The Swap - Robyn Harding Page 0,40

I said, through a twinge of discomfort. Freya wanting to share her baby news with her legions of fans was not all that unusual, but she’d told me many times how toxic and ugly social media was. Her followers had turned on her in the face of Max’s trial, spewing vitriol and hatred. Freya had lashed back at them, and she’d received death threats, they’d had to hire security. Max’s lawyer had instructed her to deactivate her account to avoid inflaming tensions. Now, she was sharing her most special, most intimate moment with all those strangers . . . but not with me.

“There’s been so much pain and ugliness,” Freya said, and she looked beatific, almost angelic. “And now, we can focus on a beautiful future as parents.”

“It’s wonderful news,” I said, drawing her into a hug.

It was wonderful news, I told myself. Even if it wasn’t my wonderful news.

27

After my meeting with Freya, I picked up some groceries for dinner and a couple of bottles of wine and drove home. I expected to find my husband writing—Brian’s deadline was fast approaching—but his laptop was hibernating, and his chaotic mess of an office was empty. When he still wasn’t home after I put the food and wine in the fridge, I texted him.

Where are you?

As soon as I hit send, I heard the rumble of feet on the front steps. Brian staggered in wearing running tights and a fleece jacket. He was sweaty and panting.

“Hey, I just texted you,” I said.

“You’re home early.” He kicked off his sneakers and paced in a slow circle. “I went for a run.”

“You’ve been running a lot lately.”

“It’s great for stress.” Then he suddenly dropped to the floor and assumed plank position.

My husband had been blessed with a quick metabolism and a natural wiriness. Over the course of our years together, he’d worked out sporadically, usually staying fit with games of pickup basketball or bike rides with his buddies. As I watched him on the floor strengthening his core, I realized how isolated Brian had become. He’d left his sporty pals behind. On the island, he had no friends but Max, a professional athlete who worked out like a warrior. And they hadn’t seen each other in months.

“I left work early to see Freya,” I said, to the back of his head. “She had some news.”

“What was it?” he asked, through gritted teeth.

“She’s pregnant.”

Brian’s held his position for a few more seconds, then lowered his knees. “Really?”

“I was surprised, too. And so was she. She didn’t think they could conceive, but it just happened.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, absorbing the news. Then he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I felt jealous at first, but I’m happy for her. I think she really wants this baby.”

My husband gave me a sympathetic smile and squeezed my arm. “I need water,” he said, and moved to the kitchen.

“She’d always told me she didn’t want kids,” I said, trailing after him. “She sounded like she kind of hated them. But it’ll be different with her own.”

Brian filled a glass with water. “And Max?”

My one-time lover’s name on my husband’s lips elevated my pulse, but I affected a casual tone. “I haven’t seen him, but Freya said he’s happy. He was surprised, but they both feel like this is a new beginning for them. They’ve been through a lot of ugliness. A baby will bring so much joy.”

Brian drained the glass and set it down. “It’s hard to envision them as parents.”

“I thought so, too, until I saw how excited Freya is.”

“A baby will change their lifestyle. No more magic-mushroom parties, for one.”

“Definitely not.” I laughed awkwardly.

We had never talked about that night. My one attempt at a confession had been subverted, and I could see no reason to bring my dalliance with Max into the light now. So I changed the subject.

“Freya’s feeling pretty overwhelmed. But I said I’d help her and support her.”

“You’re a good friend to her.”

“We can have a role in this baby’s life, Brian. We can be its auntie and uncle.”

My husband almost smiled, but not quite. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“I’ll start dinner.”

As he walked to the bathroom, I saw the tension in his posture. This was hard news for him to hear, too. He’d wanted a baby as much as I had, and our best friends—our only friends—on the island were expecting. But he would come around eventually. My acceptance had been expedited by a