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Everyone has finished their meal, although the conversations are still continuing. I place my hands beneath the table, wringing them together while riddled with nerves. Then, Addy places her hand on mine and squeezes it tight. No matter what happens, at least I have her by my side. Not everyone will hate me.
“Um, I have some news to tell everyone.”
Everyone stops what they’re doing with all eyes focused on me. All but Ashton, his time is spent with two Hot Wheel cars running across the table.
With every single person waiting with bated breath for me to speak, the temperature in the room becomes increasingly hot. Beneath my clothes, sweat builds, and my heart races, making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. Underneath the table, Addy squeezes my hand tight again.
“Good news, I hope?” Dad asks.
“Uh, it depends on which way you look at it,” I begin, then stall, my breaths becoming shallow. “I’m pregnant.”
I drop my head, refusing to look at anyone, and focus on the empty plate in front of me.
“Pregnant?” Millie chokes, her voice unsteady. “But you aren’t with anyone?”
My muscles tense, making it challenging to move. I’m unable to look Millie in the face, averting my gaze to Mom. As predicted, she draws her brows together with worry but remains silent, assuming she is trying to process this information.
Then, I quickly glance at Dad. He is staring blankly at the glass of wine in front of him.
“Congratulations,” Alexa blurts out, her tone upbeat. “I thought you looked different.”
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Addy watches with a sympathetic gaze, also keeping quiet.
“Who is the father?” Dad finally speaks in a low, controlled yet angered tone.
“Um, this guy. It was one night, but I’ve known him forever, so it’s not like he’s a stranger and…”
I cut myself off before I make this even worse.
Mom clears her throat. “This is a surprise, but nonetheless, you have our support. How far along are you, honey?”
This is it, the final moment.
The straw to break the camel’s back.
“Four months…” I murmur, only to fall into a digestive silence.
Slowly, I inch my gaze toward Millie. In a matter of seconds, her confused expression morphs into a look of contempt.
The damage is done.
And the raging storm is about to make landfall.
Twelve
Ava
Across the dinner table, Millie bares her teeth with an unrelenting stare.
The shade of her skin turns pink, yet despite the bright shade—her eyes are stone cold. Suddenly, the chair she sits on screeches across the floor from the force of her standing up. Crossing her arms, she stands in defiance.
“Four months?” she barks unapologetically. “So, what? Early January, late December?”
I lower my eyes to the table again. “Around there.”
“New Year’s Eve?”
