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“Yes,” she croaks. “I have someone.”
“Good.”
“Will this affect the case? I mean, will you have to tell everyone?” Her eyes widen in alarm as she finally looks at me again.
“We’ve got some time before the trial. I won’t tell anyone unless they need to know. And right now, the only people who need to know with regards to the case are you and I, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, her shoulders softening.
“But these things have a way of coming out, Chelsea. You aren’t going to be able to hide it for long. You might want to think about telling your parents and anyone else you need for support sooner rather than later.”
“How did you know?” she whispers.
The fear in her young eyes makes my throat burn.
“Your body language. Touching your stomach. The oversized sweatshirts that are getting larger.” I smile gently at her. “And because I recognize the look in your eyes—when something you weren’t expecting has happened and you’re asking yourself if you’re strong enough to deal with it.”
“I’m more scared about this than the trial.” A couple of fat tears fight their way free from her eyes. I’ve never seen her cry.Not once. Not even when she’s been recounting what those men did to her.
“I know.” I reach out and squeeze her arm. “But I can tell you now. You’re a fighter. You’re strong. And you’ve got this.”
She nods, wiping the tears away with her sleeve. “Thank you. I bet doing your job, you get good at reading people, huh?”
I pass her a tissue, not admitting that I recognize the look in her eyes because it’s the same one I saw in my bathroom mirror after taking the first pregnancy test. I swallow around the lump in my throat. No one would believe it, ‘Havers the Handler’, riled by something as tiny as a baby…twobabies. But I have that gnawing sensation in my gut that I get when I know I’m missing something in a case. It’s been there warning me ever since I found out I’m pregnant.
“I’ve got someone who knows and will help me. I’m scared, but you don’t need to worry,” Chelsea says, studying my pinched brow.
I school my features so that my emotions are no longer written all over my face. I never allow them to show at work. I can’t. It’s how I win my cases. No emotion. Only facts.
“Good.” I give Chelsea a more practiced smile. “I’ll see you at our next meeting, okay?”
“It’s not like you to have dessert at lunch,” Halliday quips as I spoon up a lump of ice-cream from my bowl.
“Craving, maybe. I don’t know.” I lick the spoon, my mind wandering to Chelsea. Is the father of her baby the man who tricked her into going to that grimy apartment with him? Or the second, unidentified friend he invited over after?
“You’re thinking about your client again,” Halliday says.
“I am.” I place my spoon down.
We’ve come to a small Italian restaurant close to my office. Halliday is going to New York to work with her new client in a couple of days, so it’s our only chance to catch up face-to-face until she gets back.
“I know you can’t tell me. Client confidentiality and all that. But I’ve never seen you distracted like this.”
I look down at the melted remnants in my bowl. “It’s just made me think about the babies and finding out who the father is, that’s all.”
Halliday grabs my hand. “The results will be back soon. I’ll be on the other end of the phone whenever you need me. Day or night, okay?”
I smile at her gratefully despite the lead weight in my stomach.
“It’s going to be Henry, I know it. And I can’t help feeling guilty that I wish it weren’t.” My mind flashes back to Chelsea. She might not even know the name of her baby’s father. And as much as Henry is a liar and a cheat, he isn’t a man who has sex with young women against their will. He isn’t evil.
“I don’t believe it.” Halliday shakes her head, making her short platinum hair glimmer beneath the restaurant lights. “The energy says otherwise. There’s a connection to Drew there. It’s strong.”
For once, I wish that I had as much faith as her in cosmic planes and signs from the universe. But I’m a girl of science. I had unprotected sex with Henry around the date the babies were conceived. Drew wore a condom. Even though we had sex multiple times the morning after the gala, he wore a condom each time. And none broke. It’s as simple as that.
“Henry keeps texting me and calling me,” I groan. “I’ve got seven voicemails from him I haven’t listened to. And that’s just today.”
“Wow. Is he still claiming he wants to be involved?”
