Chapter 40 - Lucy
The nurse tells me to sit for ten minutes after the injection, just to be safe. I nod and do as I’m told, even though I’ve done this enough times now that my body barely reacts anymore. A dull ache in my arm. A familiar heaviness low in my abdomen. A quiet, steady reminder that time is always doing something to you, whether you’re ready for it or not.
Eleven weeks. That’s how long it’s been since the last shot.
I stare at the pale blue wall across from me and do the math without trying to. I’d talked to my doctor this morning, really talked this time, not just nodded and agreed and swallowed down questions because everything else felt more urgent.
“This can be your last one,” she’d said gently. “It can take months for things to level out. Sometimes longer. On average, women need about nine months before their cycle fully regulates again and they are able to conceive.”
Nine months.
I pull my phone out of my bag and type a note to myself instead of texting Julian.Talk to him tonight.Not because I’m afraid of his reaction, this is something we have talked about, but because I want the moment to be real. Face to face. Grounded.
The nurse checks on me once more, then waves me out with a smile.
At the front desk, the receptionist asks whether she should book me for eleven weeks.
A small smile tips the corners of my mouth up, and I say. “No, this should be my last one for a while, but the doctor said she put in a note on my file that if I change my mind, I can be booked in.”
I’m about to meet Julian and his parents for lunch. That fact still feels surreal enough that I have to repeat it to myself as I walk toward the restaurant, the city buzzing around me with early spring energy. The air smells different now. Less sharp. Less brittle. Like something is thawing. He has kept us separate, something I feel has been intentional.
They’re already seated when I arrive.
All three of them.
Julian stands immediately when he sees me, relief flickering across his face so quickly I almost miss it. Elaine watches me with that careful, unreadable look she’s perfected. Richard barely looks up from his phone.
“Oh,” Elaine says mildly. “She’s allowed to be late.”
I freeze for half a second before smoothing it over.
“My apologies,” I say warmly. “My doctor was running behind. You know how that goes.”
Julian’s hand brushes my lower back as I slide into the chair beside him, grounding and familiar. The gesture settles me instantly.
The server arrives, menus already in hand. I scan mine out of habit, then set it aside.
“I’ll just have water, please.”
Richard looks up this time.
“Good news from the doctor today?” he asks, casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.
What?
Does he know?
Did Julian tell them?
Why would he?
Julian answers before I can. “Lucy, did you want to start with something lighter?”
It’s a redirect. Clean. Intentional.
Elaine watches us both closely.
Lunch orders are placed. Conversation shifts to neutral ground, Northwell expansion plans, a donor event in June, and Elaine’s charity work. I answer when spoken to, polite and present, but I feel slightly off balance, like I stepped onto a moving surface without realizing it.