A Chance at Love

Chapter11

“Scotland.” I say softly into the phone, staring at my noodles.

I couldn’t tell if I was having some kind of pregnancy induced fantasy or if I’d really just heard my friend properly. There was no way that the man I’d slept with all those months ago, the man I’d tried to find, had been under my nose this entire time. What kind of messed up twisted cliché was I currently living through.

“Luna, did you hear me?” Clara’s voice is filled with concern and softness.

“Uh-huh,” I murmur, standing to take my noodles to the kitchen. “You said that Jordan’s best friend is the same guy who knocked me up.” My tone is flat, disbelieve in each syllable.

Clara sighs. “Apparently, Jordan showed Marcus our photo from the party last night and well-now I’m calling you to tell you.” She is silent for a moment. “He wants your number, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“My number?” I say, placing my hand over my stomach.

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you? Crap, I knew I should have come over there, but I’ve got this deadline and,” Clara sounds panicked.

I look down at my belly and sigh before cutting her off. “It’s okay. Um, give him my number I guess.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost hear Clara’s relief mixing with apprehension. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

I drop my phone onto the counter and lean against it, feeling the weight of everything pressing against my skin. “No, it’s fine. I think…I need to know what he wants.” My voice quivers, but there’s a tiny spark of resolve inside me that wasn’t there before.

Clara exhales. “Okay, I’ll text him. And Luna? Call me if you need anything, seriously. I’ll ditch my deadline for you.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “Thanks, Clara.” As I hang up, a thousand possibilities swirl in my mind, and I wonder which one is about to walk back into my life.

I head to my room to lay down, clutching my phone to my chest. All these months, I’d given up any hope of ever seeing him again, and now here I was, waiting for the moment when I’d hear his voice. I couldn’t tell if I was excited or terrified.

Minutes slip by in quiet waves, each one stretching longer than the last. I scroll mindlessly through my phone, my heart skipping every time it buzzes, only to find notifications that have nothing to do with him. The uncertainty gnaws at me—a restless ache beneath my ribs—while the sunlight cuts through my curtains, painting my bedroom in soft light.

When my phone finally lights up with a new message, my pulse stutters. It’s a number I don’t recognize. Hesitation flickers inside me, but I open it anyway, bracing myself for whatever comes next. “Hey Luna, it’s Marcus. Can we talk?” For a moment, I simply stare at the words, the reality of it settling over me. Everything is about to change, and I’m not sure if I’m ready—but I know I have to try.

##Marcus

I glance at my phone and see that my message has been marked as ‘read’. Moments tick by—notification dots appear, then vanish again. After a minute, her name pops up; she’s calling. I hit that answer button and press my phone against my ear. “Luna,”

I hear a sharp intake of breath before she speaks. “Marcus,”

For a heartbeat, neither of us says anything. The silence is thick, humming with all the words we left unsaid for so long. I can hear her breathing, steady but tentative, as if she’s searching for the courage to break the barrier between us. My own words hover on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t trust my voice not to crack.

“I wrote you all my information before I left,” She says finally, regret thick in her words, “I didn’t realize I still had it until I was on the plane,” her voice trails off.

“I looked for you, tried to bribe the hotel even. Almost got the police called on me.” I reply.

She laughs and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard. “We’ve really messed this whole thing up, haven’t we?” There’s a pause, followed by a deep breath being taken. “I guess Jordan probably told you about,”

“The baby. Yes, he mentioned that.” I couldn’t bring myself to ask if I was the father or not. A part of me already knew the answer, even before the words were spoken. I hesitate, unsure how much she wants to say, but the question hangs unspoken between us. My mind races, piecing together what little I know, wondering if I should ask or just listen. “Yeah, he mentioned a few things,” I say gently, not wanting to push her. “But I’d rather hear it from you, if you want to talk about it.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. I imagine her sitting on the edge of her bed, sunlight in her hair, weighing what to say. Finally, her voice wavers as she speaks, “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way, Marcus. I tried to find you, really wanted to.” Another long pause. “But yes, I’m pregnant and they’re yours.”

I sit there a moment, letting her words wash over me. Not the admittance. The actual words. “Luna-they? Did you just imply that you’re pregnant with,”

“Twins.” She says quietly. Then she lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m calling them Thing One and Thing Two, for the moment.”

My breath hitches, a combination of disbelief and something dangerously close to joy twisting inside me. “Twins?” I repeat, the word strange and wonderful on my tongue. A thousand images flicker through my mind—tiny hands, midnight feedings, laughter echoing in rooms I’ve never seen. “Wow, Luna. I just…” I trail off, overwhelmed, searching for words big enough to hold the magnitude of what she’s told me. “That’s… a lot. But I’m here. I want to be here, for you and for them.”

“Marcus,” she whispers through the phone and I frown when I hear her sniffle, “Can you come to New York?”