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I flop back. Shocked. Numb.
To be honest, I’m a little disappointed too.
Not because I necessarily wanted the kid to be Hansley’s, but I was already getting used to it.
Last week, I found some cute little baby booties and my first thought was purchasing them for Svena. It was almost natural and not weird at all.
Somewhere between Hansley’s patient love and service to me and my own confidence blooming, I started dreading the Svena-baby-mama issue less and less and started accepting it as a mistake that’s turning into something good.
“Out of respect for you, I wanted to let you know first rather than have a secret meeting with Hansley.” She pushes off from the table. “That's it.”
“Wait.” I reach for her when she starts to get up. "Is the real father going to take responsibility.”
“He doesn’t believe me.”
“Even with the paternity test?”
“He claims that I forged it.” She tenses. “But don’t worry. I’ve got it handled.”
There’s pride in her eyes and fear in her expression. She’s terrified, but she doesn’t trust me.
And I get it.
This is her life and she probably thinks that I hate her for bringing chaos into mine.
But that’s not true.
Even if the baby had been Hansley's, Svena didn’t make the kid by herself. It took two. She’s not the villain here. She’s just a young woman. Just like me. Someone trying to figure the world out.
“If he doesn’t step up, let me know.” I wink. “My good friend Elizabeth is married to the city’s best lawyer.”
Her lips curl up. “You still want to help me?”
“Why not?”
Svena observes me intently without saying anything.
One beat of silence passes.
Two.
“Is this how a woman with a good husband behaves? So confident and… self-assured?”
I smirk. “Call me anytime, Svena.”
She slips her hand out of mine and waves without making the promise. She probably won’t call. She’s far too stubborn. I make a note to check in with her later.
Wide awake now, I head back upstairs and climb into bed with my husband. Hansley’s waiting for me and he pulls me closer to him as soon as my back hits the mattress.
“What did your mom say?” He rests his chin on top of my head.
I inhale his dark, masculine scent. “It wasn’t my mom.” I tell him about Svena and his eyes open wide. “What are you thinking?” I prod.
“I don’t know.” He wraps his fingers around my waist. “I’m a little stunned. I was so sure it was mine.”
“Are you relieved?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He looks at me, his eyebrows crinkling. “Aren’t you?”
