Chapter Text
I pull the oversize sweater over my head, tugging the hem down past the waist of my leggings. I usually wear jeans, but not today.
In the kitchen, Luke's cooking eggs on the stove. Mom is getting something out of the fridge and setting it on the island. Orange juice, it looks like.
Luke is the first one to see me. "Good morning, Clary."
"Morning," I reply, getting a box of cereal out of the pantry.
Mom frowns. "Can't you wait for the eggs to be done? I'm making toast, too."
"Isabelle's picking me up to go shopping in fifteen minutes. You don't remember? I asked you last week. You said it was okay..."
"Oh." She pauses, her gaze drifting off as she sifts through her brain. She must catch the right memory, because her eyes refocus on me. "I remember now. That's fine..." She purses her lips, looking down and smoothing her apron. "Is Jace going?"
I snort. "Jace? Shopping?"
She smiles ever so slightly. "Okay, it's a little out of his element, but since you're going, I thought he might want to."
"No. It's just me and Isabelle." I take a bowl out of the pantry and pour the Froot Loops into it, then milk.
Luke clicks his tongue. "Savage." He's grinning.
"What?" I ask, the spoon halfway to my mouth.
"Everybody knows you put the milk in first, then the cereal. Only savages do it the other way around."
I huff a laugh. "Come on, Luke." Turning to Mom, who's also cracked a broad grin, I ask, "Which way do you do it?"
Eyes darting between her husband and her daughter, debating where her allegiance lies for a moment, she finally relents. "Cereal first."
Luke gasps, pretending to be offended but with sparks of joy in his eyes. "Traitor!"
"Hey, it's my nature," Mom protests, going in for a kiss. "You can't break that kind of habit."
After they smooch for several seconds, I clear my throat. "Guys, your eggs are going to burn."
"She's right," Mom murmurs, still not pulling away from him.
Luke is the one to finally break the spell. "I have to use the bathroom. Will you take the eggs off the stove, Jocelyn?" He walks down the hall towards their bedroom, which has a bathroom built in.
I shovel the cereal into my mouth, but I don't realize I've been staring at Mom until she fully turns around to face me.
"What's that look about?"
I hesitate. "It's just... you— you never look at anyone quite the way you look at Luke. It's... strange." And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm slightly jealous.
She raises an eyebrow at me. "That's rich, coming from you. I'm not sure you've ever truly noticed the way you look at Jace— really, I should take a picture sometime— but I'm positive it's much more intense than Luke and I."
I shrug. "That's fair. Sorry."
"I'm not mad, Clary. But sometimes I worry about just how intense you two are—"
"I know, Mom. You've told me before."
She presses her lips together, folding her hands in front of her. "That's right. I'm sorry. I just— I always hoped you wouldn't get swept up in this world, and now it's become such a big part of you."
I smile sadly. She says things like this all the time, and as much as I know it's true, it's not her choice to make anymore, and honestly, it wasn't ever hers. "I know, Mom."
A familiar horn honks outside. "That's Isabelle." I stand up, ready to leave.
"Don't you walk out that door without putting your bowl in the dishwasher, Clary."
My back to her, I roll my eyes. Then I turn around and comply.
The horn honks twice more before I make it into the passenger seat of Isabelle's car, to my slight irritation. Izzy's always been heavy on the horn, especially when she's waiting for someone.
"Took you long enough," she grins. "Parents dragging you down?"
"Sort of."
"Well, we're going to have fun today," she announces, shifting the car into drive. She looks at my face. Izzy has a way of getting into my business just by looking at my face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Well, that's not true." She flicks some of her shiny black hair behind her shoulder and turns in her seat. "You know that I will get it out of you," She says matter-of-factly.
"I know," I smile, fixing my face. "It's an Isabelle Lightwood superpower."
"But you're not going to tell me yet?"
"No."
"Well, do us both a favor." She straightens in her seat and looks at me out of the corner of her eye. "Even if you're not going to tell me, don't say it's nothing. Then you're just lying to both of us."
"Okay."
She takes hold of the steering wheel, the Voyance rune on her right hand catching my eye as we drive off.
***
"This one... and this one."
I turn around to see what garments Isabelle picked out. The first thing she put in the cart is an unoffensive pink chenille crop sweater. It's cute; I'll buy it. The second... "By the Angel, Isabelle, no."
She has a decidedly wicked gleam in her eyes as she smirks. "By the Angel, Clary, yes."
"No. Way too red, way too short. Not my style."
She pouts for a minute. "Honestly, I knew you were going to say that. Let me go see if they have it in my size and I'll be right back."
I browse the racks, unintentionally combing my way towards the aisle until I'm left staring at the next section over: maternity clothing.
As if in a trance, I walk over. One of the mannequins is naked. She's obviously feminine, with breasts and an hourglass shape to her waist— made more subtle by the bulging form of her abdomen. I lightly trace my fingers over it and glance back at the women's section for Isabelle. Not seeing her, I continue deeper into the maternity section.
The clothes are all stretchy, for obvious reasons. They need to accommodate a growing child, still unborn, as well as the mother's body.
"Clary!" Isabelle calls. Her voice is nearer than I expected. Broken from the trance, I hurry in the direction it seemed to come from, but not before she sees me in the maternity section.
She raises her eyebrows but doesn't say anything about it. "I'm hungry," she announces instead. "How about a snack at the food court?"
"Yeah, sounds good," I agree, but without fervor.
She glances back at me, clearly concerned. We pay at the checkout, glamoured to hide our Marks.
"What do you want? Auntie Anne's? Cinnabon? We could just get Starbucks."
"No, you said you were hungry. Cinnabon sounds good."
We get a cinnamon roll for each of us and sit down at an isolated table. I have a feeling I'm about to get the third degree.
Sure enough, she pounces as soon as we're seated. "You've been acting really weird all day. Tell me what's going on. I want to help you, Clary."
I need help with this— I really do— and it would be really nice if I could start with Isabelle's.
I take a deep breath holding her gaze, and then decide that isn't enough. I reach my hand out across the table, palm up, and she takes it without hesitating. She puts her cinnamon roll down, sensing this is something really important.
I push all the breath out of my lungs. "I'm pregnant," I murmur.
Izzy doesn't seem especially surprised, although the maternity section incident was probably a giveaway. She squeezes my hand. "Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure."
"Well, have you taken a test?"
"No. I've only known for two weeks, and at first I couldn't find a time and place to take the test away from my mom and Luke. I didn't want to even bring it into the house. And then I was just scared. You know what they say about 'fight, flight, or freeze'? I froze."
"Oh, Clary." Isabelle squeezes my hand again, her eyes filled with empathy but not pity. "Two weeks?" Then a different question filled her eyes. "Does Jace know?"
I shake my head, the word refusing to come out of my throat. It feels like betraying him, lying to him every time I see him, and about such an important thing. But... "I couldn't... I couldn't bring myself to do it."
Izzy looks at me for a minute longer, seeming to make a decision. "Here's what we're going to do, okay? I'm going to take you to buy a test. If it comes back negative, we don't ever have to talk about this again if you don't want to."
"And if— if it's positive?"
She takes a deep breath, squeezing my hand a third time. The motion reassures me. "Then you need to tell Jace. Right away."