Good Morning, Loves!

All mistakes are on me.


Twenty-Five: Bella

October 5, 2022

Cambridge, England

"Well Mrs. Cullen, it looks like you are indeed expecting."

My eyes narrow. Not just because he said I do in fact have a Sperm Spawn on my hands, but because no one calls me Mrs. Cullen and am I really mature enough to share names with fucking Esme Cullen?

"Uh huh," I say, nodding slowly. "So, when can we expect this-" I catch myself before the word Spawn comes out of my mouth. "Uh… when am I due?"

The doctor gives me somewhat of a patronizing smile. "Well, given how certain you are of conception," he eyes me and I nod. I'm fucking positive. "My best estimate would be Mid May."

My eyes narrow. "Can't we put a firm date on it? You know, like an eviction notice or something?"

He looks alarmed and I guess I don't blame him.

"Well," he clears his throat. "Yes I can give you a date, but it won't ensure anything."

"Then what's the fucking point?" I snap.

He stares at me. "Right," he clears his throat. "Might I recommend a few things for you to help you relax?"

I huff. "Thanks, but that's how I got knocked up to begin with."

The doctor clears his throat, but then nods. "Okay, right. Well, I'll just." He clears his throat again. "The first thing will be to remove your IUD, now that we've been able to confirm your pregnancy is intrauterine." He glances up at me anxiously from his clipboard. Why is he so nervous? He's making me nervous the more he fidgets.

"What, am I dying?" The words spit from my mouth before I can stop myself, and he flinches, his eyes going wide.

"W-what? Certainly not."

I suck in a deep breath and push my hands through my hair. He's the worst doctor. "I'll get someone to remove your device. Please sit tight, Mrs. Cullen." He leaves the exam room before I can say anything else.

Forty painful minutes—during which most of my pain comes from the awkward staff rather than the removal of my IUD—and I'm finally free.

I'm told that everything with Spawn should be fine—the removal of my IUD was successful—but it brings me very little reassurance. I have a fucking lifetime of things to worry about with Spawn. It's no secret I have an asshole for a mom. Dad is great, but he wasn't exactly father of the year. He did what he needed to provide for me, and I know he did his best, but true crime documentaries and shows about conspiracy theories on the Discovery channel basically raised me.

I'm a barely functioning human, let alone adult, and now I have to be someone's parent when I've had questionable at best parent models myself? The odds are pretty stacked against me on this.

Not for the first time, I think about calling the girls. I used to share everything with them, but I haven't even tried to call them since I first suspected I was pregnant. It's not that I don't want to talk to them. I'm just fucking scared. Because telling them will make it more real than telling Edward, and I'm just not ready to face that.

So instead of pulling out my phone and waking their asses up, I head for home.