The obstetrician's office is littered with spliced models of the human reproductive system. While I lay on the table awaiting her return, I stare at the model of the female pelvis, little beans morphing into babies inside. My heart rate quickens just looking at it. Reaching down to spin my wedding ring, a nervous trait, I find nothing on the finger, a bare circle of white skin, a slight indent from years of wear.

The door clicks open and she reappears, positioning herself on the swivel chair beside me. She takes the ultrasound wand in her hand, depositing the freezing cold jelly on my abdomen.

I'm silent.

"You can breathe," she reassures me with a smile, and I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

She resumes her search of my insides, settling on a small mass of black inside a bigger mass of gray on the monitor. None of it resembles anything I'd expected.

"There's the little nugget," she points to the screen.

It's a dot, a white dot, but it's moving. Vibrating back and forth, wriggling. A heartbeat.

"102 beats per minute," she says.

"How many weeks?" I ask because I've never done this before, never got this far. I need to know for sure.

She measures both sides of it with a ruler device on the screen, then clicks away at her keyboard one-handed.

"I would say somewhere between seven, eight weeks."

I nod, letting the words sink in. Of course, I know the date, but hearing her confirmation helps to confront this new reality.

"Why now? Why after all the failed IVF rounds, does it happen now?" I shake my head, confused by it all.

She shrugs, "I wish I knew, if I knew I'd be the richest obstetrician in the world. Sometimes, the anatomy stars align at just the perfect time in just the perfect settings. Your ovulation was probably still stimulated from all the injections. I see it often, when you stop trying, you relax, and nature does what it knows best."

With a few more clicks of her keyboard, the printer whirs and she passes me three stills of the ultrasound before wiping the jelly from my stomach.

"Dawson will be thrilled, I bet," she says, turning off the monitor.

I hesitate for a moment. Of course she thinks it's Dawson, she's been here through all of this with us. Why wouldn't it be Dawson?

I don't know what to say. Which happens when I have to say these things to people I know, then the way they look at me changes. I'm tainted in their eyes.

Like Jack, like Bessie, even Jen sometimes.

"Dawson and I aren't together, this isn't…" I don't finish the sentence, but she nods, understanding, a little O forming on her lips.

"Well, that explains it all the more. Different couple, different circumstances."

I smile as much as I can muster.

"Try to be happy Joey, maybe it's not the path you envisioned for your family, but it will be your family, in just shy of eight short months."

I thank her and leave the offices in a daze. That's the problem, I am happy, happier than I've been in years. But that happiness hinges on telling one person about this life inside of me, and now I just need to find him.

On the drive home, the word she said floats around in my head, it's one that I never really thought of with Pacey, but I enjoy the way it sounds, I say it out loud.

"Family."


I turn up at Jen's door and knock.

She lives only ten minutes walk from my own. As I approach the entrance, I step over pink bikes strewn across the path and a helmet beside a pot plant.

I can hear the kids running around on creaking floorboards, fighting.

The door opens, "Joey?" Jen looks surprised. I rarely do day visits. "Come in, come in."

We walk through the hallway, dodging toys and a box of opened raisins towards the kitchen.

"Do you want a coffee?"

I shake my head.

"What's going on?" She turns and studies me, "Are you okay?"

I shake my head again.

Jen takes my hand, pulling me into her office, a small room just off the kitchen. She closes the door and locks it.

"This is the only room in the house with a proper lock. The kids can't get to us here."

I lean against her desk.

"Is it Dawson? Did something happen?"

I'm afraid. Scared to tell her. Jen is the only friend who is still speaking to me. Once I tell her the truth, I fear she'll cut me off too.

"I'm pregnant."

Her hands fly to her open mouth in shock, "Oh my god, Joey! Really?"

I nod. She wraps me in the tightest hug, the hug only a friend could give after being by my side after all the disappointment and difficulty of trying for a baby for so long. The waves of her blonde locks tickle at my face and I hug her back.

"I'm so happy for you," her eyes mist and she swipes at them, "Have you told Dawson?" she asks.

I pause, shaking my head, "It's not Dawson's."

"Oh?"

I nod.

"Pacey?" she asks.

I nod again.

Jen stares at me, eyes bulging, "When?"

"The night he took me to Capeside."

"You casually left that out when you told me about that day," she says, a little bitterly.

"We got very drunk. Very drunk. I wasn't exactly proud of it. And it happened just before Dawson found out about the night before the wedding, so everything kind of became a blur. I haven't heard from Pacey since. He's been avoiding me completely. I don't know what to do!" Tears form, and I pull at my face in frustration.

"Relax," she stops me, wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me close. "You are going to be fine, this is fine, Joey. He's probably staying away from you because he's ashamed of what happened. But you need to tell him, Jo. He needs to know this."

She releases her grasp, pulls out her phone and starts scrolling. Jen is a do-er. She takes action. I feel powerless. Shame does that, it eats at you until you lose confidence. It makes you want to burrow inside, hide from the world, hide from yourself.

The phone is to her ear. I can only hear her side of the conversation.

Hey.

I'm good, you?

It's Gracie's birthday next Friday, just wondering if you are in Boston at the moment, if you can come?

Oh, really? Great.

I'll be coming past your restaurant tonight, how about I drop in the official invite, will you be there?

Okay, great, see you later.

She hangs up and looks at me.

"He's there, go tonight."


Alone, sitting on the gutter, I wait for him. Wait for the restaurant to close, for him to count the final takings, help place all the chairs on tables.

It's dark, the evening still warm. Wearing just a white t-shirt and jeans, I realize I forgot to brush my hair this morning, so I pull an elastic from my wrist and flick it into a bun. Staring up at the black sky, I search for a place that stars should be, but they are thwarted from shining by the city lights. I pick at the skin on my fingers, digging into them, a pit of dread resting at the bottom of my stomach, churning.

Nerves or not, I need to do this. He needs to know.

Finally, the door opens, Pacey exits out with a short brunette. She calls out goodbye and walks to a white Camry as Pacey locks up.

He turns and pauses, recognizing me, even in the darkness.

"Just a regular Thursday night for you hey, hanging in the gutter?" he teases and folds himself in half to sit beside me, nudging my arm lightly but not making eye contact.

He's nervous. So am I. There is a lot to be nervous about.

"Let me guess, Jen's phone call was reconnaissance?" he asks.

"Something like that," I say and turn toward him, "Do you realize how horrible it feels knowing you answered Jen's call, not my own? That I'm here, having to stalk you out in the first place," I question, staring at his face, imploring him for answers.

He hangs his head and studies the asphalt.

"Jo. What option did I have?"

"You could stop running away and talk to me."

"I'm not running away."

I raise my eyebrows at him, challenging his statement.

He exhales and faces the sky, "I didn't mean to do this. To come back and ruin everything. I'm attempting to distance myself from the situation, for fear of any more carnage."

"Why did you come back into our lives if you were just going to cut us off again? It's not fair on anyone. Why, Pace? And don't say just for the business."

"I thought five years would be enough. I was under the misguided notion that five years would somehow void everything and I could come back, and have the old gang of friends in my life and just be Pacey." He pauses, "But it seems I'm back and have made things worse if that was even possible."

I don't speak, just waiting for him to continue.

"I am a terrible friend to you - to Dawson, to everyone. I've broken up my marriage because of it and now probably yours." He runs his hand through his hair, frustration in his tone. "I'm so fucking ashamed of myself, I'm embarrassed. That's why I'm avoiding you, Jo. I'm sorry. But I can't be around you, I'm like a fucking wrecking ball. I can't do this anymore."

I fight back the tears.

"Why can't you be around me?" comes out as a whisper.

He groans, exasperated, "You know why."

"Why?" the word exits my mouth loudly now, desperate. I need to hear his answer. Our relationship is built on these secrets, on fleeting moments of passion that steamroll the friendship and at the end of the day, is that all it is? Snatched flashes of lust that do nothing but decimate relationships?

"We keep playing these games together and ending up in the bedroom. I try so fucking hard to just be your friend. I've only been back for four months, for God's sake. But you're you and there is clearly something between us we can't seem to suppress. I find myself thinking about you all the time. You're incredible, Jo, you're smart and funny and you're beautiful and I love you," he stands up from the gutter and starts pacing, "I don't know how to stay away, so it's easier for me, better for everyone if I just, I don't know, have a clean break… again?"

It was almost lost in a flurry of words, but it was there.

Love.

My hands shake and I clasp them together. I needed to hear that, to know I wasn't crazy.

He felt it too.

I don't know what to say. We seem to keep bouncing back to each other at each turn, I convinced myself it was one sided. Five years, over 1800 days, and I still think about him every single day.

Pacey continues, "Not long after your wedding Audrey started to suspect something was wrong. She couldn't believe that I'd willingly leave my best friend's wedding to be with her and her mother in LA. So I told her what happened between us, but I said that it meant nothing to me." He stops, takes a steadying breath and sighs, "She's not stupid, she knew. But you know how determined Audrey can be. So we ran back to New York, and I promised to repair it. Her caveat for staying with me was that I sever all contact with you. Which, at the time, made sense. You were starting your life with Dawson, coming back could ruin everything."

"But it didn't work? You couldn't repair it?" I ask.

"No. After you lose someone's trust like that, well, it's hard to get it back. Everything was tainted with what happened between us."

I stare at the road, fully comprehending how much pain I caused in their marriage, not just my own. He stops pacing and bends down beside me again, sitting a little further away this time.

"When you sent me the text that Audrey had told Dawson, I wasn't surprised. I knew when I saw her at Dawson's party that it was a likelihood. She may have moved on, but the anger was still there, at me and at you too. Can't say I blame her."

We sit in silence. Processing, assessing the destruction in our wake. But from that destruction, a life was created, and I need to tell him. I need to be brave.

"Pacey, you can't keep running away from me. Ghosting me won't make me disappear."

"I won't Jo. You know the whole truth now. I have got nothing to run from."

"You better not, because I have to tell you something."

"Yeah?"

I practice the words in my head for a moment, before letting them fall from my lips. When they come, they're surprisingly easy to say.

"I'm pregnant."

He freezes, staring at me.

"Wow," he stutters, "Congratulations."

My heart beats so loud I'm sure he can hear it over the sounds of the city at night.

He places his hand gently on my leg, expression inscrutable, "There you go, Jo, now I need to leave. I need to be out of the picture so you and Dawson can raise your baby."

"Pacey," I pause and take his hand, "I haven't slept with Dawson in over eleven months. Our last IVF round was nearly five months ago. I'm eight weeks pregnant."

His eyelashes flutter as he calculates in his head.

"Pacey, the baby is yours."

He covers his cheeks with his hands and peers up to the absent stars.

My heart is in my throat, waiting for a reaction in the silence.

He finally looks at me, blue eyes in the dim streetlight.

"You're serious?"

I nod.

"Dawson and I are over. We ended it. He's gone. It's done. To be honest, it's been done for a long time. Long before he left."

His hands run up and down his legs over and over, processing.

The truth was, I hadn't thought past telling Pacey. All I knew is that he needed to know. He was part of this madness whether he liked it or not. What came next was a mystery.

"But I thought you couldn't…?" he hesitates.

"Get pregnant?" I say and shrug. There was never a diagnosed 'problem' it just was a problem, conceiving. Maybe all along, the universe knew that with Dawson it just wasn't right?

But I don't say that. Everything is too fresh, too raw.

"I want this baby, I am going to do this and it would be nice if you were around."

Pacey looks wounded, but his eyes hold mine with sincerity, "I am not going anywhere."

I stare at him.

"I swear, Jo."

He smiles, reaching over and taking my hand in his. The pads of his fingertips tour the back of my knuckles, tracing the dips and curves. I can almost hear the thoughts ruminating in his head, absorbing all of this new information.

"Are you okay? Do you feel okay?" He asks.

"I'm fine, a little nauseated when I don't eat, but otherwise fine."

"What is it with us? We seem to do everything backwards, sideways, every way but the right way?"

"I don't know. We're not linear, that's for sure."

Pacey's fingers continue to circle, and I momentarily forget that we're sitting in a gutter, in the dark. Two adulterers, having to deal with the realities of their lies, and this was only the beginning.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small printout from the ultrasound. Black and white fuzziness of a life growing inside me. Passing it to Pacey, he holds it up to the streetlight and focuses.

"Beautiful," he says, unable to tear his eyes away. It's only a gray mass with a blip of a white dot, but he doesn't seem to care. That blip has a heartbeat. It's going to be a baby.

Our baby.

"Keep it, I have a copy."

He stares for a little longer before placing it in his top pocket.

"So what are we going to do here?" he asks tentatively.

"I have no idea."

He laughs, and I can't help but follow. This situation is so awkward it borders on ridiculous. I guess all we can do is laugh.

He settles, "Is it bad that I feel both terrible and fantastic at the same time?"

"I know the feeling."

On paper, my life is falling apart, but I'm happy for the first time in a long time.

Pacey hesitates for a moment, bringing my hand to his face, "I feel more fantastic than terrible," he whispers against my knuckles and presses warm lips to my hand.

"Me too."


Author Notes:

This is the ending of Part One of this series. I'll be back with Part Two Soon as there is much more of this story to tell. Thank you so much for all your comments and follows, it has been a great inspiration to keep going.