Dr. Sarah Conner's expression didn't change when Casey threw up in the middle of her pregnancy confirmation appointment, but her eyes held a spark of recognition that made Casey's stomach clench all over again.

"You're about eight weeks along," Dr. Conner said, checking her tablet. "Everything looks normal so far. Have you told the father yet?"

Casey wiped her mouth with a paper towel, avoiding eye contact. "Not... not yet."

"Mm." Dr. Conner's neutral tone somehow managed to convey volumes. Of course it did—she'd been Drew's lab partner in AP Biology. Had been a bridesmaid at their wedding. Had probably already texted her husband Mark, who played poker with Drew every Thursday night.

"Sarah," Casey started, then corrected herself. "Dr. Conner. I know how Pine Grove works, but—"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality is sacred," Sarah interrupted firmly. "Even in Pine Grove."

Casey slumped with relief. "Thank you."

"But Casey?" Sarah's hand touched her shoulder gently. "He deserves to know."

"I know. I'm just..." Scared. Confused. Not ready for this to be real. "...waiting for the right moment."

The right moment apparently had other plans. Because when Casey walked out of the medical center, there was Helen Thompson—Drew's mother, her almost-ex-mother-in-law—coming up the steps with a manila envelope.

Their eyes met. Helen's gaze dropped to the pamphlets in Casey's hand—Your First Trimester and Prenatal Vitamins: What You Need to Know—before Casey could hide them behind her purse.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Helen's hand flew to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, sweetheart."

"Helen, please—"

"Does Andrew know?"

"No, and you can't—"

But Helen was already pulling her into a fierce hug, right there on the medical center steps. She smelled like she always had—lavender soap and coffee and home—and Casey's own tears started before she could stop them.

"Come over for dinner," Helen whispered. "Tonight. Let me make you my chicken soup. We'll talk."

Casey pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I can't. I have to—"

"Casey Mitchell, don't you dare say you have to work." Helen's tone was pure mom-voice, the same one she'd used when Casey and Drew tried to sneak out as teenagers. "You're carrying my grandbaby. You need a good meal and a shoulder to cry on. Seven o'clock."

It wasn't a question. Casey nodded, defeated. "Please don't tell him."

"I won't. But someone will, honey. You know how this town works."

She did know. Which was why she wasn't surprised when her phone started buzzing before she even reached her car.

Her mother: Just ran into Helen at the medical center. CALL ME RIGHT NOW.

Melissa from work: Um, weird question, but Jenny Parker just texted me asking if you're pregnant? Office gossip is wild lately.

Even her high school chemistry teacher, now retired: Congratulations! Sally at the pharmacy told me the news. Always knew you two kids would work it out.

Casey turned off her phone.

The drive to work was a gauntlet of knowing looks. Mrs. Henderson actually came out of her antique store to wave. The barista at Pine Grove Coffee gave her decaf without being asked, a sympathetic smile on her face.

By the time she reached her office, Casey was ready to scream. Or cry. Or both.

"Your mom called," Melissa said as soon as she walked in. "Three times. Also, Mr. Thompson is waiting in your office."

Casey's heart stopped. "Drew's here?"

"Has been for twenty minutes. He seems... intense."

Shit.

She smoothed her hair, straightened her blazer, and walked into her office like she wasn't having a panic attack. Drew stood at her window, hands in his pockets, shoulders tight with tension. He turned when she entered, and the look in his eyes told her everything.

"So," he said quietly. "Were you going to tell me?"

She closed the door, leaning against it. "How did you—"

"My mother called. In tears. Wanted to know why I hadn't told her about the baby." His laugh held no humor. "Imagine my surprise."

"Drew—"

"Eight weeks." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in that way that used to make her fingers itch to fix it. "That means... The Swimming Hole."

"Yes."

"Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to wait until I moved to Chicago and send me a birth announcement?"

The anger in his voice sparked her own. "I tried to tell you! Three days ago, in your office. But you were so excited about Chicago, and those men were there, and I just..." She deflated. "I couldn't."

"Jesus, Casey." He crossed the room in three strides, close enough that she could smell his cologne. "This is my child too. You don't get to make all the decisions alone anymore."

"Like you decided about Chicago alone?"

"That's different—"

"Is it?" She met his eyes, chin lifted. "Because from where I'm standing, you made a huge life decision without consulting me, and I made one about my body."

"Our baby," he corrected, voice rough. "Not just your body. Our baby."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Real. There was no taking them back now.

"I was going to tell you," she whispered. "I just needed time to figure out how."

"Well, time's up." He stepped back, running both hands through his hair now. "The whole town probably knows by now. Mark Conner texted me twenty minutes ago asking if I wanted to grab a beer and talk about 'the news.'"

Casey sank into her office chair, suddenly exhausted. "I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted you to find out."

"How did you want me to find out? After I signed the Chicago contract? After the divorce was final?" He stopped pacing, looking at her with those impossible green eyes. "Are we even still getting divorced?"

"I don't know." The words came out small, scared. "I don't know anything anymore."

The anger seemed to drain out of him. He sat in one of her client chairs, elbows on his knees. "We need to talk about this. Really talk. No more avoiding, no more excuses."

"I know."

"Dinner? Tonight?"

"I... I already promised your mother I'd come over." She watched his expression carefully. "She invited me for chicken soup."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Her cure-all." He stood, straightening his tie. "Good. We can talk there. Seven?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. "Casey?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared too." The admission was soft, honest in a way they hadn't been with each other in too long. "But we'll figure this out. Together."

He left before she could respond, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Casey pressed her hands to her face, breathing deeply.

Her phone buzzed again on her desk. Probably more congratulations, more questions, more town gossip spreading like wildfire.

"Well, little one," she murmured to her stomach, "I guess the cat's out of the bag. Hope you're ready to be Pine Grove's biggest news since... well, since your parents' divorce."

Through her window, she could see Drew walking to his truck. He paused, looking back up at her office. Their eyes met through the glass.

He lifted his hand in a small wave. After a moment, she waved back.

It wasn't much. But maybe, just maybe, it was a start.

Now she just had to survive dinner with both Drew and his mother, in the house where they'd had their first kiss, their first fight, their first everything.

No pressure.

She glanced at her reflection in the computer screen. "One impossible thing at a time, remember?"

The universe, as usual, didn't answer. But somewhere in Pine Grove, another set of gossip texts was probably flying, spreading the news of Drew Thompson visiting his almost-ex-wife's office.

Some things never changed.

She just hoped she was ready for all the things that had to.