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I rub my hands over my face. We’re going to have a baby. An actual life that we will be responsible for. We need to make decisions now that will be affecting its entire life. Of all the worries that should be going through her head … it’s that she’s going to look like a whale? I just stare at her, incredulous.

“Let me treat you to lunch, and we can talk about it,” I say. “What do whale like to eat anyway?”

She smiles a little. A good sign.

“I don’t know what whales eat, but I’ve been craving a bacon double cheeseburger,” she says.

“Lucky for you, I know a place.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re in Portland, walking the Western Prom, overlooking the bluffs and the stately 19th century homes that overlook the harbor. It’s easily the warmest day we’ve had all year. Neither of us have work until later today, the baby’s looking good, and despite Stassi’s anxiety earlier, she’s radiant now. Practically glowing. The only thing that would make this day even better would be sweeping her into my arms and stealing a kiss.

I have half a mind to ask her what she’s thinking about, if she remembers this area and how her parents used to bring us here with our bicycles to let us ride around. I used to do wheelies and all kinds of stupid shit in order to impress her.

It never worked.

As we stroll closer to the burger joint, she says, suddenly, “Why didn’t you take me to homecoming?”

My leisurely pace falters. That was unexpected. “What?”

“You know. You asked me. Via text. I know it was you.”

I look out toward the Cape Elizabeth lighthouse in the distance, which happens to be away from her, so she won’t see the lie on my face. “I don’t know what you’re—”

All these years, I was certain she never knew it was me.

And while I always wanted to come clean, I figured it was pointless to hurt her all over again, convincing myself that what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

“Don’t lie to me, Alec. Please. We’re going to have a baby together. And I know you. I knew that was you, just like I knew you were Yours Cruelly. Both messages stopped at the same time. I’m not an idiot.”

I’m silent as I attempt to think of an explanation that makes me look less spineless. But this is Stassi. She’ll see through it all. The only thing that makes sense is the truth and even then, what if she doesn’t believe me? Because no one ever believed me.

“Rob Conrad,” I say. “He asked you to the dance, yeah?”

She squints. “Yeah …”

“And you told him no because you already agreed to go with someone else.” I wince. “Me.”

“Yeah …” She frowns, like she’s not sure where this is going.

“I overheard Rob talking to some of the guys on the football team about you.”

She folds her arms, listening.

“He was saying his cousin in Portland was going to give him some … some drug … something to make you sleepy …” I hate to elaborate because the sheer thought of what could’ve happened makes me sick to my stomach. “He was going to rape you, Stassi. And he was going to let his friends …”

She clamps a hand over her mouth, her eyes watering.

“I never wanted to stand you up. Believe me.” I close the distance between us, though I don’t reach for her despite wanting to. “I had to make sure you were already committed to someone else so his little plan would fall through. I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

“Why couldn’t you have told me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

She’s silent, her ocean blues pointing at the concrete sidewalk for a moment. “No. Probably not.

“The week before homecoming, Rob got caught with drugs in his locker—do you remember that?" I ask.

She frowns. "Vaguely."

"I planted them there. And I sent an anonymous tip to the school resource officer.”

Her expression softens, but only slightly. “He got expelled after that. They made him go to that other school across town, where they send all the kids with juvenile records.”

“Exactly. I didn’t want him doing to anyone else what he’d planned on doing to you.”

A few paces ahead is a park bench. Stassi takes a seat, exhaling through her fingers.

“I hated that you thought you got stood up,” I tell her, sitting beside her.

“I did get stood up.”

“You know what I mean,” I say.

“You stood there taking pictures in our front yard with Carlina. You stood there smiling while I was in my dress, waiting for someone who was never going to show up. You could’ve at least texted me and told me you weren’t coming.”

“I couldn’t risk you calling up Rob and going with him. Even if he was expelled, he still could’ve tried showing up anyway—or he’d have met up with you at a party afterwards. I didn’t want to chance any of that.”

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