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“Charleigh, I’m tired,” I say on a breath, collapsing back into the oversized bed, my free arm flailing out to the side. “What’s the reason for this rant? I didn’t say anything to Dylan other than I thought she was a fantastic actress and thought she was crazy for giving up on something she is so clearly great at.”
“She didn’t tell you who the…the…father is?” Charleigh seemed to have a hard time spitting those words out, and it made me smile at the absurdness of it.
“Nope. Didn’t figure it was my business. I wasn’t asking to date her.” Although, it wouldn’t be a hardship, dating her. And with the number of times I’ve spent looking at her picture…
Yeah.
I wouldn’t mind dating her.
Kid on the way, or not.
I wasn’t afraid of babies.
Not really.
As long as the dad wasn’t a douche.
But, while I do feel those things, I also feel that Dylan is allowing herself to be a doormat for the industry by going about her pregnancy this way.
“Look, I know the girl has had a rough intro to the screen side of life. I get that her first movie hasn’t been exactly kind to her. But she’s gotta get over that. So, she chooses to not act anymore. Anytime someone spots her, she will always be that actress. She needs to grow a set and stand up for herself.”
“You have no fucking clue,” Charleigh mutters, and I’m starting to grow annoyed with it.
“Charleigh, we’re friends. Good friends, I thought. I don’t really know what’s going on with you right now but spit it out.” Dylan didn’t seem the type, but maybe she said something to Charleigh, expanded on something to her to make me out to be this terrible person. “If you’re accusing me of something, tell me what lies Dylan told you, and I’ll set you straight.”
I literally fed the woman.
Twice.
Not sure what laws I was breaking by doing that.
There’s a pause as Charleigh seems to collect herself. “She didn’t tell you anything?”
“No, Charleigh. She didn’t. She probably wouldn’t have even told me she was pregnant, but I caught her on the pier and the girl is clearly sporting a baby bump. What is she, like…two months? Three?”
Charleigh’s laugh sounds like it was expelled from her. Like she wasn’t intending to make the sound. “God, Cade, try seven. Almost eight, even.”
My forehead tightens as I frown, and I reach up to squeeze the bridge of my nose. “Not possible, Charleigh. She can hide her stomach with a sweatshirt.”
“She’s just blessed in the baby department, as my mother has told her.”
I sit up from the bed, fingers still squeezing my nose. “She has no belly. Well, she does. But I’ve worked with pregnant women.” Not too often, but often enough. “There is no way she’s popping out a kid in two months.”
“Well, if you didn’t say…” Charleigh goes quiet and I drop my hand beside me on the bed.
“What did Dylan do to make you hound my ass?”
Charleigh stays quiet.
When the A/C in the room kicks on, it’s almost deafening.
“Char.”
“I’ll send it to you.” And she hangs up.
Frowning, I pull the phone from my ear and watch the screen. It’s only twenty seconds, thirty tops, before a multimedia message comes through.
It’s a screenshot from an Instagram account.
