Page 31 of Knocked Up in Alaska

Chapter Nine

“Thank you for letting me stay tonight.” Lilah settled back in the cushy upholstered chair in Bridget’s living room, put her bare feet up on the matching ottoman, and willed herself to relax.

“Stay as long as you like,” Bridget replied from the closest corner of the long, low sofa slung along the spacious, white wall. She looked thoroughly relaxed, Lilah thought enviously, wearing broken-in jeans and a lightweight black V-neck sweater. She had one bare foot resting on the knee of her other leg, left arm draped over the arm of the sofa, a half-full glass of wine dangling from her fingers. Lamp light turned the drink a clear, crystal red. “We’ve got plenty of room.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t take anything long-term from Bridget. Not with this guilty secret burning inside her. If Bridget knew her part in sending Shay to his death, she surely wouldn’t open her home. “I appreciate the offer, but you and Archer need—”

“Archer told me to tell you he’ll knit you an entire baby wardrobe if you move in.”

She mustered up a laugh despite the guilt weighing on her like an anchor. “I like Archer too much to do that to him.”

“Besides,” Izzy broke in from the other corner of the sofa, where she sat with her legs tucked up, snuggled in a fluffy pink sweater and white jeans, “she’s staying with us tomorrow, and Trace will convince her to take the guest room until further notice.”

This sparked a mock debate between the women about who would convince her to stay where.

Inwardly, she flinched from the back-and-forth between her friends. Outwardly, she sipped her lemonade, and though she hadn’t been any kind of drinker even before she’d gotten pregnant—her mother would not have approved—she suddenly wished for something stronger than sugar-fortified Vitamin C. Even without the guilt and regret she’d carry to her grave, there were other valid reasons to avoid staying with Bridget or Izzy. Once they took her in, she wasn’t sure she could get herself out again without leaving disappointment or hurt feelings behind.

The baby was half Shanahan, and both Bridget and Trace made no bones about their intentions to stand for Shay since he wasn’t there to stand for himself. She would gratefully accept their love for the baby, but she wasn’t their responsibility. Still, unless she was careful, she feared she’d end up an undeclared dependent in their lives. They had such an ace in the hole, though nobody had played it. Yet.

Wouldn’t it be best for the baby if you accepted…? Fill in that blank with so many, many things. Money? A safe and cost-free place to live? A job so flexible and unnecessary it hardly mattered if she showed up?

And maybe in some ways those things were best for the baby, especially since they were offered out of love and family connection. Arguments to the contrary didn’t easily form in her mind, other than to say, deep down, accepting so much from others—even dear friends—felt wrong. All she knew was she couldn’t allow herself to coast along on their generosity or sense of obligation. Her ingrained self-reliance demanded she stand on her own two feet. Or maybe it was pride. Or the guilt she felt for selfishly dumping the news of the baby on Shay without any consideration for the outcome. An outcome that had cost him his life. An outcome that, if her part in it was known, would change how Trace and Bridget felt about her.

Whatever the reason, she needed to show herself she could do it. Herself, yes, and others. She had things to prove. Her mother might never get over the shame and disappointment of her only daughter ending up pregnant and unwed, but seeing her end up a single parent subsisting off the Shanahan family would only compound the shame and disappointment.

Ford understood.

Heat rushed to her face at the thought of him. God, what a mess she’d made there. She’d snuck off early that morning before he’d woken up. Facing him had been out of the question, so she’d written a stilted thank-you note, left it on his kitchen island, and prayed he’d get hit in the head with a meteor before her shift at The Goose, just hard enough to erase his memory of last night.

As far as she knew, the meteor prayer went unanswered, but fate had taken some degree of pity on her. Ford had ended up calling Silent Mike in to manage the bar for the day while he’d taken some kind of last-minute trip to Juneau with Mad. He’d be back tomorrow afternoon, thus granting her a window of time to figure out how to face him.

Belatedly, she realized silence ruled the room. Pushing away mortifying memories of last night, she glanced over to the sofa where Izzy and Bridget stared at her.

“What?”

“You tell us what,” Bridget replied. “Where’d you go, and why did it put such a hot-and-bothered look on your face?”

Oh, dear. The heat and bother intensified under her friends’ questioning gazes. “Nowhere. I went nowhere.” She gulped lemonade, swallowed. “I think we established last night that I’m pretty much always hot and bothered these days.”

“Not this hot and bothered,” Bridget replied.

“It’s nothing.” She took another desperate chug of lemonade. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Seems like it’s something,” Izzy disagreed, but not unkindly. “Did something happen with Ford?”

She’d shared with them the basic details of her late-night exodus from The Castaway to Ford’s house, but the direct hit of a question startled her so much she almost spilled her drink. “W-what makes you ask?”

Izzy gave a delicate shrug. “You said you stayed with him last night.”

“Yeah, and then today, out of nowhere, he up and decides to hop on Mad’s run to Juneau,” Bridget added. “He never does that. Not during high season and for sure not on such a shitty day to fly. They were standing by for almost an hour before weather cleared enough for them to take off.” She paused, and then her eyes rounded. “Oh my God. You need something. He went to Juneau to get it.” On her feet now, she gestured at Lilah. “Something for you, or the baby. Medicine? A fetal heart rate monitor? What’s wrong? How can we help?”

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong.” She got up, stepped around the reclaimed wood coffee table, and put her hands on Bridget’s shoulders. “I’m fine. The baby’s fine. Ford went to Juneau to…well…” Her face caught fire again. “I can’t say for sure, but I suspect he went there to get away from me for a little while.”

“Why would he do that?” Izzy questioned in her quiet, logical lawyer voice.

“Because…because…” To her horror, she burst into tears.

“Oh my God,” Bridget said again and guided her to a seat on the middle cushion of the sofa.

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