Page 58 of Daddy's Dirty Little Secret

The drive to her place felt longer than it was. I kept both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead, chewing on everything I didn’t say to Laurence. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t ask how she was doing. I didn’t ask if she wanted music or if the heat was too high. I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth. If I said one thing, I’d say too much.

She stayed quiet beside me, folded in on herself. Her knees were drawn up slightly, her hands tangled in the hem of her sweater. Every so often she sniffed, soft and quick, like she was trying not to be heard.

The city blurred past. Lights turned gold against the windshield and flicked off the sides of parked cars. I hit every green light and still felt like we were crawling. When we finally pulled into her lot, I killed the engine and stepped out first, circling the car before she had time to unbuckle. She didn’t argue when I offered my hand. She just took it.

We walked to her door in silence.

She fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking. When the lock clicked and the door swung open, she stepped inside first. I followed her in, and the second it closed behind us, she turned.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and the words hit fast, like she’d been holding them back the entire drive. “I’m sorry about my dad, and for disappearing, and for quitting like that. I didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t know how to face you, especially not after?—”

She stopped and pressed her hand to her chest like she needed to hold herself together. Her eyes were red, lashes wet,but she wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. The room around us was dim. A lamp glowed in the corner, silhouetting her body.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” she said. “I didn’t even know I was?—”

I stepped forward before she could choke on the words. “Is it true?” I asked. “What Hayes told your father. About the baby.”

She bobbed her shoulder and then dropped her head. “It’s true.”

I stared at her, heart beating too fast again. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know at first. I thought I was just off because I was sick. I had bronchitis. The doctor put me on antibiotics, and I didn’t think—I was on the pill. I swear I was. I never would’ve done that to you on purpose.” Her voice broke. “I love you.”

I froze.

I hadn’t expected that at all. It landed harder than everything else I’d heard in the past few days.

I didn’t say anything right away. She just stood there after it came out—I love you—like it was supposed to fix something. I moved past her, too restless to stay still, and rubbed my hand along the back of my neck.

“You should’ve told me the second you knew,” I said.

She turned, still near the door. “I was going to.”

“But you didn’t.” My voice was sharper than I meant it to be, but I didn’t take it back.

She stepped toward me. “I didn’t want to screw things up.”

I gave a short laugh, no humor in it. “Too late for that.”

Her jaw tightened. “I didn’t choose this.”

“No, but you handled it without me. And now I’m just supposed to catch up, like the last two weeks didn’t happen?”

“I didn’t know what to say. I was scared.”

“Well, congratulations,” I said. “Now we’re both there.”

She took another step, not backing down. “You think this was easy for me? I was locked in a house with strangers, thinking I might die, knowing you didn’t even know I was gone. You think that’s something I planned?”

I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the weight of it all. The fear. The guilt. But I was still holding too much anger to drop it.

“Then why hide it?” I asked. “Why not give me a damn chance?”

Her voice dropped, not weaker, just tired. “Because you told me this wasn’t serious. You said no strings. I thought if I told you, it’d be over.”

I didn’t have a response to that. I turned and sat on the edge of her coffee table, bracing my elbows on my knees, head down. My skin felt too tight, like I couldn’t get enough air. I heard her shift her weight, then the soft scrape of a chair on the floor. When I looked up, she was sitting in front of me, close, watching my face.

“I didn’t do this on purpose,” she said. “I had bronchitis. The antibiotics must’ve?—”

---