thought you’d dance at this suggestion,” Cole says. “The girls are all right?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. “Man, it’s such a fucking clusterfuck of things. I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning,” Nick says.
But that’s impossible.
The girl next door tricked me into becoming a father again. She actually lied to me about who she was the entire time, too. Fun, right?
There’s no way I can pour out all of my embarrassment on a silver platter and share it with them, not while it still feels like it might choke me.
“It’s Bella,” I say simply. “She wasn’t who I thought she was.”
“Ah.” Cole’s voice is delicate. “Should have recognized the look on your face right away.”
“You wore it yourself long enough,” Nick tells him.
Cole holds up a hand. “You wore it the longest out of all of us. Just because I couldn’t recognize it at the time doesn’t make it less of a fact.”
Nick ignores his future brother-in-law and turns to me. “Not who you thought she was? That girl was as transparent as glass, man.”
“And she clearly liked you,” Cole says. “Sweet, too.”
“Have you tried saying you’re sorry?” Nick asks. “Hurts like a motherfucker to admit, but it does the trick every time, even when you’re not.”
“Didn’t need to hear the last part,” Cole remarks.
I grit my teeth at their well-meaning advice. “There’s no solution to this. She’s a bit of a manipulator.”
“Bella?” Cole asks. “We’re talking about the same girl who blushed when we joked about how you were both single?”
I reach for the computer on the table. “Don’t we have an investment company to create?”
They exchange a glance, and the conversation about my morose state is thankfully left behind. Not forgotten, though. No doubt they’ll ask again, and again, and again, until I’ll finally be forced to relive the entire humiliating ordeal.
Transparent as glass.
I’d thought so too, once, watching her cheeks flush beautifully.
Turns out she lied with her body too.
22
Bella
I pace back and forth in my new living room. It’s a fairly simple thing to do, considering it’s the size of a shoebox and still unfurnished. Get a couch is currently number seven on my list of tasks, right under things like research pre-natal vitamins and tell my friends and family I’m pregnant, but above such trivial things like buying renter’s insurance.
Ethan is going to hate it. The surefire knowledge only adds to my pace as I try to wear down a path on the linoleum floor. He’d texted that he specifically wanted to see where I’m living, and I didn’t see the point in denying him that. His kid would live here too.
The apartment might be tiny, but it’s still a godsend. I’d contacted the landlord seven minutes after the post appeared online, and Trina and I had been there bright and early the next morning.
She’d rolled her eyes when I’d told her it had charm. I think you need to look up the dictionary definition of that word, she’d said.
But I can see potential in these walls, in the corridor-like kitchen and the bedroom that’s just big enough to fit both a bed and a crib. It’s just under my budget, which is good, because I’ll need every penny I can when the baby gets here.
“Our baby,” I tell my stomach. It’s still mostly flat, but when I press my fingers against it, it feels harder—almost like I’ve grown abs. “Your father is going to love you,” I say, “even if he’ll never love me. No worries on that score, though. Won’t ever hold it against you.”
It’ll take years until my baby will be able to reply, but the conversation still feels reassuring—like we’re in this together.
I look at my phone to check the time. He’s late. He’s never late. A loop back down to the mirror, yes, my hair still looks good, I return to the living room to pace. It’s not a particularly good way to pass the time, but the knot of nerves in my stomach won’t let me relax.
The doorbell rings and I open my front door with the greatest pretense of calm I’ve ever managed to pull off.
Ethan’s green eyes meet mine. “Hey,” he says.
“Hi.” I take a step to the side. “Come on in.”
He steps past me into the apartment. The scent of him hits me, familiar shampoo and sweater and man. I knot my hands together in front of me.