Freya looked at me, her lip curled into a sneer. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

She’d sensed my hope, but I was far from loving this. “Yeah, it’s wonderful,” I snapped. “My best friend is pregnant with my husband’s child, and she’s been lying about it for months.”

“I told you it’s not his fucking baby! You’re so desperate to be a mother that you’re trying to steal my child. You’re sick. You’re pathetic.”

Anger welled up inside of me and made my voice shake. “Then prove it,” I said. “Because if the baby is Brian’s, it will be a hell of a lot better off having me for a mother than you!”

Freya’s eyes widened with shock, and her face paled with chagrin. My words were cruel, they would irrevocably destroy our friendship. But it felt good to stand up to her, to hurt her even. She thought I was weak and cowardly. She thought I worshipped her so much that I’d cave in, back down. But I would fight for the truth about this baby.

She took a step back as if I’d slapped her.

“Oh shit,” she said. “I think my water just broke.”

I saw the wet patch on her designer maternity jeans, watched it spread down her legs. “It’s too early,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“Fuck,” Max muttered.

“Is it too early?” Brian asked. “If the baby’s mine, you’re only a couple weeks from your due date.”

“It’s not fucking yours!” Freya screeched, her face red, eyes wild. She was hunched over, clutching her belly. She looked angry. And terrified.

“We need to go to the hospital,” Max said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, tears pricking my eyes. Had my verbal attack caused premature labor? Was the baby in jeopardy because I couldn’t control my rage? “Can I do anything? Does she have her bag packed?”

“Stay the fuck away from me, Jamie!” Freya yelled as Max grabbed a small case from the front closet and escorted her to the door. “You’re not getting anywhere near me, or my baby!”

Chapter 52

52

max

We took my car; Brian had parked directly behind Freya’s white Range Rover. The hospital was only a fifteen-minute drive from our home, but Freya’s contractions seemed to be pretty intense. At least, that’s what I could deduce from the vitriol she spewed at me through gritted teeth.

“You sent that fucking e-mail, didn’t you? You told Jamie that it’s not your baby.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You’re the only one who knows I slept with Brian! It has to be you, you fucking traitor!”

“It wasn’t. You must have told someone.”

“Who would I tell? I have no one here!” Then she let out a fierce, guttural scream as a contraction hit her.