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It takes a few days for me to adjust to my new life as Bridget’s assistant. It’s miles easier than working as a maid, though it’s difficult in its own way. Bridget is exacting, demanding perfection, but patient as I learn the ropes.
“That one,” she says, pointing to the left swatch of fabric I’m holding as she tries to decide between the two. “What do you think?”
I look down at it, taking in the color and texture. “It’s kind of… okay,” I say, not sure what she wants to hear.
“You’re right,” she agrees. “It’s hideous. How about this one?” She holds up another swatch, and my eyes light up. It’s so pretty, soft blue with a velvet texture. I want to touch it.
“You’re right, this is much better,” she agrees. I don’t know how she’s so perceptive, but she knows exactly what people are thinking just by looking at them.
“So, is one of my nephews your baby’s father?” she asks, sitting back in her chair.
“No,” I start, but she raises an eyebrow.
“Cut the bullshit, Eva. I’m not as dumb as I look.”
“It’s… complicated,” I offer.
“Try again,” she says, tilting her head.
“It… happened when we were all out on a night out. This was before I started working there,” I tell her slowly. “They don’t remember it. I didn’t want them to think I was a gold-digger.”
“You need to tell them,” Bridget says, leveling me with her gaze. “They deserve to know. You deserve child support at the very least.”
“I can’t,” I tell her, panic rising inside me. “If I tell them… it’ll ruin everything between us. I’m not ready.”
“Eva,” Bridget says, pinching the bridge of her nose with one manicured hand. “You foolish girl. You’re only hurting yourself by staying silent here.”
“I’ll… I’ll tell them. At some point,” I promise.
“You need to tell them, or I will,” Bridget says, voice firm. “Tell my nephews the truth, Evangeline.”
Someone clears their throat, and we both turn, startled by whoever has just shown up without announcing themselves.
“Evangeline…” Theo says, standing there with wide eyes. “Tell us what?”
I step back, heart in my throat.
“Bridget, what does Eva need to tell us?” he asks again, a frown on his face, arms crossed. I gulp, looking down at my shoes.
23
THEO
Istand outside my aunt’s office, the polished wooden door gleaming under the fluorescent lights. It’s silent up here at the top of the building, but I can see the bustling city below.
Bridget has been here a month now and has made so many changes. Losing Eva to her was a blow, but I can see why she did it. It wasn’t right that we were sneaking around with her while still expecting her to clean up after us.
As I reach for the doorknob, whispers filter through the wood, Bridget's voice carrying a weight of urgency that sends a shiver down my spine. "You need to tell them or I will!"
With a quick intake of breath, I push open the door and step inside, my gaze sweeping over the figures seated within. Bridget's eyes meet mine, her expression a mix of determination and concern. Beside her, Evangeline stands with eyes downcast, her discomfort palpable.
Questions flood my mind as I confront the scene before me. With Bridget's words hanging in the air, I know that whatever secret they're keeping threatens to upend everything we know.
I meet Evangeline’s eyes, though she can’t bring herself to look at me. “Evangeline?” I ask. “Tell us what?” I demand, my voice cutting through the tension.
When she doesn’t answer, I turn my gaze to my aunt. “Bridget, what does Eva need to tell us?”
Bridget stays silent and crosses her arms, clearing her throat pointedly.
