Braelyn’s Jeep pulls up rightin front of the hospital, and I climb in. I didn’t see Josh or Aston again during my shift, and things got so busy, I didn’t have a chance to talk to Michaela. I’ll tell her on Monday and explain… I don’t know what I’ll explain to her. I won’t tell her the truth. Michaela is my friend, but she’s not my inner people, and as a Fritz, we’re taught from a young age to be careful with our trust and secrets.
People target us. They like to exploit us. And they can be wolves in sheep’s clothing, though I don’t think that’s her. Still, it’s a secret I don’t want getting around or whispered about either.
“Helllooo there, buttercup. How are we feeling on this fine winter’s day?”
I give my cheerful friend an impatient look. “You’re kidding me with that, right?”
She puts the Jeep into drive and heads out. “Just trying to keep it as light as possible. It’s a shame that I can’t get you drunk after this.”
“You’re telling me. If ever there was a time I could use a drink, it’s now.”
“Instead, we’ll have to settle for really amazing Italian food in the North End and pastries after.”
I nearly groan as I haven’t eaten much today. I had some morning sickness, but it was mostly nerves that wouldn’t let meeat. The thought of spicy pasta and cannolis might be enough to get me through.
“Am I crazy for doing this?”
“No. It’s not forever. It’s to help a child over her hump and to help you while you’re growing yours. That’s all this is and how you have to think about it.”
I nod. She’s right.
“I have your stuff at my place all ready for you.”
I sigh and turn toward the window and the Boston traffic surrounding us. “It feels weird to get dressed up for this.”
“You can’t go in scrubs. That’s nasty. Besides, it’s not like you’re wearing white.”
“No,” I agree. I’m wearing pink, which, in retrospect, I sort of wish I weren’t. Pink is my favorite color, and I thought that by wearing it, I’d feel strong and beautiful and confident. But I had always envisioned myself getting married in a pink gown, and now I’m afraid I’ve ruined that.
Braelyn takes me to her apartment, and I wordlessly shower and change. She does my hair, curling my blonde locks, and helps me with my makeup when my fingers tremble.
“I should be wearing a trash bag.”
She gasps, affronted. “Never. You’re a Fritz. I don’t have your money. I don’t have your family’s fame. And I don’t know all the emotional shit you’re battling right now. But you’re marrying a Hughes, and when the pictures eventually slip into social media, you need to look like a goddess happily in love on her wedding day.”
I watch my reflection as another spiral curl falls behind my head. “Josh threatened me today. He demanded that I unblock him or he’d start showing up at my house or following me around the hospital more. He’s held back on the latter. My cousins and uncles work there, and he’s a resident. He’s not stupid. That’s self-preservation. But he was… unhinged. I don’t know. It’s like from the moment Aston showed up at the hospital, a switch flipped in him. He made me… afraid again.”
Braelyn stares at me in the mirror, quietly waiting me out.
“I’ve been thinking since I found out…” I stare down at my hands. “Am I a horrible person if I don’t tell him that it’s his?”
Braelyn continues with my hair as if I didn’t ask a monumental question. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d tell him if I were you. Maybe that does sound bad, but to me, it sounds safe. He might question and demand a paternity test. That’s something you’d have to be ready for. You have money. A lot of money. And your name goes very far in this town. If you lie or hide it from him, that might not look so great if the truth gets out. But if it were me, I wouldn’t want him to know or have any right to my child. He’s dangerous. He’s destructive. He’s selfish and scary and not safe. He’s not fucking safe, Skylar. If you tell me he’s not the father of your child, I will go to the mattresses over that. Besides, you’ll be married, and the baby will look like Aston’s whether you confirm that or not. You could also go to your family with this. Your parents.”
Tears line my eyes, and I continue to stare at my hands. “I know, and I will. It was hard to tell everyone after I left him, but I did because it was important for them to know. Fritzes are always made out to be perfect. Famous billionaires who run Boston. Our faces and secrets have been splashed across tabloids a million times over, and because of this, my family is very cautious and aware of our appearance to the world. And when you come from a family like that and feel like you’re anything but perfect, it’s hard to talk about it. I never wanted my secrets out there for others to pick apart and ridicule me the way they have my entire life.”
“I know. But this situation is different.”
I swallow and nod because I know it is. “Do you know anyone who can fix things like this?”
“Yes,” she tells me. “I do.”
I do too. Roman and Forest are friends with people in some very dark places. As a result, I know people who could fix this so that Josh, even if he tried to contest paternity, would never know that the baby is his. I just have to figure out how far I’m willing to go with this.
“My mom had an abusive stepfather,” she says. “He… well, my mom doesn’t talk about it. But I think—in fact, I know, that there are certain reasons why a man should never be a father to a child, especially if he’s hurting the mother of that child.”
A tear plummets from my eye, but no others follow. “Thank you for being here with me today.”
“If not for love and family, then what for?”
