“Have you told him?”
I almost dribbled a mouthful of fake margarita. “I just told you. No. We talk about the baby, his room, plans for the bakery, my two jobs. We go over my ideas for his social media accounts. Sometimes in a weak moment, I’ll talk about my father. Literally everything except us. He called me his pregnant girlfriend once, and that’s the only time he’s labeled me as anything.”
“I never knew you to be chicken,” Morgan said as she cleared off the table.
“I think you have.” My head bobbed in a slow nod. “Like that years-long quest to make Tyler despise me so he wouldn’t reject me?” I turned to Leah. “She acts like she hasn’t had a front seat to all my issues,” I told Leah in a loud whisper.
“Can we still have the cake you brought over from Tyler?” Leah chuckled as she looped her arm around Morgan’s shoulder.
“Of course.” I stood from the table, my belly now big enough for it to be awkward rising from a seated position. “I wouldn’t begrudge you dessert because of my screwed-up love life.”
After I helped them clean up, at least as much as they’d let me, Morgan put on a pot of decaf coffee as we cut into a chocolate layer cake, my second favorite dessert of his after the cream pie. Well third, as my all-time favorite was when Tyler mademehis dessert, but maybe that was part of our problem. The sex was so incredible, I was willing to overlook any connections that we maybe didn’t have. I felt love from Tyler when he was inside me and from all the sweet things he’d say and how he’d patiently listen when I’d open up about the grieving I couldn’t seem to stop.
But I needed to know for sure, even if I was afraid to ask.
“So I’m doing a story at work on dating apps,” Morgan said before moaning around a mouthful of cake.
“Told you,” I said and sliced into my piece.
Morgan was a features writer for a news website and entertained me with details from her stories. They ranged from scary to utterly ridiculous.
“I need access to one and didn’t want to go through the process of a fake sign-up if you still had yours.”
“Of course.” I perked up as I dug my phone out of my purse. At a friend’s request last year, I’d catfished her boyfriend to find out if he was cheating. I made a fake name and a vague side profile at a good enough angle to entice someone to write back to me. I never used it for real dating, just for laughing at profiles either alone or with Morgan over drinks. Some of them were so obviously fake I was tempted to write to one just to see what they’d reply.
“Just search for eligible men by area and see what comes up.”
“You really want to see how many local weirdos there are,” I said on a chuckle before my breath caught in my throat when I scrolled to the third name.
“What?” Morgan asked.
“I found Tyler.” I threw the phone onto the table as a humorless laugh fell from my lips.
“Stop it.” She scooped up the phone and studied the screen. When she had nothing to say for a long minute, my heart sank deeper into my stomach.
“Maybe…” My eyes clenched shut at her usualmaybe this isn’t so badtone. She’d tried it in my bathroom when I found out I was pregnant, and like always, it had the opposite effect. “Maybe someone made a fake profile after seeing him online and in the paper. They do that. I’m sure.”
When I’d called him a thirst trap for his cluelessly gorgeous picture in the newspaper and read the comments from those women online, I wasn’t jealous. I’d thought it was amusing, especially seeing how it made Tyler want to crawl out of his skin. I’d never thought for even a minute that it was something I had to worry about.
I picked the phone back up, scanning the screen in the hopes of grasping at something to make this discovery less awful.
“He opened his profile right after the wedding and was last active this week. I’m not sure what’s worse. That he wanted to meet someone new right after we spent the night together, or that he’s still looking now.” I pushed my plate away as bile rose in the back of my throat. I’d managed almost six months of pregnancy without throwing up, and now I had to take deep breaths not to puke all over Morgan and Leah’s floor.
“I believe there’s an explanation other than Tyler is on the prowl while you’re about to have his baby, but seriously. Talk. To. Him.”
“You’re right.” I stood from the table and made my way over to the front door to grab my coat.
“Olivia, I didn’t mean charge over there hot.” Morgan rushed over to me and grabbed my arm.
I swiveled around, missing the buttons on my coat as my hands shook. “And how should I go over there?”
“I say this because I love you. You’re not thinking clearly right now.” She squeezed my hand. “Don’t rush in and attack when you’re only going to regret it later. Sit back down and take a minute. Please.”
She was trying to help me, but the sympathy in her eyes only fueled me more. She was right—I was high on emotion and sick of all the uncertainty I hadn’t been able to face. Despite my best friend’s plea, no number of minutes would make me feel better.
I needed to know what was between us—right now.
“As you said, I avoided this for too long, and I’m done being afraid when it comes to Tyler.” My jaw trembled when I spied the sympathy in her eyes. “I’m so exhausted, Morg. Truly exhausted.”
