There were exactly twenty-seven ceiling tiles in the waiting room of Thompson Construction. Casey had counted them three times, trying to ignore the curious stares from Drew's receptionist, Jenny Parker—who just happened to be her former third-grade student council running mate and current town gossip maven.

"He's running a little late," Jenny said for the fourth time, her eyes gleaming with undisguised interest. "Big meeting about the Chicago project. But I'm sure he'll be done any minute. Can I get you more water?"

Casey glanced at her still-full paper cup and shook her head. Her stomach was already doing enough flips without adding more liquid. "I'm fine, thanks."

She wasn't fine. She was so far from fine that fine was a distant memory. After three days of rehearsing this conversation in her mirror, she'd finally worked up the courage to tell Drew about the pregnancy. She'd even practiced different versions: casual ("So, funny story..."), professional ("We need to discuss a development that affects both of us..."), and direct ("I'm pregnant, it's yours, and I'm keeping it."). None of them felt right.

The office had changed since she'd last been here. New paint on the walls—a warm gray replacing the industrial beige—and actual art instead of those horrible motivational posters Drew's father had insisted on. She recognized Drew's touch in the improvements. He'd always had an eye for design, even if his father had dismissed it as impractical.

"I don't get why you care so much about paint colors," his father had said at their first house, watching Drew carefully tape off the crown molding. "Beige is beige."

"It's not just about the color," Drew had explained, that patient teacher tone he got when talking about his work. "It's about how it makes people feel. How it changes the whole space."

She'd loved him like that—passionate, focused, careful with details everyone else overlooked. When had they stopped seeing those things in each other?

The sound of approaching voices snapped her back to present. Drew's laugh—his professional one, not the real one she still heard in her dreams—echoed down the hallway.

"—definitely want to move forward with the timeline," a man's voice was saying. "Chicago's excited to have you on board."

Casey's stomach dropped. The door opened, and Drew emerged with two men in expensive suits. He stopped short when he saw her, surprise flickering across his face before his professional mask slipped back into place.

"Casey. I didn't know you were—" He caught himself, turning to the suits. "Gentlemen, this is Casey Mit— This is Casey. Casey, these are Jack Reynolds and Steve Whitman from Midwest Development."

Steve—Sandra's nephew, of course, because Pine Grove couldn't resist making everything interconnected—gave her a knowing look. "Drew's told us great things about your marketing work. Maybe we can poach you for Chicago too."

The world tilted sideways. She grabbed the edge of Jenny's desk, grateful she hadn't drunk that water.

"Casey? Are you okay?" Drew stepped forward, concern breaking through his professional veneer. His hand hovered near her elbow, not quite touching.

"Fine. Just... stood up too fast." She forced a smile. "Nice to meet you both. Drew, do you have a minute? About those contractor insurance quotes?"

Understanding dawned in his eyes—she'd always used work as their cover story for personal conversations. "Of course. Gentlemen, I'll email you those revised plans this afternoon."

The suits departed, leaving behind the scent of expensive cologne and the weight of unasked questions. Jenny pretended to be fascinated by her computer screen, though Casey knew she was recording every detail for later distribution.

"My office?" Drew gestured down the hall.

She nodded, following him past photos of construction projects—their little town growing up and out under his company's guidance. His office was different too. Bigger. The desk they'd found at that antique store in college replaced by something sleek and modern. But he still had that silly stress ball she'd given him for his first day as project manager, the one shaped like a tiny hard hat.

He closed the door, leaning against his desk instead of sitting behind it. "You look..." He trailed off, studying her face. "Are you sure you're okay? You're pale."

"Chicago?" The word came out sharper than she'd intended.

He ran a hand through his hair—a nervous tell she'd known since high school. "I was going to tell you. It's not final yet, but the opportunity is... it's big, Casey. The kind of project that could really put us on the map."

"Us meaning the company."

"Yes. No. I don't know." He sighed. "What's really going on? You didn't come here to talk about insurance quotes."

This was her moment. She'd rehearsed this. She opened her mouth to say the words, but what came out was, "Do you remember Jeremy Taylor?"

Drew blinked at the apparent non sequitur. "From high school? The guy who asked you to prom before I could?"

"He moved to Chicago junior year. Remember how devastated I was? I thought my world was ending because my crush was moving away." She picked up the stress ball, squeezing it rhythmically. "Funny how perspective changes things."

"Casey..." His voice softened. "What's really going on?"

Tell him, her mind screamed. Tell him now before you lose your nerve.

Instead, she set the stress ball down with exaggerated care. "Nothing. I just... I wanted to make sure we were okay. After... you know."

"The Swimming Hole?"

Heat crept up her neck. "Yeah. That."

He studied her for a long moment, and she fought the urge to fidget under that green gaze. "We're okay," he said finally. "It was..."

"Closure," she finished when he hesitated. The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

"Right. Closure." He straightened, professional mask sliding back into place. "Was there anything else?"

I'm pregnant. I'm terrified. I don't know how to do this without you but I don't know how to do it with you either.

"No," she said. "That's all."

She made it to her car before the tears started, hot and angry and helpless. Through the blurry windshield, she saw Drew standing at his office window, watching. For a moment, she thought he might come after her. Hoped he would.

He didn't.

Her phone buzzed: a text from her mother. Dinner tonight? Made your favorite pot roast.

Then another: Helen Thompson called. Says Drew's got some big news. You knew about Chicago, right?

And another: Honey?

Casey turned off her phone and pulled out of the parking lot. The "Welcome to Pine Grove" sign flashed past as she drove, not sure where she was going until she found herself at The Swimming Hole. Their spot. The scene of so many beginnings and endings.

The late morning sun sparkled on the water, painfully bright. A cardinal—maybe one of their pair—swooped across her line of sight, a flash of red against the blue sky.

She pressed her hand to her still-flat stomach, feeling the weight of secrets and choices and all the words she couldn't say.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered to the empty air. To the baby. To herself. "I don't know how to tell him he's leaving more than just me behind."

The cardinal's mate appeared, joining it on a nearby branch. Together, they watched her cry in her car, witnesses to one more moment in the long story of Casey and Drew.

She had to tell him. She would tell him. Just... not today. Not while Chicago hung in the air between them like another goodbye.

Her phone sat dark and silent in her purse, collecting worried messages from her mother, probably more town gossip from well-meaning friends who'd seen her at Drew's office. Tomorrow, she'd deal with all of it.

Today, she just needed to breathe. To think. To figure out how to be brave enough for what came next.

The cardinals took flight together, disappearing into the trees. Casey watched them go, one hand still pressed to her stomach, wondering if anything ever really ended in a town with this many beginnings.

"One day at a time," she told her flat stomach, her silent phone, the empty air. "We'll figure it out one day at a time."

The creek rushed on, unconcerned with her drama. Life moved forward, ready or not. Choices had consequences, planned or not.

And sometimes, she was starting to realize, endings were just beginnings in disguise.

She just wished this particular beginning didn't feel so much like drowning.