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“It’s Wyatt’s,” I answer quickly.

“You’re certain?”

I nod, wiping away more tears. “When I felt sick today, I checked my calendar to see when my last period was. I should have gotten it around the time I left Houston. That means my last period was about seven weeks ago. I was already pregnant when I left Wyatt. In fact, I got pregnant during the away game in Nashville when I saw those earrings he ended up giving Lila.”

She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “How do you feel?”

“Still queasy and lightheaded.”

“Not that.” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “How do you feel about Wyatt being the father?”

I stare at the chip in the corner of one of the tiles on the floor, searching my brain for an answer that explains how I’m feeling right now.

The excitement I’ve dreamed of.

The grief that it’s happening now.

The fear.

The anger.

The tiny flicker of something that feels a lot like hope.

“Confused,” I finally say. “I’ve been wanting to get pregnant for so long…”

“I know, sweetie.” She moves her hand up and down my arm, trying to soothe the storm brewing inside me.

“And when I saw the result on that test…” My voice breaks, and I return my tear-filled eyes to her. “Do you want to know the first thing I thought of?”

“What’s that?”

“That I wished it were negative.”

She wraps me in another hug. “Oh, Wynter.”

I bury my face against her shoulder, just like I did whenever I had a bad day as a teenager. But back then, I cried over messing up a routine in a dance competition or not being allowed to stay out late with my friends. I didn’t cry over finally getting what I’ve always wanted, just not at the right time.

“All those years. All those negative tests. And the one time it is positive…” I curl my hands into her shirt, unable to finish my thought.

“You know what I always say, don’t you?”

I pull back and meet her eyes. “What’s that?”

“God never gives us more than we can handle.”

I bark out a laugh. “If you ask me, God has a pretty twisted sense of humor.”

“I won’t argue with that.” She gives me a sincere smile. “But you can handle this. We’ll support you, no matter what you decide.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“You know you have a choice, right?”

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to terminate. Not after everything I’ve been through to get pregnant.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Mom says quickly. “I’m talking about what role you want Wyatt to have in your life.”

I press my lips together, my gaze fixed on the tile floor once more.