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Yeah fucking right.
Monica doesn’t respond and it’s clear she’s mustn’t agree with what Candice is suggesting. After all, Monica has been there to see the way he has chosen me over her time and time again. Hell, she was there when I walked out of his bedroom on Saturday morning.
“What does it matter anyway?” Candice continues. “You got him back.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” Monica says in a hushed whisper. “He’s going to realize sooner or later that there’s no bump. You know, yesterday he asked me to see the ultrasound picture you’re supposed to get. I had to lie and say that the doctor didn’t print it out.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
The bitch isn’t even pregnant.
I scramble around for my phone, realizing that I’m not going to stumble upon this kind of information again. I hit record and pray to whoever exists out there that this conversation continues.
“Don’t be such wet blanket,” Candice says with a slight slur, probably applying a layer of bright pink lip gloss as she talks. “It’s simple. Baby bumps don’t show straight away so just fake a miscarriage in a few weeks. It’ll get him off your back and you won’t have to worry about Henley. He’ll feel obligated to stay with you for a few weeks after that and in that time, you can work on sorting your shit out.”
“You think?” Monica questions.
“Yeah, for sure,” Candice says. “My friend at Broken Hill did it to her boyfriend and it worked like a charm.”
“And the whole ‘bump’ thing?”
“Just eat a few burgers and you’ll gain a few pounds,” she suggests. “But if you get fat, you’re off the squad.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
I get myself fixed up and flush the toilet before strutting out of the stall with way too many emotions fluttering through me. It’s like all my prayers have been answered but at the same time, it’s going to cause more drama as too much has been said. It’ll force us to face it. Finally, all the pain can stop and me and Noah can maybe get back on track, you know, once we sort through all the shit that’s been said and done.
I walk straight up to the sink where Candice and Monica are fixing their makeup and grin as both their eyes widen. “You know what I love about communal bathrooms?” I question as I wash my hands. “You always manage to learn something about somebody.”
I walk over to the hand dryers and hold them under there for a few seconds before holding up my phone and giving it a little wiggle as Monica’s face turns a deathly shade of white. “You know, I bet I know a few other people who’d be interested in learning about you too.”
With that, I walk out the bathroom door, finally feeling like things are starting to look up.
Chapter 18
I’ve spent the day cuddled up on my couch with a handheld mirror, watching the bruise spread across my cheekbone. Noah got me good, like fucking good. I can just picture his face when he sees this, which I wouldn’t be surprised if it was sometime this afternoon.
All I’ve wanted for the past few hours is to go over to his place and tell him everything I know, except he’s not there. I got a text from Tully just after I got home saying he was MIA. Rivers has already checked their place while Tully checked the school, meaning he could be anywhere.
I grab my phone and hash out a text.
Henley – I need to tell you something.
Delete.
Henley – Can we talk?
Delete.
Henley – …
Delete.
Damn it. This isn’t the kind of news I want to tell him through a text, especially with how things are between us. It would be too easy for him to accuse me of lying. I don’t think that would happen, but the thought is still there. Besides, I need to show him the proof on my phone. He needs to hear it with his own ears.
The other thing holding me back is the fact that if this comes from me, he’s going to forever remember that I was the one who told him he wasn’t going to be a father. All the shit that’s been running through his mind over the past week is all going to be torn away by me. I’m going to be the bitch who ruins that, not Monica.
Damn it. This shit is so hard, but if he was to find out that I knew and didn’t say anything, I’d be in even more shit.
Decisions. Decisions.
A knock sounds at the door and I jolt up on the couch. Could this be Noah already? Has he come to grovel for forgiveness? I’m not sure that I’m ready to hear it just yet, but at the same time, all I want is to throw my arms around him and have him tell me that it’s all going to be ok.
