Prologue

July 3, 2002

Abby sat on the edge of her tub, the white plastic stick in her hand, and thought back to that night. The night after the small pox incident at the hospital. It had begun so innocently. She was just trying to help him cool off and she wanted his reassurance. She needed his reassurance. They had kissed and it had been wonderful. When they’d separated that second time, Susan rounded the corner of the door and had let them know it was all over. The vaccinations were beginning and she asked if Abby could come and help. At the sound of footsteps, Abby had bolted across the room in an obvious attempt to hide what they’d been doing. She didn’t think Susan had noticed, but before she could leave the room, Carter had put his hand on her arm and said, “When are you off?”

She looked at her watch and said, “An hour.”

“Me, too. Can I give you a lift?” She stared up at him, as she’d been doing a moment ago before they’d shared their kiss.

“Sure,” she whispered.

He had taken her home. She had asked if he wanted to come up. He had. They’d spent the night not so much talking as sighing, whispering, moaning, and laughing. It had been very uncomplicated. He’d been okay with that. No talk of feelings. Just simple straightforward sex.

Well, Abby thought now, not just sex. He had made love to her like no one else ever had. He made it seem like making her feel good was his only passion in life. Like seeing the look on her face when she climaxed was as good as oxygen to him.

For the next several weeks things had stayed uncomplicated. They rarely talked about anything other than the basics. At work they were able to interact without anyone noticing anything different. They had been looking at each other with so much longing before they finally did it, that people just assumed it was the usual status quo.

Until last week. June 28. It had been a normal day in the ER. Hectic, but not hellish. Carter had come over to her place after work like normal, but something was different. His face was different. He looked horrible. He wanted to talk; really talk. “Abby, I’m sick of this. We live like we’re a couple, but we can barely hold a conversation. When we started this I thought I could draw you out, but it’s like sex makes you want to hibernate. Now, I’m no expert, but I thought it’s been pretty good. Great, even. But it’s always the same. I come over, we eat, we make love, you want to sleep. Well, tonight I want to talk.”

She should have seen this coming, of course. He’d been edgy, and she knew why. She had hoped that it would just go away. That the sex would be enough, but she should have known better. She had known better. They had argued. He’d told her to give him a reason to stay. In a moment she had thought of thousands of reasons for him to stay. But she couldn’t for the life of her say one out loud.

He’d left her apartment. A week ago. Now, it was the first week of July and she was sitting on the edge of her bathtub holding a pregnancy test in her hand.

She’d been a few weeks late, nothing to worry about, except that she hadn’t worried. She hadn’t even noticed. Not until after Carter had left, and she’d sat on her couch crying, that the thought had even crept into her head. She hadn’t had a period the whole month of June. It was a sobering thought. She’d gone out the next day and gotten a test. She hadn’t been working and so she’d had the whole day to work up the courage. Finally, that evening, she’d taken it. And it was positive.

Sucking in a breath, she threw the thing away. She stared at herself long and hard in the mirror. She knew what she had to do.