Stepping to the side, he avoided contact. “Oh?”
“Yes. It’s something you always wanted.”
“Is it?” He tried to smile, to appear as though he wasn’t going out of his mind with fear and confusion. Where was the boy? And what was that look in her eyes? If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect she was on something.
“Yes. Come.” She passed him and started up the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “It’s in your room.”
He had no choice. He had to follow her because if he was understanding her, understanding the situation, she was about to tell him the baby she’d cruelly denied him before was his.
35
“Men are pigs! Swines! Assholes! Scum sucking ameba on the bottom of a rancid puddle of sludge!” Mazey swung her glass and splashed wine on her hand. Bringing it to her mouth, she sucked the liquid off her skin and muttered, “They should all die.”
“I think that’s a little harsh. Not all men are pigs or assholes or . . . what was it? Scum sucking ameba?” Alyssa laughed. “That last one is kind of creative, considering you’re three sheets to the wind.”
“I am?” She frowned at her glass. “But I’ve only had one.”
“Yeah, but it’s a bottomless one.”
“Am I drunk?” How much had she had? She didn’t feel drunk. She just felt numb. And rage. She felt hot angry rage. Glancing at Alyssa’s living room windows, she noticed it was dark. How long has she been here? “I need to get home.”
Alyssa laughed. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“But I have dinner in the . . .” She frowned. She’d made dinner in the crockpot at Rylan’s house. “The lying, cheating, pig swine, asshole sucking ameba.”
Her friend’s snort of laughter pulled her gaze back to the room.
“I don’t see what’s funny. The man I’ve fallen for, the father of my—” She gasped, slamming the glass in her hand on the coffee table and waved her hands in front of her. “I can’t drink! I can’t be drunk!”
“Ease up there, ranty, you’ll break something.” Alyssa leaned over and moved the glass further away. “And why can’t you drink and rant about the situation? A few glasses of wine will help you feel better or drown your sorrows. Either way, you’ll find relief from everything.”
Mazey surged to her feet, both hands on her stomach. “I’m pregnant!”
Alyssa blinked up at her. “Pregnant? As in having a baby pregnant? You?”
Nodding, Mazey swallowed. “I’m a terrible mother. I’m barely one, and already I’m feeding my child alcohol.”
“A baby. Pregnant.” Alyssa shook her head. “You’re pregnant. I assume the baby is Ry’s?”
“Yes. I’m not far, we’re only just . . .” She sucked in a breath. “We’re not anything. He’s—” A sob choked off her words.
“Hey, hey.” Alyssa bounded to her feet and pulled Mazey in for a hug. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay. And you’re not a terrible mother. It takes more than a glass of wine to do any damage to a fetus. I should know. I wouldn’t be a nurse, and Penny wouldn’t be in AP classes if it took so little.”
Mazey sniffled. “What?”
Alyssa sighed. “Penny is living with me because our mother is an alcoholic and has been for over thirty years. I’m pretty sure your baby is safe. And you probably only had a glass and a half at most. I topped it up just once, and we’ve been here for three hours.”
“Three hours? But I feel—”
“That’s probably more about your overwrought state than the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I should see a doctor?”
“How far along are you?” Alyssa guided her back down on the sofa. “I’m pretty sure you and the baby will be okay, but we can go to the ER if you want.”
Sighing, Mazey slumped back against the cushions. “I’m about four weeks. I’ve got an appointment to see Dr. Hanson next Monday. It’s my first visit.”
“Maz, I need to tell you something.”
