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The hot water beats down on my skin, but it can't wash away the memories. I remember the last time he and I showered together, how his touch had sent shivers down my spine. Now, pain fills me instead.
I'm not fine. Not even close. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling lost and alone.
How quickly everything had changed. I’d been so happy, so excited yesterday. I’d been full of hope. Now, I feel nothing but fear and pain.
I turn off the water and step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel.
There’s another knock at the door. “Come in,” I whisper.
Emma opens the door and slips in. “Feel better?” she asks, and I nod.
“Did you figure out what you’re going to do? What about Fredrick?" she asks, her eyes locked on me.
I feel a pang in my chest. “I don't know,” I say again.
She looks at the floor, then back at me. “Have you considered that maybe he didn't tell you about finding me because he was trying to protect me?”
“Protect you from what?”I ask, my frustration rising. She’s not making any sense.
“Maybe he didn't want to get your hopes up that I’d come home.” Her voice is so small I glance up at her, but she’s looking anywhere else.
I chew on my bottom lip. “You told him you weren’t going to come home, didn’t you?” I ask.
She nods. But this explanation doesn't excuse anything he did. All it does is make me more upset at her.
“I just need some time to think,” I say, wrapping the towel tighter around me.
“Of course,” she says, giving me a small smile. “I’ll get out of your way.”
I sit, feeling like my whole world is falling apart. I’m pregnant. I told the father of my baby that it was over and to leave. I’m all alone, and I just don’t know what to do. What’s the right decision to make? Heck, what are my options?
I can't shake the feeling of being completely lost. What am I going to do? How am I supposed to move forward from here? And what about this baby growing inside of me?
What would Fredrick do or think if he found out I’m pregnant? In my mind’s eye, I imagine him lighting up with joy. But the more cynical side of me says he’d never accept the responsibility of being a good man, and by extension, he couldn't be a good father.
And after his upbringing, the things he thinks are okay are terrifying when I think about him having a child of his own.
There are no easy answers, and I set all of my brain power to figuring out the best way to handle everything. No matter what I do, there will be pain and the sneaking doubt that I’m making the wrong choice.
But whatever I do, I have to make sure I can live with the consequences.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fredrick
At first, I don’t know why I came here.
And as Margret and I sit opposite in dad’s... erm, the man who raised me, office - a room I was never allowed in - I don’t know what to say.
The heavy, floor-to-ceiling drapes are pulled away from the tall, glass windows, letting light filter in and rays of sunlight leave dust sparkling in the air. A clock ticks, the sound so oddly loud in the silence that I’m almost annoyed.
I’d asked her if I could come by, but now I’m here and every plan I had has vaporized in my mind.
“I'm sorry.” The words burst out of me, rough in my throat, heavy with the weight of Lila’s haunting words. She spent her whole life trying to make this right with a man who never appreciated her and never cared for her, and he knew that she could never be good enough to fix things. Then he took out that anger on you and her instead of just getting some fucking therapy.
She was right, of course. Lila was always right. And I didn’t think that in the annoying, eye-rolling way most men use when they say their wives are always right. She’s incredibly intelligent, and I’m punching way above my weight by being with her.
Margret’s green eyes meet mine, her silvery hair shimmering in the light. “Don't you dare apologize,” she says, her voice edged with steel. “I'm the one who made this mess.”
