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And now she sees her best friend falling into something that might break her heart, so she has every right to demand answers.
“He never cheated,” I tell her, rather than launching into what did happen.
She stares at me over the high-top table and rolls her eyes.
“No kidding, Julie.” She sighs.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, for one thing, he adored you.”
Her words sting. Once upon a time, I thought he did. And then, it felt like I—like my son and I—meant nothing to him. And now, I’m back feeling like I might be special to him. It’s a heady feeling, but I’m scared, too.
“Besides,” she sips her caffeine-free soda and continues, “You guys loved each other. If he would have cheated, you would have forgiven him.”
“You think so?” That surprises me. I’m not sure I would have.
“I do.” She nods. “So, whatever happened was bigger. Worse.”
“Yeah.” I bite my lip, dreading this conversation.
“He didn’t want Ryle.” She says it point blank and then tacks on, “Did he?”
I hate this. I hate what it does to me, but even more, I hate how it paints Truman. He hurt me, yes. But if I had been different then, if my own father had treated me better—if my own father had loved me—maybe I would have reacted differently to Truman’s fear of responsibility. Maybe I’m as much to blame for the way things happened as he is.
“No.”
“He wanted you to have an abortion.”
I nod. “How long have you known that?”
“Since I held your hand when Ryle was born.”
My eyes blur with tears.
“You never told me,” Dani says softly, “which told me something else.”
“What?” I reach for my margarita, wishing for something stronger.
“You were protecting him,” she says simply. “From anyone who cared about you. You didn’t want anyone to hate him.”
“Dani—”
“Because you were still in love with him.”
I take another gulp of my drink and stare at her in silence. Of course, she figured things out years ago and stayed quiet. Because she’s my best friend, and she knew I loved him. She never sided with him, but she never went on the attack, either.
“Am I stupid?”
“Stupid? No.” She pats my hand on the tabletop and offers me a little smile. “But is it time to end this? For you and Ryle and Truman to be a family? Yes.”
“You think we should be a family?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “I do. You should be living under the same roof. You should be sleeping in his arms every night. And you should be raising that kid together. Not only does Ryle deserve that, Julie, you and Truman do, too.”
Most girls probably talk to their mothers about things like this. I talk to my mom about buying new curtains or needing a new dishwasher. She wouldn’t have understood the hurt I felt when Truman suggested terminating the pregnancy.
It means something that Dani believes in me and Truman.
