I waited until the delivery guy left and the office noise settled back into its usual hum before lifting the lid.
The smell of vanilla frosting hit me first. Then I saw the writing.
Neatly piped in dark chocolate letters across the pink icing were four words that made my vision blur:
“I am divorcing you.”
For a second, my brain refused to process what my eyes were seeing. I laughed once, short and breathless, convinced this had to be some kind of sick mistake.
Legal divorce resources
Then I noticed what lay beside the cake.
A small white stick. Plastic. Familiar.
A positive pregnancy test.
The world tilted.
For illustrative purposes only
My fingers went numb as I gripped the edge of the desk. Sounds faded, replaced by a roaring in my ears. Jake had found it. The test I’d hidden in the back of the bathroom cabinet, behind towels and cleaning supplies, hoping—foolishly—that I’d have time to explain everything properly.
I hadn’t even told him yet. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was terrified.
Terrified of hope.
Terrified of disappointment.
ADVERTISEMENT
