About an hour later, I ended my call with Val.

We both had work the next day and, in our old age, needed the full eight hours of sleep to function like proper adults. Val hadn't been able to help me reach any concrete conclusions. I still didn't know what to do about Lydia or her baby, but our conversation left me with a lot to ponder.

Val advised me to try to think as objectively as possible. Remove emotion from the equation so I could move forward with a clear-headed decision.

For the next few days, I worked on pushing aside my hang ups about Lydia and Gray. Maybe Val was right. My anguish was clouding my vision and doing absolutely nothing for me—except hurt me. Maybe it was time to let go. Maybe it was time to move on.

If I ignored the issues of morality and loyalty altogether—on paper, I didn't have a right to be angry with Lydia or Gray. I wasn't Gray's girlfriend or his wife. My sister and my ex-best friend were both consenting adults. Not to mention, Gray and I weren't even on speaking terms anymore. Not since—

Nevermind. I needed to focus on the present.

By the end of the week, the churning, nauseating feelings inside me began to fade. I suddenly realized that, in an unexpected and slightly perverse sense, I was kind of happy that Lydia decided to keep the baby.

I swear, I wasn't high on drugs or alcohol. I had my reasons.

Three pretty good ones, in fact...

Reason Number One: It was highly unlikely for me to ever have kids of my own.

My infertility had been the justification that Craig, my ex, used to break off our engagement. He wanted a family that I wouldn't be able to give him. After Craig left me, my world crumbled a little. At the time, I cried for weeks. I thought that I had been crying over Craig.

Turned out, it actually didn't have much to do with him at all.

As always, Val had been the one who helped me unveil the truth of the matter.

Turned out, I fell in love with the idea of marriage and starting a family with Craig—more than I actually loved the man, Craig.

I had been mourning the loss of my lifelong dream.

"You're the one who always wanted to settle down, get married, and have kids, right? We could parent this baby together, Gracie. You and me."

In this way, Lydia knew me better than I knew myself. I suspected that she might have chosen those words on purpose. She knew they would get under my skin.

Reason Number Two: I was turning thirty this year.

I was single with no steady prospects other than a bunch of twenty-something fuckboys, thirty-something fuckboys, and forty-something divorcees that I sometimes matched with on Tinder.

I didn't want to die alone.

I didn't want to be childless.

I wished that I could magically become one of those fiercely independent women who knew how to be happy by themselves.

But I didn't know how to change my core.

I yearned for the deep, lasting love that my parents had found with one another. To me, the way my dad and mom still looked at each other, even in their sixties, was awe-inspiring and so, so lovely.

Reason Number Three: If I wasn't going to be settling down, getting married, or having kids any time soon with my soulmate, then I supposed...

The next best thing was to become an auntie?

I mean, in many parts of the world, it was actually quite common for family members to pitch in and help raise a child.

Hell, my own mom was raised by her grandmother while her mom continued to work...

I wondered if I was going crazy like Lydia. Yet, my mind didn't feel crazy. It felt... calm.

Lucid.

At peace.

Lydia claimed that she wouldn't have time to be a mom. Gray wasn't even going to be in the picture.

A part of me was beginning to worry that their baby might not have someone who could give it the proper love and care and attention a child deserved.

Gray hadn't wanted my love.

But his baby needed it.