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Maybe he knows.
For a moment, that thought leaves me frozen, caught between the fear of if I’m right, what's to come, and the relief of possibly not carrying this secret alone. I tap out a reply with shaking fingers, having to backspace several times as my fingers fumble for letters and my brain fumbles for words.
Okay.
I have no idea what else to say.
I’ll be there in ten.
Okay.
With my pulse thundering painfully, I prepare for our meeting in a daze, my thoughts racing faster than my hands can move. Each article of clothing feels like a layer of protection against the unknown reactions that await me. What if he’s mad? What if he hates me? What if he tells me to get rid of it?
That last thought stops me in place and tears sting in my eyes as my hand finds the invisible lump between my hips.
The phone vibrates again, jolting me out of my pain. It's his mother.
I answer the call, my voice breaking painfully in my throat. “Hello?”
Her voice is warm, a stark contrast to the cold sweat beading across my brow. “Lila, I just wanted to thank you,” she says, her gratitude shining in her voice even over the phone. “Fredrick and I... things are better now. You helped mend fences I thought were beyond repair.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion. “I'm glad I could help,” I manage to say, though my voice is barely a whisper.
“See you soon, dear,” she says before the line goes dead, leaving me alone with my rising nausea and the weight of what comes next.
I’m lost in thoughts and what ifs when a knock shatters the quiet. I can barely breathe as fear grips me, icy tendrils coiling around my spine and threading through my belly. But I can't ignore it. Not when I know it's him.
I walk toward the door with sure, measured steps, but my hand trembles as I reach for the knob. Steeling myself, I pull it open.
“Fredrick.”
His eyes, those reddish-brown pools that seem to see right through me, light up with a spark of something I can’t quite place. I should be happy seeing his obvious delight at seeing me. Instead, it twists in my gut, a cruel reminder of... well... everything.
“Hey,” he says, his voice a low rumble that used to make me quake in a different way. Now, it's just... sad.
“Hi.” My reply is flat and sounds dead even to my own ears.
He doesn't seem to notice. Or maybe he does, but chooses to ignore it, because what’s the point of calling me out and possibly starting an unpleasant conversation?
“I wasn't sure you'd open the door,” he says with a grin. But the smile doesn't reach his eyes; no, they’re filled with something like concern—or maybe regret.
“Me neither.” The honest words slip out of me, disguised as humor.
His eyes narrow ever so slightly, as if he’s aware of the truth. But Fredrick moves past it, past the threshold of the door, and into my space. He's close now, so close I can smell the faint scent of cologne and his unique fragrance that clings to him. A scent that once filled my every breath in the best possible way.
“Let's go for a ride,” he says, as if us going somewhere together is the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was, once, but that time has passed. Now it feels like a cruel joke, or a hollow attempt to recapture some long-gone magic.
“Where?” I ask, even though it doesn't matter.
“I have an idea,” he says. A flicker of the old Fredrick shines through, the one who does what he wants, when he wants. That's the problem, isn't it? He always gets what he wants, except... not this time. So why doesn't that victory make me happy?
Without clarifying further, he takes my hand. His grip is firm, fingers laced with mine as he leads me away from the safety of my home and along the walk toward the driveway. Each step leaves me feeling a bit more panicked. What if I tell him the truth and wind up on an episode of Dateline as “body found in the woods” or something?
We reach his car, and he opens the door for me, a gentleman's gesture from a man we both know is no gentleman.
I slide into the passenger seat, the soft leather enveloping me, both comforting and scary all at once. He closes the door with a thud, sealing me inside his world.
What will he say when I tell him the truth?
