going to cost you—a lot of money and a lot of hours. By the time you get a result, the child could be a couple of years old. It could be difficult to form a bond with her.”
Panic fluttered in my chest and tears pooled in my eyes. We were so close to having a child, a little girl who was biologically Brian’s baby. And the opportunity was being ripped away from us. Pressing my lips together to quell my emotions, I stood. “Thanks,” I managed to mumble, “We’ll discuss it.” And then I bolted for the door.
• • •
Brian joined me outside minutes later, where I stood blowing my nose and swiping at my tears.
“You okay?” he asked, rubbing my back.
“We can’t lose this baby because we don’t have enough money to fight for her,” I said. “Nothing is more important than Maggie.
My husband ran his hands through his cropped hair. “I could ask my brother for a loan. . . .” Brian’s brother was a tech multimillionaire in Silicon Valley. He was also an arrogant douche.
“How would you explain it?” I asked. “I got my wife’s best friend pregnant while I was high on ’shrooms, and now we want access to the baby.”
Brian did not laugh. “I’ll make something up.”
“How will you write your next book? How will I run the store? Even if we prove the baby is”—I stopped myself from saying ours—“yours, we might need a second trial to get custody or even visitation.” I stuffed the snotty tissue into my pocket. “We need to work this out with Freya and Max. We can do the curiosity test. Once we prove, beyond a doubt, that you’re the father—”
My husband cut me off. “They know I’m the father, Jamie. Max is sterile. He can’t have children. We’re not dealing with reasonable people here.”
I swallowed hard. A plan was formulating in my mind, a sneaky plan that could blow up in my face. I could share it with Brian and risk him talking me out of it. Or I could add it to the secrets and subterfuge that had nearly destroyed us. Brian made the decision for me.
“How would we get the baby’s DNA? If we try to get near her, they’ll use it against us.” He sighed then, his eyes staring out at the quaint main street, deserted, as usual. “She’s a horrible human being.” He was talking about Freya; I didn’t need clarification. “I wish we’d never met her.” Then he stalked off toward his truck.
Part of me agreed with him. Part of me wished Freya hadn’t walked into my shop that day, that I hadn’t suggested coffee, that I hadn’t fallen under her spell. I wished we’d never gone to their waterfront home that night, that we hadn’t drank the mushroom tea, that we had never swapped partners. But part of me was grateful that we had. Because now we had a chance—no matter how tenuous, no matter how slim—to become parents.
And I still believed in Freya then. I still thought that we could make her see sense, that we would be able to work this out with mutual respect and understanding. Freya may have been selfish and shallow, but deep down, she had a good heart. And she would do what was best for her child. That’s what I thought then.
I was so naive.
57
low
Freya and the baby came home from the hospital after six days. The baby was healthy—happy and thriving—but the same could not be said for her mother. Freya had been kept in for a few extra days due to a minor infection. When she returned home, she was exhausted and glum. She was struggling to breastfeed and resented the enthusiastic lecture about its benefits that the nurses had given her prior to release.
“Fucking nosy do-gooders,” she snarled, as I bounced the hungry baby and Max prepared a bottle of formula.
“My mom breastfed all her kids for way too long,” I quipped. “She used to meet Leonard at recess for a quick top up.”
“I bet her tits are down to her knees,” Freya muttered.
Max or I did most of the feedings. Even though she wouldn’t breastfeed, the nurses had wanted Freya to bottle-feed her child, said it was important for bonding. But she wasn’t interested. Besides, she was usually asleep. She had been through physical turmoil, was recovering from surgery. But when her napping continued into the second week, it seemed a sign of avoidance and apathy. Freya had once mentioned her