I wondered if Max would confess to me, admit that Freya’s baby wasn’t his. We were not close, but the secret must have been eating at him. Opening up to me would give him some relief. And strengthen my position in their family unit. But Max just muttered, “I’m not really dad material. Not after what I did to Ryan Klassen. Not after all I put Freya through.”

“Leave it with me,” I said, setting my half-empty mug on the counter. “I’ll make sure Freya’s prepared.”

I headed for the door.

Chapter 46

46

The studio was sweltering despite the February chill. Freya had cranked the heat to allow her to wear a unique pottery uniform. Instead of her usual smock and baggy jeans, she wore a fitted white tank top that strained over her belly, and a colorful sarong wrapped low around her hips. Her hair was pulled up into a messy but artfully arranged bun. The clay was wedged, packed into a ball, and waiting on the wheel. Her metal container of water and a sponge were on hand. She was ready for me.

“Hey, babe,” she said, all sweetness and light. “I’m sorry about yesterday. Jamie and I had a lot of catching up to do.”

#bestfriends #backtogether #grateful

“About what?” I groused. “It’s not like she’s done anything interesting in the past month.”

“She wanted to talk about the baby,” Freya said, with a slight eye roll. “You know she’s barren, so this is the closest she’s going to get to having one of her own.”

Closer than she thinks. Jamie thought she was this baby’s pseudo aunt. She had no idea she was its stepmother.

“Jamie wants us to do a step-by-step birthing plan. But she’s going to be in the delivery room with me, so I figure she can take charge of things.”

The last thing I wanted was to witness Freya’s delivery. I’d caught unfortunate glimpses of my siblings’ home births and they’d scarred me for life. But Jamie’s role as amateur midwife annoyed me. I didn’t like the thought of her coaching and supporting Freya through this disgusting, but purportedly special, event.

“Let’s get started,” I retorted.

Freya gave me a quizzical look, but obliged. She positioned herself at the wheel, flicked it on, and within moments she was transformed. I would later learn that Freya, in Norse mythology, was the goddess of fertility, the most beautiful of all the deities. I watched the sensual, artistic pregnant woman at work. Her name fit her perfectly.