you’ve been planning to hand me someone else’s baby like it was mine to claim?”
A floorboard creaked. Lila stood in the doorway, pale as paper, looking from the box to Drew. “What did you do?” she whispered.
“Lila —”
“You told me she knew. I suspected she didn’t… that’s why I wrote her that letter.”
“I was going to tell her.”
“When?” I snapped.
“After the baby shower?”
Lila covered her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“I asked you,” she said, staring at Drew now. “I asked if I should talk to her.
I said this felt wrong.”
“I was trying to protect everyone.”
I turned to her. “Who is the father?”
She swallowed hard. “A man I dated briefly.
When I told him I was pregnant, he disappeared. I told Drew because I was scared.”
I folded the letter carefully. “So, let me understand this.
Drew found out you were pregnant, told you I’d be on board, and you both let me walk around this house like an idiot.”
Lila sat down hard on the bed, crying. “I’m so sorry, Aria. If I’d known the truth…
I never would’ve come.”
And the worst part was, I believed her. I had loved Drew for 20 years. I knew his good qualities, the hand at my back in crowded rooms, the way he sensed my migraines, the man who cried after our second failed transfer when he thought I hadn’t seen.
But standing there in the guest room, I knew this too: grief hadn’t made him kinder. It had made him controlling. He had decided hope gave him the right to choose for me.
“You don’t get to make another decision for me,” I said. Drew opened his mouth. I lifted my hand.
“No. You’re done talking.”
Lila stood frozen near the bed, eyes red, one hand curled over her stomach. Drew looked between us like he thought there was some version of this he could explain his way out.
“There isn’t a good way to apologize for what I did,” he said quietly. “No,” I said. “There isn’t.
You need to leave, Drew. And tomorrow, you can tell your mother what you did.”
“You heard me. Go to a hotel.
I don’t really care. But you’re not sleeping in this house tonight and acting like time is going to soften this for me.”
“Aria, please.”
I stepped back from him. “I’ve spent seven years being careful with my grief.
You don’t get to stand here and ask me to be careful with yours.”
He looked at Lila. “Are you okay?”
She wiped her face and didn’t answer. He grabbed an overnight bag from the hall closet.
A moment later, the front door closed. I reached for my phone. “Who are you calling?” Lila whispered.
“Naomi, my best friend,” I said. “And tomorrow, Drew can tell his mother what he did before I do.”
Lila sat on the edge of the bed. “I should go too.”
“No,” I said.
“You stay. He leaves.”
She looked up, startled. I took the chair by the window because my knees no longer trusted me.
“I’m not angry that you’re pregnant. I’m angry that he turned both of us into parts of a decision he had no right to make.”
Lila pressed a hand to her mouth. “I never would’ve come if I’d known.”
“I know.”
“What happens now?”
I looked at the box on the bed.
The tiny hat. The folded clothes. The future my husband had tried to place in my arms before I ever got the chance to choose.
“Now,” I said, “we tell the truth.”
She stared at me.
