Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I would never forget that look. I clung to it for strength as Brooke came home saying she had a ‘little present’ for me.
God, if only she would stop being such a fucking wonderful person. If only she had been less of a good friend, maybe I’d feel better about this. But of course, we wouldn’t be friends if she was anything less than her darling self.
Brooke set a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter and pulled out a small onesie. “Ta da!” she said, showing it to me. “I saw it and I immediately thought of you.”
The onesie said watch the language asshole, I’m a baby.
I snorted with laughter. Oh my fucking God. That really was perfect for me and my foul mouth. “I love it,” I said, hugging her in thanks.
This was it. I knew it in my gut. She was being so kind, and I couldn’t keep lying to her any longer, and I knew that Michael certainly couldn’t, and we were already sort of talking about the baby…
“Brooke?” I said, pulling back.
“Yes?”
“The baby isn’t Cameron’s. It’s your father’s.”
The whole story spilled out. I just… blurted everything, like word vomit. I told her about how I had gotten a crush on her father while we were still in high school, and how after her mother had betrayed him I’d seen an opportunity and I’d decided that after culinary school I would come back and wow him, win him over. I explained how I’d never been with another man, and how I’d been foolish and hadn’t gotten on birth control or anything, and my, well, seducing him, basically, and how that was the reason I’d fled when I’d found out I was pregnant.
I told her all of it. And I watched as my best friend’s face went from relaxed and smiling to horrified. Her mouth fell open and her eyes were practically bugging out.
“How…but…how…” Brooke repeated, babbling for a moment. She seemed to be in total shock. She crossed to the living room area, sitting down heavily on the couch. Her knuckles were white where they gripped her knees.
“I’ll get you some water—” I started for the cupboard to grab a glass.
“Don’t,” Brooke said, and her voice was surprisingly sharp.
I paused. Well, froze was more like it.
“How could you lie to me?” Brooke whispered. She looked up at me, her face the picture of devastation.
I felt like absolute shit. Nothing about how I’d felt the last few months could compare to this: watching my best friend look at me like I’d stabbed her puppy.
“How could you lie to me? How could you keep something like this from me, and let me think…I mean it’s one thing for something to just happen, you know, but then you had months to tell me the truth, Stevie, months! This isn’t something that happened last week!” Brooke’s voice cracked but she held eye contact, two spots of color appearing high on her cheeks. “And how could you even think about my father like that!? My father! What the fuck! That is just so—that’s so wrong, I can’t even—”
“I never wanted to hurt you,” I told her, hearing how raw my own voice was. “This wasn’t just a fling or a random hook up to me. I care about Michael, I always have, and I want to be with him. This was always serious for me. I wanted to give him the love that he deserved, after what your mother did to him. And I didn’t want…I thought that you know, you would be happy about it, since I’d be officially a part of your family and…and it was all my fault, really, don’t blame him, I did this, it was all my fault. Okay? Blame me, if you’re going to blame someone.”
“Oh my God, just stop talking, please!” Brooke burst out, holding up a trembling hand. She took a few heaving breaths, then wiped at her eyes. “I don’t want to hear anymore. I need some time, okay?”
She got up on shaky legs, grabbing her purse again. “I’ll - I’ll just - ” She shook her head, then hurried out the door—slamming it behind her in anger.
I walked over to the couch on unsteady legs and sank down into it, my fingernails digging into the arm of it. I was shaking all over. I hadn’t felt this awful in… ever, really. I’d fucked it all up. This was—this was all on me. I had done this.
To my embarrassment, I started to cry. I grabbed the tissues from the coffee table and blew my nose, wiping at my eyes. I wanted to stop, to gather myself and figure out a way to make this better, to make it up to Brooke… but it was all just so overwhelming. I felt like total shit. How could I even possibly begin to fix this mess that I’d made?