“Fine. You want my full plan? Right now, you need Bea and this baby to turn your reputation around. And Bea needs you too. She needs your support. Both of you stand to take a lot from starting a relationship.”
“A relationship?”
“It doesn’t have to be real. It just has to look real.”
My mouth opens and closes as I process what she’s saying.
“You want me to spend my off-season fake-dating the woman carrying my baby?”
“Yes, Rett. That is exactly what I want you to do.”
22
BEATRICE
What’s that saying, the truth is meant to set you free? Well, I call bullshit. Since the moment I opened that email, and then not long after Everett’s message, everything has gotten worse.
I don’t feel free; I feel trapped.
It’s been two days and I’m walking around with a heavy heart and knots in my stomach.
He may have said sorry, but that’s been it.
Okay, I didn’t reply either. But should I?
I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just…I’m trying to keep my head above water and survive.
I’m not sure what I was hoping for, really. I knew it was unlikely that Everett would learn the truth and turn up here with a giant stuffed toy for our unborn child, pull me into his arms and promise me that everything will be alright. I don’t even want that…do I?
I just…I want the truth for my child. I want their father to have a choice, I want …
Sleep. I want to sleep.
I’m so fucking tired. Every movement is hard work. My muscles are weak, and holding a conversation with clients isexcruciating. I just want to go home and curl up in bed—only I don’t, because my new apartment is the last place I want to be.
Tears burn my eyes as I tidy up after my last client of the day. Things haven’t always been easy for me. I’m sure many would take one look at my name and make all the wrong assumptions that I’ve lived this luxurious, glamorous life. But it’s all a smoke show.
This salon, even when I was on the verge of losing it, has made me the happiest I’ve ever been.
With everything cleaned up, I drop back into the seat and lift my feet from the floor. My soles pound in time with my heartbeat.
I glance over at the foot spa longingly. But as nice as it might feel, I don’t have the energy to set it all up.
With a sigh, I pull my cell from my pocket. I respond to a couple of emails and react to the memes that Sienna and the girls have put in our group chat throughout the afternoon.
There isn’t anything from Everett, not that I really expect there to be.
I didn’t reply to his apology message, and he hasn’t reached out since.
Maybe I should have. After all, I was the one who forced all this on him. I could have just continued with this pregnancy alone. It’s stupid and naive of me, but I want him to make an effort. I want him to show me that he wants to be a part of this. It’s an unrealistic, idealistic expectation, and I hate that I’m holding out even a shred of hope that he might surprise me.
I’m about to haul myself from the seat so that I can finish up and head home when the door opens, and Sienna pops her head around.
“Hey, you’ve got a visitor,” she says, her eyes narrowing when they land on my face. “Are you okay?”
I dread to think what she can see. I did the best I could with makeup this morning to hide the dark shadows that circle my eyes and to brighten my complexion with some highlighter and blusher, but I’ve no doubt that it’s long faded now.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, but it comes with a wince as I put my weight back on my feet.
