Who would randomly think Jonas Rutherford was Bash’s father the way Zen clearly already does?
“Oh my god,” I whisper while Bash shoves cake in his face on my lap. “Youallknow.”
Dad doesn’t make eye contact in the rearview mirror, but Zen turns to face me. “Strongly suspected, but not until recently. Next time you have a secret baby, I highly recommend making sure they don’t look exactly like their father. Especially whentheir father is likely to have his baby pictures shown on every entertainment news site on the entire planet when hisWho Are We?podcast wins every award known to podcasting man.”
“Oh god.”
“Never would’ve suspected without seeing the baby pictures,” Zen says. “Seriously, Em. It was a fluke that we saw his baby pictures, and I don’t think anyone other than the six or eleven of us who know you best would’ve drawn the correlation. Nobody else looks at Bash as much as we do.”
I’m going to hyperventilate.
I’m going to hyperventilate.
“Emma Monroe, listen to me,” they say. “Sabrina has this. No one’s breathing a word if they don’t want to face her wrath.”
“I should have this myself,” I snap back.
Zen rocks in the seat and nearly bumps their head on the window when Dad takes a switchback curve too fast.
“Em, you are a champ at taking care of your entire life by yourself,” Zen says. “Handling your baby daddy showing up after he ignored your messages for over two years? And don’t tell me you were lying when you said you sent your honeymoon fling ultrasound and baby pictures. You’reEmma. We know you did it.”
“Oh my god. You all know.”
Zen winces. “Full disclosure, the triplets know too. They were hanging out with us the night we had the awards show on, and you know Jack and Decker. It was immediately-to-the-keyboard-to-see-who-can-find-it-first. We know he was on the same island as you when you went on your runawaymoon. Which wedon’tthink anyone else in town knows. Or would put together.”
“Oh my god.”
“Look, my biggest point here is, please don’t deprive your friends of the chance to help the bastard see himself back out.You’ve done enough by yourself.Pleaselet us in the sandbox with you for this one.”
I bury my face in Bash’s silky light brown hair and inhale his sweaty boy scent.
They’re right.
Since I jilted Chandler Sullivan two and a half years ago, I’ve found strength I didn’t know I had.
A little cynicism too. Definitely more wariness.
I wasn’t alone during my pregnancy. Zen badgered me until I caved and agreed to let them help me whenever I had a craving and didn’t want to drive myself out to get it. Laney and Sabrina were right there with me when I gave birth, holding my hands. I have babysitters galore and Bash and I want for nothing.
But I’m still a single mom, a small business owner, and I hope a good friend back.
AndI like it.
“I wanted to go to my brother’s wedding reception,” I say.
“Unka Deo tisses!” Bash cries with a mouthful of chocolate cake.
“Still can,” Zen says. “We can keep the riffraff out. They don’t know the secret passcode to get in.”
I meet their eyes again.
They’re right.
Why should I hide?
Dad glances at me again in the rearview mirror.
Zen checks their phone. “The wedding crasher has officially been removed from public view by the sheriff.”
