Jesus, just say it!
"I think I might be pregnant."
Suzie stares at me, for once in her life, entirely out of words. "Are you serious?" she shrieks.
"Shhh!"
"When were you going to tell me?" Suzie hisses, somewhere between disappointment and complete shock.
"I was going to tell you once I confirmed it," I admit. "I’ve been feeling off lately, and I’m over a month late on my period. I’ve tried to reason it away, but I know the signs. I just wasn’t ready for it to be true just yet."
Suzie stares at me. "Do you think you should tell him since he’s here now?"
"No, absolutely not. Especially not now that I know who he is. Besides, I've raised a kid alone before; I can do it again."
Suzie's jaw clenches. "We are not done talking about this. But right now, let's get you out of here and home.”
7
VIKTOR
"This is a shit show."
This entire night has turned into a disaster. I wasn't even supposed to come tonight, but Iliya reminded me how good it looks when I give exorbitant amounts to charity.
I walk in and immediately look for the dogs. They’re the only living beings I want to interact with tonight. As I make my way to the area where I see the puppies, however, I stop in my tracks at the scene that unfolds before me. I see my bitch of an ex-wife and my estranged son in his wheelchair. I’m not surprised they’re here. What I can't believe is who I see with them.
Leah.
She’s as beautiful in person as she is in my memory, if not more so, and my heart picks up at the sight of her curves in that dress, of those eyes, of those lips, and that face I’ve dreamed about since the night we spent together.
Another woman's arm is wound tightly through hers, a strawberry blonde, slightly taller than Leah, wearing a Barbie-pink dress with sequins. The fierce, protective expression on herface doesn’t match the outfit and would scare almost anyone, save for my ex-wife.
Leah herself is glaring at my ex and my son, an edge of panic to her expression. What the hell is happening? Does Clarissa know about my night with Leah? Or is it the fact that Peter is Leah's deadbeat ex, the one paralyzed in the car accident that had killed his girlfriend when Leah was waiting at home for him?
When Leah first told the story of her doomed romance, I couldn't believe what she was saying, because the story matched that of my son's. Then I grew angry, thinking she had left him because he was paralyzed. I reserved my judgment for the full story—and got what I rightfully deserved for listening. I received the complete picture of what a terrible person Clarissa raised our son to be.Enabledour son to be.
No one has noticed me yet, so I slip a few steps closer, listening as the conversation becomes clear enough to hear Clarissa’s dig. I’m about ready to step in on Leah's behalf when Leah herself speaks up. She appears calm and collected, though by the way she clutches her friend’s arm, she's anything but.
As if the woman I fell for on that Brooklyn sidewalk isn’t perfect, isn’t beautiful enough with her curves that give me something to wrap my hands around, with her brilliant hazel eyes, with the way she loses herself with abandon in bed, she’s having a showdown with my ex-wife, who lives her life scaring others into submission. I can see the effect it’s having on Clarissa by the way her eyes keep narrowing and red flashes up her neck.
Oh how well I know that look from all the arguments we’ve had over the years. Now I realize that's not what a relationship is about—winning or losing. We were young and stupid. She wanted the power, and I wanted arm candy and an heir.
And now I have neither, but I do have a substantial alimony payment.
I can tell Clarissa is about to go off by the way she gathers herself, the red spreading to color the skin of her chest and ears. I will not let Leah be on the other end of that shrieking harpy’s vitriol.
"Is something the matter?"
Clarissa's eyes, slightly glazed with alcohol, dart to me and fill with rage. My son’s attention moves to mine, and then away, because he can't hold my gaze. It takes Leah a moment more for her eyes to register that it's me before they open wide, then wider, and wider still as Clarissa starts in on me.
Concern is my overarching feeling when I glance at Leah, whose skin is ashen. She's also clutching her friend’s arm so tightly she's leaving red marks.
Before I can ask her if she's okay, she darts away through the crowd, trailing words I can't make out, her blonde friend following.
"She just couldn't handle her shame," Clarissa sniffs.
"It looks like she handled you pretty well."
