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Fritz studies me, then shuts the door on my face. I hear some muffled sounds, and he comes back.
“You can’t shout around Addy,” he says.
“I won’t—”
“You did earlier,” Fritz interrupts.
My teeth grind together. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I say.
Fritz’s eyes narrow, but he makes no move to open the door any wider.
“Why is she in your apartment, Fritz?”
“She had nowhere to go—her place is swarmed with reporters. She doesn’t want to go there right now.”
Fuck. Of course she wouldn’t want to be there right now. I should have thought of that, but I’m not thinking straight. “Right,” I say. Then I call out over Fritz’s head. “Sofia, I’m calm now. Please come back upstairs. Both of you.”
Her delicate hand opens the door wider. She’s been right next to him the entire time. My stomach lurches, thinking that she sought refuge with Fritz instead of me. But what else was she going to do? I kicked her out, didn’t I?
“I don’t have a sitter, Bren. We can talk again when I can have someone pick Addy up.”
I blink at her then look down at the baby in her arms. “You don’t need a sitter. Please come up.”
Sofia chews her bottom lip then looks between Fritz and me, and I hate that she thinks of him as an option for safety and comfort right now. “You won’t yell again?” she asks.
I shake my head sadly. “I won’t yell.”
“I won’t have shouting around Addy. Do you hear me? One more outburst from you and that’s it. We are gone for good.”
“I promise I won’t shout. Now please. Come upstairs with me.”
* * *
We stretcha blanket in front of the TV, and Audrey entertains herself with some cartoon about a pig family of some sort.
I make good on my promise and keep calm while we talk for the rest of the evening.
“Sofia, the things I said earlier—”
“You were upset. I get it.”
“Still, I owe you an apology for what I said, and especially for how I said it. Yes, I was hurting, but that doesn’t give me the right to speak to you like that, and I’m so incredibly sorry.”
“Thank you.”
I take her hand in mine, feeling soothed by their presence now. I don’t understand how I can be so angry one minute and yet feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
“Bren?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you need a paternity test?”
I try to smile at her, but it’s forced. “I’m sorry, Sofia. It didn’t come out right earlier, but yeah. If you would be willing, I need to know. I wish I didn’t need to know, but even if that were the case, Finn has a right to know if she’s his. He’d want to know.”
She smiles sadly, and I know I hurt her with this one request. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be. You have every right to be sure. And you’re right about Finn too.”
