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I hear my door open, but I don’t check who it is. There’s only one person who barges in and out of my house. Ella has practically lived here since I moved in anyway. Anthony sometimes has to bundle her up to get her out of my apartment.
"Hey, traitor," she says, flipping her hair and sashaying into the kitchen. She’s been calling me that ever since I started looking for another job, even one out of the country. I know she means it as a joke, but sometimes the name gets to me because I think, did Jeremy tell her? Does she know? Is this the moment where our longtime friendship ends?
Besides, I am a traitor, even though she doesn’t know that.
"Were you able to pick up those pictures from my last event?" she asks from the living room.
"Well, hello to you, too. Yes, I got them. They’re in my purse, on the chair by the door."
Too late, I remember what else is in my purse. Oh my god. My prenatal vitamins and the appointment card I got at the doctor’s office, the one with the cute little baby footprints in the corner. Panic sets in as I dash to the living room in time to see Ella with the card in one hand. The vitamins in the other.
There is no escaping this.
I thought I could leave town quietly without anyone finding out about this. She stares silently at me. She looks like she is having a panic attack. What if she finds out who the father of my child is? What if she casually mentions to her dad that his former assistant is pregnant? What will he do?
"Ella, I can explain."
"You’re pregnant," she says quietly, looking perplexed. "When were you going to tell me? Or were you ever going to tell me?"
"Ella…" My throat feels dry.
"No, I guess you weren’t. Is this why you are so serious about leaving? You’re running off to have a baby, and you didn’t eventrust me enough to tell me. Are you really my friend? Do you even see me as your friend?"
"Ella, I didn’t know how to tell you! I swear, I was going to, though."
"When? After the baby was born?"
God, I don’t know how to deal with this. I have to get out of here. I need to leave this hell.
"How far along are you?" Ella asks, her tone still sounding awfully accusing.
"Seven weeks," I mutter, too afraid for our fragile friendship to lie.
"That means… it wasn’t from your one-night stand. So, there was someone else? Oh god, is it Tyler’s? Is that why you broke up?" she asks, pressing her hands to her mouth.
"No, it’s not his. We never even…" I let the rest of my sentence just hang in the air unspoken.
"Then there was somebody else, someone you haven’t told me about. Chloe, how many secrets have you been keeping from me?"
You have no idea, I thought miserably. Her tone is so hurt, so astonishingly wounded, that I am just riddled with guilt.
"Look, I know your life isn’t mine. I feel a certain way, maybe because I tell you everything, but I get it–you don’t tell me anything about your life and you don’t have to. That’s your choice, but then this…" Her demeanor goes from shock to betrayal to hurt. I move closer to her, wanting to hug her but unsure of how she’d respond.
"I’m sorry, Ella. I didn’t mean to keep this from you. This wasn’t part of my plan. I didn’t come to New York to have a child and I’m still struggling to accept it. I feel my life is upside down, and I need to fix it. I’m not proud of myself right now. I just didn’t want to drag you down with me and make my problems your problems. You have to know how much you matter to me. Ihaven’t been the best friend to you lately, that’s so true… but you told me I was like a sister to you, and that is true for me too!"
Her eyes soften, but she is still mad at me. "Ella, I’m sorry. I don’t even know if I can do this. I didn’t mean for it to happen and you shouldn’t have to be burdened with it, too."
I didn’t mean to get pregnant by your dad or fall in love with him, I add silently.You have to believe me.
"It's fine, I understand. I think. But you didn’t have to hide it from me. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there for you. If you’re not ready to do this, I’ll hold your hand. If you decide you want to keep it, I’ll be damned sure to be the godmother of the kid!" She smiles at me, but I can’t bring myself to smile back because of the guilt and fear that are eating at me.
"So, who is the father?"
I give her an apologetic look. "I’m sorry. I’d rather not talk about it."
She nods in understanding without prodding me further, which only makes me feel like even more of a monster for what I’ve done to her.
14
