“And you didn’t say anything.”
“Why would I say something if I wasn’t sure?” I ask, my voice raising with each word. “There’s no reason to freak us both out if I’m not sure. So, I tested. And then you insisted I go to the doctor, and I did. And they confirmed it when they did blood and urine tests.”
“And you kept it from me,” he nods, sucking his teeth and starts to walk away.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to take a shower,” Callum says. “I need a minute to think.” He walks to the stairs, and I follow him.
“Hang on a second. You can’t just blow up at me and walk away. I was going to tell you.”
Callum reaches the top of the stairs and spins around. “Oh, were you? When?”
“Now,” I say, and he rolls his eyes mockingly with a smirk and a head nod.
“Sure. The same way you were going to tell me that you are seeing other men?”
With that, I go cold. I stop halfway up the stairs. “What are you talking about?”
“The dating app? Your profile is active, Amanda. You are searchable on a public fucking dating app. Do you have any idea how that looks?!”
“I never made a profile on a dating app! Not now or ever.”
I think about it and then it hits me. Kate. Fucking hell. “It was my sister. She made the profile before she knew about us.”
“It’s still active.”
“So, I’ll get rid of it. Or make her get rid of it. Whatever.”
But Callum isn’t satisfied. He keeps walking and I continue to follow him.
“It doesn’t matter now. The damage is already done. Anyone who has been looking into us can see it. Along with the photos of you buying the tests.”
My heart drops into my stomach. “People took photos of me at CVS?”
“You’re in the music industry, sweetheart,” he says but the word is anything but sweet as he spits it out of his mouth. “Not to mention, you’re associated with Hardin now. Associated withme. And that means that people are going to be taking photos of you everywhere you go. Even if you are laying low. Even if you are wearing a hoodie and sunglasses.”
My chest rises and falls as I think about his words. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“You wanted to be a famous songwriter,” he says, tearing at his tie and pulling it off before tossing it on the bed.
“I never wanted to be famous. I just wanted to make a living. To write for the best. To stop working in coffee shops and relying on freelance platforms and make my name real.”
“Yeah well, that’s not really the world we live in. The world we live in watches everything we do and scrapes around our windows and breaks down our doors until they find something about us that will sell stories. And you being pregnant is a story.”
I think about that for a moment and the tears surface in my eyes. Just an hour ago I was hearing for certain that I was pregnant. That I am pregnant. Before the words had even solidified in my mind, they materialized on a black and white screen in the form of a little beating heart. And then, I heard that beating heart. Loud and clear and very, very real.
The entire drive home, I sat in silence trying to wrap my brain around the idea of that beating heart. And for all of two seconds, I felt something other than disbelief and fear.
I felt joy.
I felt love.
And now? Seeing his reaction, it’s hard to feel anything but anger and hurt and resentment.
“Is it mine?” he asks.
My mouth pops open. “What do you mean is it yours?”
