Page 26 of Bluebell Promises

“But I don’t know if Wren’s fit to take care of a dog for long,” Landon said. “Celia always says she’ll be on her way soon. She’ll jump back on the road, and we’ll see her again in a few years.”

Ben’s stomach churned. “I guess that’s true. But we’ll find Pierre or Pudding or whatever a good home. Maybe it’ll be here, with me. Who knows?”

“You can’t get too lonely over there on me,” Landon said. “Let me set you up with someone. There are plenty of beautiful and single women in and around Bluebell Cove.”

“Hah. Good one,” Ben said.

“I’m not joking,” Landon said.

But Ben was already searching in his mind for a way to get off the phone.

14

Three days after Wren confessed her pregnancy to Ivy, Ivy knocked on the door and told Wren to get up and get dressed. “We’re going to the doctor,” she said.

Wren was in the midst of horrific nausea. Her stomach roiled and rocked, and her head spun. “I can’t go to the doctor right now,” she told Ivy. “I’ll throw up.”

But Ivy crossed her arms and looked at Wren in a way that reminded Wren, if not of her own mother, of any other mother, of the way mothers could be domineering in the face of needing you to do something “for your own good,” so Wren pulled herself together, put on a dress, and followed her sister out the door. Once in the front seat of Ivy’s car, she pulled down the window and took big gulps of air to try to calm herself.

“Why did you make me an appointment?” she asked Ivy, as though she didn’t know the answer. Of course she did. Ivy was a worrier and a control freak. Even if Ivy didn’t fully believe that Wren was going to leave her baby behind with her, she was going to take control or pretend to. Wren wondered if this was also part of the reason she’d come back to Bluebell Cove. Maybe she’d needed Ivy to take control, in a way.

Even if it annoyed her to her bones. Even if it made her feel really young. Even if it made her feel weak.

But just as the Greek doctor had a few weeks ago, the Bluebell Cove doctor—named Dr. Mills—told her that she was healthy, that the baby was growing wonderfully, and that they would monitor the situation going forward. “You want to give birth here in Bluebell Cove?” he asked. “I understand you’ve been traveling.”

Wren gave Ivy a side-eyed look. How much had Ivy told the doctor over the phone? She imagined Ivy complaining to the doctor about Wren, as though that were any of his business. Unless it was his business? There was so much about this relationship that she didn’t understand.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here in Bluebell,” she said. “I’m a travel photographer, so work takes me everywhere. Right now, it brought me home to photograph Bluebell and the surrounding coastline. But I never know what comes next.”

The truth was, she’d maybe squeezed as much as she could out of that Bluebell Cove client. They’d loved her work, and they’d paid her wonderfully, but it wasn’t enough to kick-start her traveling again. She felt trapped with Ivy. She felt trapped with her dwindling bank account and her ever-growing belly.

“Tell her she should stay here and focus on her health,” Ivy said to the doctor.

Dr. Mills grimaced. He was probably accustomed to seeing fights between married couples, so maybe fights between sisters were something different, for a change. “I think it’s important to make sure you’re getting enough rest and focusing on your nutrition. As long as that’s happening, I can’t stop you from going and doing whatever you need to do. To a point. It’s not recommended to fly after thirty-six weeks. Maybe you know that?”

Wren had, of course, heard that through the years. But she’d never applied it to her own life, as having a baby had never felt like something she’d do.

“I know that,” Wren said, laughing. “Of course I do.”

Back in the car, Ivy and Wren were quiet. Ivy hadn’t yet started the engine, and they sat in the parking lot at the doctor’s office, staring into space. The heat broke suddenly, and rain pattered against the front window. It was calming, although it made Wren want to go back to her room and sleep.

“I want to ask you this,” Ivy said. “But I don’t know how to ask it.”

Wren rolled her eyes into the back of her head. She’d known this was coming. “Just ask.”

Ivy turned to look at her. Wren felt the intensity of her gaze. “Who is the father, Wren?”

When Wren didn’t ask right away, Ivy closed her eyes and muttered, “You do know who he is, don’t you?”

Wren was flabbergasted. She turned and glared at her sister. “Of course I do.”

Ivy raised her shoulders. “How am I supposed to know that? I don’t know who you know. I don’t know what you do.”

“But you should know that I would take care of myself. No matter what.” Wren took a breath. “I mean, the baby was an accident, obviously. But I thought, I mean. I was in love, I mean.” She would not tell Ivy about Angelos. She couldn’t.

Ivy continued to give Wren an awful, penetrating stare. “Does he know about the baby?”

Wren flared her nostrils and looked away from her sister.