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Fred coughs against his hand. “She did, yes.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Max asks, looking at him, his mouth agape.
Fred shoves his hands into his shorts, staring at the ground. He can’t tell him the reason because it’s selfish and too awful for words.
“He told me you wanted nothing to do with us. That you’ve been in this position before with other women…”
“And you believed that?” Max looks at me, like I’m the one who betrayed him.
My nods are hesitant and small. Molly comes to his side, looking at Fred and then at me.
“Fred, what did you do?” she pleads, walking toward us with crossed arms. Pedestrians weave around us, looking back like we’re a five-car wreck. I don’t blame them. I was always good fodder for town gossip.
“I protected our family,” he says, so sure of himself.
“Did you lie to this poor girl?” Molly asks, pointing to me. “How old were you, dear?”
“I was twenty. Barely twenty,” I say.
“Frederick, really?” She folds her arms.
Fred says nothing. He walks past me, and I feel the breeze from his movement. Molly says from behind me, “We need to go home.”
“Yes, we do,” Fred says. Frozen in my spot, I hear the door to Gold Roast open and close. Max still stands against the brick, staring at me. I feel hands on my arms.
It’s Max’s mom, the regret etched in her face.
In that moment, I know she had nothing to do with it. That Max got his heart of gold from her.
“I’m so sorry, dear.” She hugs me, hard, and I melt into her arms. Her hand pats down my hair as I struggle to keep the tears away. I glance at Max, who hasn’t moved.
“Today is not the day, but I would love to meet my grandbaby one day, if that’s okay with you,” she says when she pulls away, grabbing my hands.
“She would love that,” I say.
She lets go of my hands and walks back inside. Max still stands there, his iciness palpable. Bracing myself, I walk toward him.
"Why didn’t you tell me?”
Breathing in and out, I still feel my heart drop. “I wanted to tell you, but I—I didn’t want you to think less of him.”
“He kept me from you, from our daughter.”
“I know.” Looking down, I say, “He told me you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“You believed him? And you took his money?”
I nod, holding my head up.
“Did you figure it out? That he lied to you?”
Nodding, I bite my lip.
“When?” he asks. His voice drops to a whisper. “When, Em?”
“Tuesday,” I say.
That truth hunches Max’s shoulders, and he can’t look at me. He leans in so I can hear his whisper. “Really? You made love to me, knowing my dad lied to you?”
