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I too feel this supposed betrayal, deep and searing, in my bones. I don’t want to believe it, and yet, where is Oliver? Why hasn’t he spoken to me?
I pull my phone from my purse in case I’ve missed a call or text. There’s nothing from him.
He told me he hasn’t been with Dot in two years. The baby can’t be his…
But if so, why isn’t he here? Why haven’t I gotten a word from him since then? He had to figure I’d hear.
My question from last night taunts me. My gut told me it didn’t make sense. Two years is a heck of a long time. Still, Oliver wouldn’t lie to me. Was he ashamed to tell me they weren’t over? What if they were only on a—what do some couples call it—a break?
It would explain why they were still having sex.
Bile rushes up the back of my throat, and I clamp my hand over my lips to stop it from flying from my mouth.
The what-ifs run rampant in my head. Even if they were over, a couple of years is still a long time to be in close quarters. They used to be intimate. It isn’t hard to believe they still were, sometimes—that he may have slipped.
While I don’t like it, I get it. And he certainly didn’t do anything wrong. We weren’t together. But why would he lie about it? If they were sleeping together, this is a recent occurrence because Dot’s now pregnant.
“Say something.” Percy rattles me by the arms.
“I don’t know what to say. I need to talk to Oliver.”
“You haven’t heard from him?” Her incredulity only worsens the sickening feeling spreading through my body.
I shake my head and press my lips together, afraid a sob may leak out instead of words.
She narrows her eyes. “If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, there’s no way I’d believe Oliver could do something like this, especially to you.” She adds, in a small voice, as if to herself, “I thought he was a good guy.”
“Hey, don’t say that. We haven’t heard his side of things. Did Dot actually say it was his.” It’s hard to persuade her to reserve judgement when I’m struggling to do the same. And it makes it even harder since I haven’t heard from him.
“She didn’t say it wasn’t Oliver’s. You should’ve seen her. Basking in the well wishes from everyone in the restaurant. She sure was in her element.”
I close my eyes, trying to shut out the image though it’s futile. I can see it now. Dot hanging all over Oliver, rubbing her stomach and smiling. All of it burns my retinas.
Percy cuts through the sickening vision. “I hate to say this, but I told you so. Dot isn’t a nice person, no matter how hard she tries to make the town believe otherwise. Now with a baby on the way, and if she knows about you and Oliver, she’ll come after you.”
We stare at each other, and my mind reels with how right my sister is. I’m a threat to Dot, even if this baby news is the end of Oliver and me. I’m not so sure I can trust him if he lied. It’s bad enough that he was with Dorothy Malone for years. And if the baby is his, where do I fit in?
I hate even thinking that way. Oliver’s wanted to be a father for as long as I can remember. I won’t stand in his way. There’s no way he’d turn his back on his child; he’s a good man. He will want to do the right thing—give marriage and a family with Dot a shot.
That right there kills me. Oliver and I never stood a chance. How silly I was to think we could have a future together. Maybe the universe knew all along that we were never meant to be, no matter how we felt about each other.
God, this hurts.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip to stifle a whimper, and Percy takes my hand. “What are you going to do?”
Just then, Mrs. Ada Parker shuffles into the library with her cane. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
She’s all smiles as Percy swivels to face her. We both say hellos, and before I can ask how I may help, she lifts her cane at me. “Wren, did you get the baking book I asked for?”
As the only Parker left to run Beyond the Cake, the town bakery and her family-owned business, she works tirelessly to keep her dessert offerings fresh and unforgettable. Mrs. Parker is always in here, taking out the latest baking books or searching the Internet for the best desserts. I can hardly imagine where she gets the energy at her nearly seventy-five years of age.
“No, sorry, Mrs. Parker, it isn’t in yet.” I shove my trembling hands into my dress pockets and plaster a small smile onto my face. “I should have it early next week. The shipment was delayed.”
She harumphs and lumbers toward the row of computers. “All right, then. I’ll just be over here looking at the Googly whatchamacallit.”
Percy turns around to face me, her eyes somewhat twinkling with amusement. Mrs. Parker is cute. I always chuckle when she talks about computers and the Internet.
But right now, I find it hard to crack a smile. “Okay. Let me know if you need any help.”
