“You have an active dating app profile. I’m 48. Let’s do the math here.”
My eyes fill with tears, but I am still able to glare through them. “How fucking dare, you.”
“How do I know the baby is mine? How do I know you haven’t known for a while and planted everything to make it look different? How do I know you didn’t plan the whole thing?”
“What whole thing?”
“For all I know, you saw me on that stage. You saw money. You waved your paddle, you played cute on the date, and you got what you wanted. For all I know, you knew who I was the entire time because look how that worked out for you. And the entire time, you were with someone else, falling in love, getting pregnant…”
“Are you accusing me of using you and cheating on you?” I spit out.
Callum shrugs.
I let out a laugh. “How in the hell could I cheat on you? We aren't really together.”
His brow lowers and his eyes narrow into slits. He shoves his hands in his pocket, turning something over in his hand and swallows. “We’re married.”
“Not on purpose.”
The words come out strangled and jagged, like barbed wire wrapped around my throat. They might be true. We never intended to be married. We were drunk. Yet I thought, I truly believed, there was more to it than that.
He made me believe there was more to it than that.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Without another word, I walk out of his room and head down the stairs. I leave my things, from my clothes to my makeup bag. The only thing I grab is my purse and my phone. And the sonogram photo. With my head high and my steps determined and my jaw tight and my eyes holding onto the tears, I get in my car and head back to my own apartment.
It isn’t until I am on the main road putting distance between us that I let the tear spill.
Because how dare he?
How fucking dare, he?
My phone buzzes with a text from Iris.
Iris: Did you tell him?
The sob escapes and the light turns green. I can’t talk about this right now. I can’t even process it right now. Because I don’t know what the fuck just happened.
Amanda: I did. I’ll call you about it later.
Iris responds but I don’t check the phone again. Instead, I turn on Carly Simon. She is my go-to when life feels untethered.My car fills with old timey music and her feathery voice and I just let myself drown in it while I drive. Because I don’t know what to do.
Everything I felt, everything I allowed myself to believe, has been ripped away from me. And as I pull up to my apartment, a world that feels like an empty yesterday, I don’t feel comfort. I don’t feel at home.
I feel alone.
Chapter 31
Amanda
My house smells stuffy.
I think that’s normal after not being here for a long time. It’s warm and airless and like all my belongings have gathered me-scented dust and I can’t decide if it’s comforting or depressing. It’s more like it feels odd. In a way I feel like I don’t belong here. And in another way, it's like I should have never left.
I drop my purse on the counter, something I never did at Callum’s. Unlike my place, his penthouse was immaculate. It’s not that I am messy. I’m not. But he has a hall closet for shoes and coats, umbrellas and hoodies. And that’s where I hung my purse.
I toss the keys in the bowl (not on a hook) and lock the door (though there’s no alarm system). Then I make my way to the fridge. I don’t know why. I cleaned it out before I moved in with him so there’s nothing in it but a water pitcher and a few condiments.
