Page 72 of Against All Odds

I was finally starting to feel more like myself. Everett and I were having fun, and there wasn’t anything I had to worry about other than just the next time we’d be together.

I wish I could undo every decision I made. I should’ve stayed in California, not come back and seen him. Sure, it would’ve been awful, my life would still be in this mess, but at least I wouldn’t have another layer to take care of. I wouldn’t know what it feels like to be absolutely adored, worshipped, and cared for.

Now I need to give that up and get my shit together.

Not that I have a clue what that looks like, because it all feels so uncertain.

I take a deep breath.One thing at a time, Violet.

I text Analeigh first, letting her know I’m going home to rest and I’ll talk to her later.

My best friend is amazing and I love her, but right now I can’t handle her reaction. She was good dealing with the cheating because she could be a maniac, but this ... no, I need sane and rational.

Then I reply to the reason I’ve started to smile again.

I’m okay. Do you think we could have dinner or I can just come over later?

Everett

Sure, I have practice with the boys so do you want to come around eight? I know that’s a late dinner.

I’d like to put this off for as long as I possibly can, but I want Everett to know, and I unfortunately need to tell Dylan. God knows that’s going to go over like a lead balloon.

I stare at my phone, my nausea not because of the newfound pregnancy this time. It’s all nerves from having to talk to Dylan.

My lawyer suggested that we pause the divorce finalization. She was almost giddy at the idea that we could finally get some real compensation. She also thinks paternity needs to be established, so she suggested maybe even holding the divorce off for a year and keeping the information from Dylan.

I can’t do that. I wasn’t with anyone else until a few days ago. I don’t need to wait to be sure.

Not only that, but that’s what his mother did. Dylan didn’t meet his father until he was eight, because she was angry at him. In the end it hurt him, and his father had to battle to get visitation. So when we’d talk about our fictional children, their names, who they might look like, he would always talk about how he wanted to be there through it all.

How he wouldn’t be like his father.

Gail reiterated that talking through the lawyers would be better, but I can’t. I may hate him in so many ways, but I can’t rob him of this, and he deserves to know the truth.

Before, when I thought about telling him we were going to have a baby, I had plans to wrap up a onesie and that we’d be so happy.

Everything was a dream.

This is a nightmare.

I’m going to bring a child into this world in the middle of a divorce because their father is a cheating asshole who is now engaged to his mistress.

Great.

But no matter how I feel about this situation, it’s the reality I’m choosing, and I need to face it.

I exhale deeply and press the number on my phone to call him.

It rings, and rings, each one causing my anxiety to spike higher and higher. Finally, right when I’m about to hang up, he answers.

“Violet.”

“Hi, Dylan.”

“What do you want?”

He isn’t making this easy with his attitude. “Believe me, I wish this was a phone call I wasn’t making, and it’s actually against the expressed wishes of my lawyer, but I thought you deserved the right to know.”

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