Her eyes are super bright, like she's about to cry. And there's a pinched expression on her face, like she's holding something back.
I'm not sure what it is, and I guess she just found out, but she's talking, and it takes a moment to penetrate.
"...it's why I haven't been feeling well these past couple of weeks."
"Shit. So, you're not lactose intolerant? Just morning sickness?"
Somehow, my sister must have gotten the pregnancy test in one of those orders she places. And?—
Panic hits. "You've been drinking. Not much. But I know that's not good for a baby. But you didn't know. It's okay. We'll go to the doctor. We'll get married. We?—"
"I didn't, though."
I frown. "Didn't what?"
"Just find out. I don't know why Lyndall didn't throw it out earlier... And I haven't been drinking. Remember the dinner here?"
For some reason, that drives it all home.
That wasn't yesterday or last week.
My lightness turns heavy, and the warmth shrivels down into coldness. A bitterness fills my mouth.
"How long?"
"Long enough," she raises her chin.
Something dark sweeps over me. "Why the fuck did you keep this from me?"
"I didn't?—"
"Yeah, you did. And I'd call it a fucking nasty little secret you've been holding onto tightly." The rage almost blinds me, so I turn from her and start to pace, trying to work some of it off.
"Can you blame me for not telling you?"
"Yeah, I fucking can, Lola. I fucking can."
"It isn't a nasty little secret. I've already decided to keep it."
"Oh, have you? I don't get a say?"
She looks at me then, cold, calm stone. "No. You don't. It's my body."
"But—"
"And it isn't like I wasn't ever going to tell you. I just haven't."
"You know, I'd almost be able to understand if we were still having problems, but you forgave me."
Her face takes on a vicious expression that then turns into something that breaks my heart.
Lola shakes her head, turns, and walks from the room and up the stairs.
I follow.
What the fuck else am I meant to do?
"Lola—"
