“First of all, people do it all the time. And who said I don’t love him? The problem is that I do. And he’s the father of my child. I have to try to make this work.”

I nod.

“The other thing is the money. I can’t argue with that. It’s millions and millions of dollars, Olive. I can never make that much money and my child deserves to have access to it.”

“Maybe she’s bluffing?” I ask.

“Maybe, but I can’t risk my whole future on that gamble,” Sydney says. “I don’t have a job and even if I were to get one, I don’t want to raise this child alone. He or she deserves to know their father and I want their father to be in their life. If there’s some chance that I can make it work with him, I can’t throw it away.”

The afternoon quickly turns into evening as we sit on the couch and talk like we haven’t since I met Nicholas.

I tell her all about my life back in California and everything that has happened since then.

I fill her in on all of the details about Nicholas’ arrest and the investigating that I have been doing to find out the truth and get him back to me.

As expected, Sydney is not so quick to believe in his innocence and plays the devil’s advocate for a while. I actually appreciate it because it allows me to go through all of the theories of what might have happened, given what I know now.

Luckily, what she is receptive to is in helping me find out the truth.

“I guess we should go to Maine then and try to talk to this Robert Bortham,” she says.

“Really? You want to come with me?” I ask, taken a bit by surprise.

“Of course, I’d love to go on a little road trip and Maine is quite beautiful this time of year.”

“If you like winter,” I joke.

“The nature is breathtaking, you’ll love it.”

We leave the following morning. I pack light with only one pair of leggings, two tops, a sweater, and a coat while Sydney brings a large suitcase that would have to go underneath the plane if she were flying.

“Are you planning on moving there?” I joke. She shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s mainly just makeup and shoes. Boots take up a lot of space, you know.”

“I do, that’s why I’m wearing mine.”

She throws her arm around my shoulder and gives me a peck on the cheek. “You know you love me.”

“Of course, I do. What I don’t love is your packing.”

The drive from Boston to Bangor is just around four hours and we get there by early afternoon.

Surprisingly, his address wasn’t that hard to find and required just a quick search through the white pages online.