appointments were written in my handwriting. He'd walked past it every day for a month.

"Is that her?" Diane asked. "Lucas, take me off speaker."

He didn't. I took my keys off the hook and left.

The pharmacy was almost empty. I set the prenatal vitamins, the iron supplement Dr. Patel had recommended, a box of crackers, and some toothpaste on the counter and slid the family card into the reader.

The machine beeped. The cashier frowned at her screen. "Try it again?"

I tried it again. Card Declined, in block letters.

"Declined again, ma'am. Do you have another card?"

A man behind me shifted his basket to his other arm. My face went hot.

"Yes. Sorry." I dug out the debit card from my own account, the small one I'd kept from before the wedding. It went through. My phone buzzed with the payment alert before she'd even handed me the bag.

I sat in the car with the bag on my lap and didn't start the engine.

Lucas had always handled the household money. "One less thing for you to stress about," he'd said, and I'd let him, because the hormone shots were stress enough. But four months ago the banking password had stopped working, and he'd said he would text me the new one and never did. When I asked to look over the joint statement, he said he'd print it for me. When I wanted to buy a stroller, a changing table, anything, he said, "Let's wait till next month."

Every month it was next month. I'd thought he was being careful. He'd been closing doors one at a time, and I had been thanking him for it.

When I got home, Diane's car was in the driveway.

She sat at the dining table in the chair that should have been mine last night. Vanessa was beside her with a soggy tissue balled in her fist, and Lucas stood behind them both. The cake was gone.

"Sophia." Diane didn't get up. "Sit down, please."

"I'll stand."

She pushed a yellow sticky note across the table. It had a name and a phone number in her neat cursive. "Dr. Ellen Marsh. She's a family counselor, and she's very good. I think you need to deal with this jealousy problem before it does any more damage."

"My jealousy problem."

"Being pregnant doesn't give you the right to be cruel to someone who can't have children."

"I told my husband we were having twins. On our anniversary. In my own house."

"In front of a woman who'd just come from the hospital," Diane said.

"I didn't invite her."

Vanessa made a small, hurt sound. "She's right, Diane. I should go. I'll find somewhere else to stay. I never wanted to come between them."

"You're not going anywhere," Lucas said, and took her hand.

She looked at me with wet eyes while she said how sorry she was. Her fingers stayed curled around his the entire time.

I took out my phone and called my father. He picked up on the first ring.

"Sophie." His voice was careful. "Lucas called me last night."

My stomach dropped. "What did he say?"

"That you announced the pregnancy to humiliate a sick woman. That you've been erratic." He paused. "It didn't sound like you, so I'm asking you. Are you safe in that house?"

Three people were watching me. Lucas raised his eyebrows a little, waiting for me to fall apart in front of his mother.

"I'm okay, Dad."

"I can be there in two hours. Say the word and I'll come get you."

My throat closed. I pressed the phone hard against my ear and stared at the sticky note until the numbers stopped swimming. "I'll call you back soon. I promise."

I hung up with dry eyes. I left the note on the table and went upstairs.

I wanted my passport, my birth certificate, and my insurance card. They were in the top drawer of the dresser, and I had them in my hand when I noticed the envelope leaning against the mirror.

It was heavy cream paper with a law firm's name printed in the corner. Brandt & Lowe, Family Law. It had already been slit open.

The roll of silver ribbon I'd bought for his gift box was beside it, still in its plastic.

I pulled the pages out. Draft Separation Agreement. Under the title was the date it had been prepared.

Three days ago.

Three days ago I was standing in a stationery aisle holding two kinds of wrapping paper, texting my sister to ask whether navy or silver looked more like him.

I turned pages until I found the section on household expenses. Each party would be solely responsible for his or her own living costs from the date of separation. There was a paragraph about the house and one about the cars. I read the section twice, looking for the words children, pregnancy, or medical. They weren't there. Someone had written around my babies as if they didn't exist.

I carried it downstairs.

Diane had moved to the couch. Lucas was by the window, and he saw what was in my hand without a flicker of surprise.

"You left this out for me to find," I said.

"I figured it was easier than a conversation."

"There's nothing in here about the twins. Not one line."

"Because there don't need to be twins." He said it evenly, like he was explaining a bill. "I gave you an option last night. If you insist on keeping them, don't expect me to keep paying for your choices."

"They're your children."

"They're your decision. I've made mine."

Diane studied her hands and said nothing.

Something moved at the edge of the room. Vanessa stood at the foot of the stairs with one hand on the banister, watching us. She wasn't crying now. My mother's blanket hung from her other hand, the blue stitching pinched between her fingers.

I turned back to the first page and read the date again, slowly, in case I'd gotten it wrong.

I hadn't. Last night wasn't a man losing his temper. Before I ever lit a candle or opened my mouth, Lucas had already hired a lawyer and started planning his life without me in it.