eyes fixed on Louisa where she stood, her knuckles white as she clutched her purse in front of her. Her eyes dropped to my mid-section, the line of her lips thin and stiff. When she looked back at my face, her eyes held accusation and anger.
“Louisa,” I began.
“I think it’s best if we speak inside, don’t you?” The chill in her voice left no room for argument.
I nodded and walked toward my front door, knowing she would follow. As I stood aside to let her in, I tried to smile in a welcoming, reassuring way, but she wouldn’t look at me. In fact, her expression turned to a glare as she faced my living room. I turned to see what she was looking at and found Sean facing away from us, a guitar in his lap, leaning forward to scribble on a notepad on the coffee table.
Not good, not good, not good.
He stopped writing. “I haven’t figured out dinner yet.” He glanced over his shoulder and then did a double take before standing up. “Libby—”
I cut him off. “Louisa, this is—”
“I don’t want an introduction,” she bit out.
Of course she didn’t. Time to explain, but first. “Sean, this is Jonas’s mom. I need you to go.”
His face went a couple shades paler as he stared at us. I gave him a pleading look and he pulled himself together. “Yeah, of course.” He grabbed his guitar and notepad and left through the back door.
“Louisa—”
She whirled on me. “It’s true!” she hissed in an angry whisper. “All of it’s true. Look at you, Libby!” She looked me over from head to toe in disgust. “Living with that musician, spitting on my son’s memory!”
“I’m not living with him. Our relationship isn’t like that.” I tried to speak firmly and without any hysterics. She had every right to be angry.
“I’m not blind, Libby.” She glared at my stomach.
My eyes stung and burned as the tears gathered. “The baby isn’t Sean’s. It’s Jonas’s,” I managed to get out before my throat choked with tears.
I dashed the tears away, trying to see Louisa’s face. It was twisted in anger and confusion and disbelief. “You expect me to believe that? When you have a man sitting in your living room, waiting for you to come home? He’s planning what to make for dinner, Libby!”
“He’s my friend!” I defended. “He’s taking care of me. That’s all. He doesn’t live here, he doesn’t sleep here. We’ve never had a romantic relationship.”
Her head shook back and forth in tiny little movements, no doubt trying to process my words.
I pulled out my phone, tapping quickly into my photos and scanning back five months to the day I’d taken the pregnancy test. I tapped on the photo I’d been looking for and handed her the phone, still swiping at my tears. It was a selfie of Jonas and me, sitting on our couch, the pregnancy test held up between us.
“It’s Jonas’s,” I reiterated as I tried to take in her reaction while being bombarded with all the conflicting emotions that came with the revelation. The joy, the grief, the guilt. I swallowed hard and forced the words out. “Jonas and I found out three weeks before he died. Three weeks. That’s all the joy we got to share before he died.”
She looked up from the phone, her face settling into an expression of stunned hurt. She blinked and opened her mouth a few times but couldn’t seem to get any words out.
“I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to share it.” I sniffed, swiping at my cheeks. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have found a time to tell you, but I’ve just been…” I held out my arms, looking around me, trying to find the right answers and the right reasons and the right excuses. “I’ve just been…” A sob built up in my chest and I pressed my lips together to keep it down. I shut my eyes and felt the tears roll down my face.
I heard her move closer before I felt her hands framing my face.
“I didn’t forget him.” I whispered as I opened my eyes. “I didn’t cheat on him. I didn’t move on.”
Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
I took a shuddering breath as the shame rose up. “It’s all I have left of him. You have your whole family, but my only family was Jonas.” I gasped a few breaths as more tears flowed. “And he’s