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Which life am I supposed to choose?

The drive back passes in a blur. Maggie keeps both hands on the steering wheel, glancing over every few minutes like she's checking to make sure I haven't evaporated.

I stare out the passenger window.

My reflection stares back.

I'm supposed to be getting on a plane.

The word pregnant still doesn't feel attached to me.

Maggie makes it almost ten minutes before she cracks. "Well."

I turn toward her.

She shrugs. "I had a whole speech prepared for when you found out why you were sick."

A semi-hysterical laugh slips out before I can stop it. "Was it a good speech?"

"Excellent. Very supportive. A little dramatic. I was workshopping a tearful hug."

I sink lower in my seat and rub both hands over my face. "I'm pregnant." IT comes out as a groan

"That's what the medical professional said."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

I drop my hands. "Maggie."

She glances over. "Laurel."

The concern in her expression softens the joke.

My chest tightens.

"I'm pregnant," I repeat. Because, apparently, my brain has latched onto those two words and refuses to move on.

Maggie's mouth twitches. "Yeah. You keep bringing it up."

A strangled laugh escapes me.

Then Maggie starts laughing too, and that does me in completely. The sound fills the car while I shake my head and laugh until my eyes sting.

Because what else am I supposed to do?

A few months ago, my biggest concern was finding Maggie.

Then I found her.

After that came Ashby, Briggs, and Torin, along with an entire town that somehow wedged itself into my life before I realized what was happening.

Now I'm driving home from a doctor's appointment with a pregnancy folder in my lap.

I look down at it and start laughing all over again.

Maggie reaches across the console and squeezes my knee.