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Not this again. Didn’t she believe me last night? I grab on to her shoulders and turn her to face me. Staring intently into her troubled brown eyes, I infuse as much sincerity as possible into my next words. “I haven’t had sex with her in over two years. Not even so much as a kiss.” There’s no point in telling her that Dot tried to seduce me, wear me down, but never succeeded. “And my relationship with Dot was nothing even close to love. I never loved her.”
Dot isn’t who I want. Not then and certainly not now. If I thought it would help, I might tell Wren every sordid detail of the proverbial tug-of-war with my ex-girlfriend. But Wren’s already doubting me, and this is an agony I never knew existed. I’d never lie to her, and I hate that I have to somehow, some way figure out how to get her to believe me. To believe in us.
I bend my knees and dip my head so that I’m at her eye level. “I hate to even think it, but this is Dot we’re talking about. I wouldn’t put it past her to actually get pregnant or fake a miscarriage to wriggle out of this lie.”
Wren gasps and just as quickly nods. “God, both are horrible.”
“Yeah. One thing I know for certain is she’s lying about me. The baby isn’t mine.”
Wren’s shoulders sag a bit, relaxing into my hold, and I let out my pent-up breath. Hope is a capricious thing, a blessing and a curse. Here I am weighing my words in the hope that the next one out of my mouth will erase all of Wren’s questions and vanquish her doubt.
But does it really matter what I say? I can’t control Dot or the lies she’ll spin. This pregnancy lie could cost me Wren. And what if she gets her father to change the town name or succeeds in taking the Nest out from under me? Then what?
Wren looks up at me, expression not fully convinced, and my gut twists. “If she isn’t pregnant, we have to believe the truth will come out.”
I nod and chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to think like Dot. It’s a scary thing and futile because I never did understand her or why she does the things she does when they only lead to mayhem and eventual hurt.
While the truth might come out, the downside is that could take a while, and I worry I’ll run out of time. What if Wren gets too frustrated or disheartened or worse, drowns in too many doubts about me? She could walk away.
God, no.
I’m not sure what else to say to convince her. The silence drags between us, and Wren is deep in thought when suddenly, she points at me. “Unless…”
“What?”
“Unless sheispregnant and the baby isn’t yours. But of course, she’d want everyone to think you’re the father. You two haven’t officially broken up, and if she were pregnant with another man’s baby, people would think she cheated on you.”
“But that could easily be fixed. All she’d have to say is that we’ve been apart for some time now. I would back her up.”
“Oliver, you could make all of this go away. You could tell the town that you and Dot haven’t been together for a while now and this baby, if it exists, can’t possibly be yours.” Her stating what appears to be the obvious solution is a knee to the groin.
How do I begin to explain all that’s at risk if I challenge Dot publicly? It’s bad enough that my own brother thinks losing our legacy—the town name—and disappointing my dead father aren’t reasons enough to stay quiet and push Dot to come clean.
Wren isn’t finished and curls a hand around the railing, knuckles whitening as she clenches the wood. “I understand that you thought if you let Dot tell people about your breakup, things would go smoother. Clearly they haven’t.” Her frustration isn’t lost on me, and my heart caves in on itself. “She’s now telling people you’re expecting a baby. And you seem to be okay with this.”
“Shit, Wren. I swear to you, I’m not okay with any of this.” I feel heat spreading from my chest, rising up to my face. “Dot’s got me at gunpoint.”
“What? I don't understand.”
“I didn’t tell you everything last night.” I scratch at the back of my neck, suddenly uncomfortable in my own skin. “Not because I didn’t want to. Only because I didn't want to ruin our night with how much trouble Dot is causing.”
“Okay. I’m listening.” Her wary gaze makes my stomach roil as I tell her about Mayor Malone’s off-the-cuff remark about changing the town’s name.
“Only days before we found ourselves together in the gym, I pushed Dot harder than I ever have before for ownership of the Nest and to tell everyone about our breakup. She lashed out and hinted at getting her father to follow through on changing the town name.” My jaw clenches at the memory and Wren’s lips part in surprise. “That’s why I was leaving town so Dot would lose any hold over me.”
“But, Oliver, can he do that? Change the town name just because?”
“Sure. The mayor is a persuasive man. It wouldn't take much for him to play to the egos of those with the power to make it happen. I’ve seen him do it before. I have to tread carefully with Dot because her threats aren’t idle.”
“I can’t imagine how you’d feel if that were to happen. For Winslow Grove to no longer exist. It wouldn’t be the same even if the town remains—all that your family did, the history and pride…” Her troubled gaze searches mine, maybe looking for confirmation, and I grimly nod. “That would be horrible for you and for Eddie.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t live with myself if that happened because of me. Not when I can prevent it.”
“So how do we deal with this so that Dot can't hold that over your head?”
Her use of the word “we” causes a wild fluttering of hope to spread throughout me, albeit fleeting. It doesn’t last when I don’t have an easy answer and there’s still more to tell her.
“I don't know. I’m trying to figure that out. But Wren, there’s more.”
