“You requested proof that this baby is yours, so get the test done. Maybe the nurse will be good enough to do it now,” I said with a negligent wave I didn’t much feel.

My mother shot me a glance, probably to tell me I wasn’t behaving well, but I no longer cared. Beyond the hurt was a deep, roiling anger I wasn’t sure I’d ever appease—this betrayal ripped too deep for healing.

“I believe you, Ella,” Simon said on a heavy sigh.

I raised my eyebrows. “Not good enough for the attorneys, I’m sure.” I turned my head from him.

The nurse patted my arm before she headed to the door. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where you go for the draw.”

I ignored him, and finally his footsteps shuffled down the hall.

“That wasn’t kind, Ella.”

I pressed my lips together to stifle my trembling chin. “I don’t care.”

Mum reached over and squeezed my hand. “You sure about that? Because I can see how much you’re hurting.”

I turned away from her, too, curling onto my side.

I woke again later, groggy and disoriented.

Right, I was in hospital. I pressed my hand to my growing bump.

“We’ll be okay, my love. You, me, and Jeremiah. You’ll see. This is just a bump in the road. A new reality to get used to. Once Jeremiah and I do, you’ll see us happy again.”

Simon’s despondent voice filled the room. “Do you hate me that much, Ella?”

8

Simon

I lifted my head from where it rested against my chest. Her head whipped toward me, her eyes sheening over as she clamped her jaw tight. We stared at each other for a long moment. Her eyes hardened with each beep of the monitor, but she continued to rest her palms on her belly. Protecting the life within. From me.

I knotted my hands into fists, trying to stave off the rush of emotion clogging my throat and lashing at my heart. The rhythm stuttered as Ella’s eyes slid closed, shutting me out.

The guilt of not being there for her, not being able to hold her at night or kiss those rosy lips each morning—missing yet another goal Jeremiah scored, and seeing his bright grin—the reasons I’d given myself and the lawyer for the divorce faded under the weight of this newer, deeper pain.

“Why are you here?” Ella asked.

My heart trilled at Ella’s voice, even if her tone remained clipped. “Your mother called me. I’m your next of kin.” That sounded harsh. Why did everything seem to come out wrong? “I needed to make sure you were okay. That the baby . . . our daughter is going to be fine.”