Page 64 of View With Your Heart

He can’t be. Gee is twelve. Britton was married. She told me Patrick was his dad. But vaguely, I recall that she never actually said that. She refers to him all the time as Patrick.

Another thought occurs. It takes nine full months to be pregnant. The last time I saw Brit . . . was thirteen years ago . . . and we . . . but I was cautious. I used condoms. She was on the pill. Except for that one time. I do some math. I assumed Britton had hooked up with Patrick pretty quickly after she and I had been together, which didn’t settle well, but I couldn’t pass judgment after all this time. However, now I’m curious about something specific.

“Gee, when is your birthday?”

“April twenty-seven.”

Quickly, I count backward and turn to Britton, who sits with an elbow on the table, pressing at her forehead with her fingertips. Her eyes are closed.

“Britton.” My throat clogs. My voice cracks on her name. With Mrs. Drummond still standing at the opposite side of the table, I turn back to her and slowly stand.

“Thank you, Mrs. Drummond. I’ll look into this.” My hand curls under Britton’s arm, nudging her to stand without asking. Cupping the underside of her arm, she quietly follows the silent directive, and I lead her toward an exit.

“Gavin,” Mum calls to me as we pass her table.

“Not now, Mum,” I state, dismissing her as I continue to tug Britton for the door. Once outside, we walk a few feet from the barn before Britton tugs her arm free from my tight grasp and turns to face me.

“I was going to tell you.”

“When?” I yell, every part of me vibrating with confusion.

“After the wedding,” she says, her head lowering, and she swipes hair over an ear. I hate how much I love that habit. I hate how much I want to touch her. Right now, I hate her.

“It’s after the wedding,” I sarcastically clarify. Then I jump to the biggest question. “Is he mine?” Again, my voice struggles. Britton looks up and off at the orchard. Her eyes close a second before she turns to face me. Looking me directly in the eyes, she answers.

“Yes.”

What the fuck? I swipe a hand into my hair and hold it at the top of my head, turning away from her and then quickly spinning around.

“How could you keep this from me?” I have a million more questions, but my thoughts are crashing so fast I can’t think straight.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. We were together, and then you were gone.”

I see red as this has already been explained.

“I didn’t have a phone number for you or know how to get ahold of you. It’s not like I could just call a general number for the team and be connected with you.”

I huff. “What about an internet search? Or . . . my parents?” Jesus, my parents live right here in town. Britton looks away from me, and something in the motion gives me pause.

“Do my parents know?” Again, I choke on the words.

“I never told them outright,” Britton says as if that’s an answer.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, I was pretty certain I’d recognize my own grandchild.” I spin to find my mother behind me, and Dad next to her.

“Mum, this is—” I don’t even know what this is. A private matter? A shitshow? The ultimate betrayal? I spin back to Britton. “You married another man.”

“That’s a whole other story.”

“Well, it’s fucking story time, so tell me,” I demand.

“Gavin,” Mum softly says behind me, and I spin back to her, pointing a finger in her direction.

“No. No, I can’t believe this, right now.”

“You watch your tone, son,” Dad says.