Page 71 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

She must see something in my face because she crosses her arms triumphantly.

I run my tongue over my top teeth. Samantha. The invented woman to take the place of Hannah in my stories. Fine, so I’ve lied. But this still isn’t about him. Or me.

“I don’t care how Tyler feels right now, to be frank. I am worried about your daughter, who has done everythingng for everyone else and is probably very scared right about now. I am not worried aboutTyler.I love Tyler, but this is not about him.”

“Of course this is about Hannah, but Tyler is your best friend. And he’s very protective of Hannah. You owe him your loyalty. You know he wouldn’t have approved of this.”

She isn’t backing down, but rather than convince me, it only ignites a deeper sense of protectiveness over Hannah’s experience.

I feel further and further from Tyler the more Mrs. Jackson brings him up.

“I did not betray Tyler. This isn’t the 1800s. Tyler doesn’t have any say over what Hannah does. I don’t have to askhispermissionor hisapproval. Hannah is perfectly capable of making her own adult decisions.”

I realize I’m using Hannah’s earlier diatribe, but hearing my own words thrown back at me really sheds a light on how ridiculous the sentiment actually is.

“Hannah is her own person, a wonderfully capable person, who I will honor by respecting whatever decision she makes or, if she lets me, that we make together about our future and the future of this baby. Who, I might remind you, we’re not even sure yet exists.”

Mrs. Jackson opens her mouth to respond, although from the look in her eyes I can tell the response won’t be ‘You’re 100% correct, Chris, and you did nothing wrong.’

Before she can lay into me, the bathroom door opens and Hannah stands in the doorway, her face pale, her lips like two rose petals in a snowy bank.

“Hannah? Are you okay, baby?” Mrs. Jackson asks, standing up quickly and moving toward Hannah.

“Mom,” she whispers.

“What? What? Tell us.”

I let Mrs. Jackson gather Hannah’s head into her hands and pet her hair. She might have been ripping into me just moments ago,but she is being the mother to her daughter, and it’s clear when the two of them are together.

I desperately want to reach out and hug Hannah, but I leave the moment to them. “It’s okay, Hannah,” I tell her from the couch.

Her face leans onto her mother’s shoulder, but her eyes focus on mine. “Best two out of three.”

She holds up the three pregnancy tests, all three with either two lines or the word ‘pregnant’ in all caps, like the baby is screaming itself into existence.

Chapter Thirty One

Hannah

I’m in a situation I never thought I’d find myself in.

I’m sitting in the backseat of Chris’ car while my mom rides in the passenger seat.

The silence is awkward and seems to sit on my chest. As awkward as it is, though, I knew that I was pregnant the second Chris mentioned the possibility.

Chris wants to take me to get a blood test or an ultrasound, depending on how far along I am.

I have a feeling I conceived the first time we had sex, which would put me right at seven weeks. I spend the silence in the car googling whether or not I can get an ultrasound at seven weeks.Some say yes, some say no. I give up and put my cell down, opting to close my eyes and lean back against the seat.

“How ya doing back there, baby girl?” my mom asks from the front seat.

She shoots her arm back behind her to grapple at my knee, a familiar mom move that makes me smile. I wonder if that’s an instinct that all mothers have, to reach for their children when they are hurting or upset.

“I’m fine, Mom,” I tell her, my eyes still closed.

“Are you sure? You can tell me how you really feel, you know.”

“I really don’t feel like anything. Didn’t you both tell me to wait to see a doctor before I panicked?”

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