I rap my knuckles against the glass, smiling at her. She shoots upright, clutching her chest as she stares at me through the window. Her face is lined with tears.
Warmth saps from my body, sinking somewhere into the ground as I watch her spin around and disappear. What the hell happened?
I can half-hazard a guess with that asshole still in town. The door shakes as I knock it. “Olivia, what’s wrong?”
She doesn’t respond, but I hear the faint sounds of sobbing, and a knife hits my heart.
Fuck this.
I open it, and thank God it’s unlocked or I might’ve bashed it down. The light from the bathroom spills onto the wooden floors.
“Go away!”
Whoa. “Babe, talk to me. Don’t just tell me to go away, that’s not going to work.”
She explodes with fury. “You’re not my boyfriend.”
I roll my eyes. “No, I’m your husband. Remember that little piece of paper we signed? In some places, that actually means something.”
My foot connects with a plastic thing on the floor, and I watch as the cylinder spins in circles. It looks vaguely familiar.
“Please, leave me alone.”
“Why should I?"
"Because I'm asking you to!"
Olivia slides out of the bathroom, her hair in tangles around her face, which is tomato-red with fury. She opens her mouth to say something, and then suddenly she dissolves into tears. The mask of rage collapses as she takes in a shaking breath.
My chest feels like it’s caving in.
“I’m going to kill that piece of shit.”
“It’s not him,” she moans.
Did she get fired?
She pulls away from me, and I yank her back into my chest, her small body folding into mine. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine.”
Then she glares at me, tears still streaming down her face. Olivia rips out of my grasp, stalking into the bathroom, where she points at three lined up plastic things. All of them with a single pink line. A horrifying, swooping sensation hits my guts as though I’ve missed a step on a flight of stairs.
Oh God.
“I’m pregnant!”
It repeats in my head as though I’ve forgotten the meaning of the word. Olivia outstretched arm shakes, agony etched on every line of her face.
“I—I knocked you up?”
She flinches at the word, but nods.
Holy fuck.
The world seems to tilt on its edge. I grab the sink for support as those three pregnancy tests bleed into my vision. I look into the mirror, forcing myself to stay fucking calm. She’s the one who should be losing her shit. She’s the one carrying my baby. Am I ready to be a father? The color drains from my face.
“Are you sure? I mean can you—are you absolutely sure you’re pregnant?”
“There are four positive tests.”
I look around. “Where’s the other one?”
“I think you stepped on it in the living room. I was looking at it when you showed up.” Olivia hugs her middle, fixing me with a beady glare. “I’m keeping it. So that’s what’s happening.”
She flinches when I take her shoulders. “How sure are you it’s mine?”
Her eyes slowly fill with tears, the strength dissolving from firm expression. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I—I’m pretty sure.”
I’m going to be a father.
Tightness constricts my lungs, but I pull her into my arms. She crushes my chest with the force of her grip, but I don’t let her go. I feel better the longer she holds me.
“What are we going to do?”
I don’t know. “I have no fucking idea.”
“Oh God! Mark.” She looks up suddenly, her face livid with fear. “He’ll find out. What if he thinks it’s his?”
What if the baby is his?
The unspoken question hangs between us. “We’ll figure it out,” I manage to grunt.
“You don’t understand. The Cranburys have people in every aspect of society. If there’s even a chance the baby is theirs, they’ll take it away from me.”
Her red-rimmed eyes bore into mine, electric with fear.
“Olivia, they can’t do that.”
“Yes, they can. They’ve got money.”
“So? Last I checked you couldn’t force a woman to give up her child.”
“You’ve never met his family. His mom is a piece of work. If she catches one whiff about this, she’ll make my life a living hell until I give up custody. Or she’ll just set her lawyers on me and assassinate my character in court.” Her eyes widen suddenly. “Jesus, they’re friendly with the chief of police. They donate tens of thousands to his campaign every year. All Mark would have to do is submit evidence that I’ve neglected the child!”