Page 117 of Jilted

“But… I thought that baby was mine for nine months. I talkedto him. We had names picked out. I might not have been in love with Whitney, but I fell in love with our baby. It threw a big wrench in my life that I hadn’t been expecting, but Whitney and I moved in together, and I accepted that I wasn’t going to play for a UK rugby team, like I’d always dreamed. I needed to be around to help raise my child. Two weeks before the baby was due, my mom died. I flew to England alone for the wake. Whitney was too far along to travel. And when I came home earlier than expected, I walked in on her and another guy. I’d been nothing more than their mark from the beginning. Whitney wasn’t ever a student at Harvard. She’d never been to college. Her father wasn’t sick, and she was twenty-nine years old, not nineteen. She also already had two children with the guy I caught her with. Both kids were bringing in child support from guys like me who had no clue they were being scammed. Whitney and her partner did their homework, found young, stupid guys with deep pockets, and made up relatable stories to help create a bond. A year or so after each kid was born, Whitney broke things off with the current schmuck, but the child support would keep coming for eighteen years.”

“Oh my God. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“I never even saw the kid who was born a few weeks later. And I thought I was long past all that, but I… I got scared.” Wilder looked down in silence for a long time. When he met my eyes again, tears streamed down his face. “I never doubted that you were carrying my baby, I swear. I just… I know this might sound stupid, but I loved that little boy. And it felt like I lost him after. Maybe it was because I’d just lost my mom and the lines were blurred, but it hurt just the same. I lost three people I loved—my high school sweetheart, my mom, and my baby. Whitney was the last real relationship I had, and it wasn’t real at all. I’m so afraid I’m going to lose you or fuck something up with you. And my dad is on his fourth wife, and I was just… a fucking chickenshit. I’m so sorry, Sloane. I acted like a coward when you deserved so much more.”

I pulled Wilder into my arms. “It’s okay. Please don’t cry. You’re here now.”

We held each other for a long time. Eventually, he stepped back.“I know this is going to be hard for you to believe because of the way I’ve acted, but I’m happy you’re pregnant.”

Hope bloomed in my chest. I wanted to believe him, but he was right. A part of me was also afraid. “Happy? Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I need to show you something.”

“Okay…”

Wilder went to the kitchen and unzipped one of the duffle bags. He pulled something out—bunches of white fabric. At first I thought it was a christening outfit, maybe his own from when he was a baby? But too much material spilled out of the bag. He shook it out, holding it up as he returned to the living room.

My jaw dropped. “Is that…?”

He nodded. “The dress you loved at the shop the day we sold your old wedding dress. I went back after I dropped you off and bought it.”

“But… we weren’t even dating yet.”

“Do you remember what you said when I suggested you buy it?”

“No?”

“You said you loved it, but you weren’t buying a dress for a fantasy that didn’t exist.” Wilder looked me in the eyes. “So I bought it. Because since the day I met you, you’ve mademebelieve the fantasy exists. And I wanted to give this to you, if I was lucky enough to ever make you mine.”

“Oh my God.” I jumped into his arms. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Wilder stroked my hair. “I’m so sorry, Cupcake. If you give me another chance, I promise not to let you down.”

My answer was to crush my lips against his. This wasn’t the fantasy I’d dreamed of, but maybe my reality was better than anything I could ever imagine. We stayed in the living room a long time, kissing and sayingI love youover and over. The two of us must’ve looked like loons—tear-streaked cheeks, dark circles under our puffy eyes, and yet the biggest smiles spread across our faces.

“I almost forgot. I brought you something else.”

“What?”

Wilder set me on my feet and lifted the second duffle bag to the coffee table. “Go ahead. You unzip this one.”

I pulled the zipper back and was surprised to find… books. There had to be twenty inside. “What are all these?” I slipped out a few and read the titles aloud.“It’s Not You, It’s the Pregnancy; The Self-Love Workbook for First-Time Mums; There’s No Right Way to Raise a Child; Your Pregnant Brain.”

Wilder smiled when I paused. “I figured you would need a new crop of self-help books.”

“I thought you said my self-help books were dumb.”

“That was before I found this one…” He riffled around inside the duffle. “Here we go. This is the one that changed my mind.”

He turned the cover to face me.Forty New Positions for Forty Weeks of Pregnancy: The Couple’s Guide to Orgasming Through Full Term.

I laughed. “Figures that’s what it would take.”

Wilder tossed the book on the table and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I missed a few weeks. We’ll have to play catch-up.”

33SLOANE

A rude streak of sunlight cut across my face, waking me the next morning. The first thing that popped into my head was the memory of Wilder in my kitchen, holding the wedding dress he’d bought. I smiled as I turned to say good morning, but the spot next to me on the bed was empty, and the sheet was cold. So I wrapped the blanket around myself and went searching for Wilder. I found him at the kitchen table, shirtless with a cup of coffee, nose buried in a book.

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