My mom has played Switzerland since I told her about our latest drama. Although it looks like Mitch has pretty much abandoned me—something I’m still trying to wrap my head around—she hasn’t said a bad word about him. I think she figured out that I’m the one who screwed up. I’m just relieved she hasn’t come right out and asked me. I don’t know, maybe she thinks what’s the point in dredging up something we can’t change.
Erin, on the other hand, cursed up a blue streak; Mitch being on the receiving end of that, of course. She gets why he’s angry but essentially accusing me of cheating went over the line as far as she’s concerned. I’m pretty sure there’s a story behind it—one she won’t talk about—but the whole paternity test thing is definitely one of her triggers.
Today makes it three weeks since the big blow up and I can’t take the waiting anymore. I can’t stand not knowing what he’s thinking. Are we truly over?
Which is why I’m here, standing nervously in front of his door. A queasy stomach doesn’t help my nerves any, but I managed to down six crackers this morning and a cup of hot chocolate. I pray my breakfast won’t make a reappearance.
My heart is hammering in my throat upon hearing footsteps and then the slight rattle of the knob before the door opens.
I’m rendered speechless at the sight of Mitch’s sister. We both stare at one another in surprise.
Diane’s hair is blonder than her brother’s, her eyes are a darker shade of green, but the siblings share a very strong resemblance. At five foot nine in her stocking feet, I still have to look up at her when I’m wearing my three-inch heels. In my flat leather flip-flops, it’s a far way up.
“Hi, Paige. I’m—I mean this is a surprise.”
Is it?
I wonder what Mitch has told her. Does she know about the baby?
“Hi,” I say weakly. “Is Mitch home?” His car isn’t parked in the driveway but sometimes he parks it in the three-car garage.
Diane’s brow lightly crinkles as she continues to stare at me, looking more confused than ever.
“Sweetie, Mitch went back to New York two weeks ago. I thought you knew,” she says, her tone full of sympathy.
Gone.
Mitch went back to New York.
“Oh. No, I didn’t know. I-I—we haven’t spoken in a couple weeks.” I sound dazed, not quite with it.
Diane reaches out to touch my arm. “Why don’t you come in and sit down?” she asks gently as if realizing what the news has done to me.
I shake my head. I don’t want to sit down. I just want to go home to my room and curl up on my bed until this whole thing is over.
“No, I’m fine. I didn’t think he was going back so soon,” I say in a pathetic attempt to save face.
She awkwardly withdraws her arm. “He told me you guys broke up. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but I want you to know that I’m always here if you want to talk.”
He told me you guys broke up.
Wow, I guess that answers my question. We’re done. I’m pregnant and he’s gone.
I force a smile that challenges my facial muscles. “Thanks, Diane, I appreciate the offer.”
By the expression on her face, I can tell she knows I’ll never take her up on it. You don’t break up with someone and keep in contact with their closest relative. And the baby—well if he didn’t see fit to tell her about it, I’m not going to.
“Are you sure you don’t—”
I’m shaking my head before she can finish. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for—for everything,” I mumble. With that, I turn and scamper down the stairs.
Once I’m in my car, my hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, it’s practically cutting off the blood flow to my fingers. I let out a ragged breath that comes out sounding closer to a sob.
I peek a glance up at Diane, who is still standing in the doorway. Worry creases her forehead, narrows her eyes and tightens her mouth. It’s the same way my mom’s been watching me lately when she doesn’t think I’m looking.
I go into automatic pilot and drive home. I won’t let myself cry. Not here. Not now.
By the time I park and hop out of the car, my stomach is lurching like crazy. I make a mad dash to the front door, fumble with the keys and unlock the door on the first try.
I’m just able to make it to the bathroom near the kitchen before my stomach gives up my breakfast.
* * *
Mitch
“You want to tell me what is going on, Mitch?”
My sister’s voice is sharp and reproachful. I knew I shouldn’t have picked up the phone. My gut tells me it has something to do with Paige.
“What’re you talking about?” I mutter, eyes closed and the stale taste of alcohol in my mouth. That and my pounding head remind me how I spent the previous night. Drinking until I could barely stand.
“Paige was just here…looking for you.”
My sister’s statement causes the pain in my head to explode, spreading to every other part of my body. I don’t want to think about Paige. Have been trying like hell not to think of her since I came back to New York.
I can’t trust her. She’s a liar. A manipulator. She’s as selfish as they come.
These are the things I have to remind myself constantly. I don’t want to remember the look on her face the last time I saw her. I’m not the one who should feel guilty. She should.
“She didn’t even know you’d gone back to New York,” Diane says when I don’t respond.
“We’re not going out anymore. She didn’t need to know.” God, it hurts to talk. I slowly pull myself up on my bed, my head protesting every inch of the way.
“Are you going to tell me what happened between you two?”
Despite the sixteen-year age gap between us, my sister and I have always been close. Everyone used to say that was because she’s the only one in the house who had the energy to keep up with me. She says it’s because she always wanted a younger brother. Unfortunately, sometimes that age difference makes her think she can treat me like the boy she used to carry around on her hip.
Swinging my legs to the floor, I inform her, “No, because it’s none of your business.”
There’s a moment of silence and then a long sigh. “Mitch, she looked—”
I close my eyes. “Stay out of it, Diane,” I growl. I don’t want to know how she looked. It’s been hard enough trying not to think about her. Hard enough to get the image of her out of my head.
“Look, I’ve gotta get going. I’ll talk to you later.” I don’t give her a chance to respond, I simply end the call.
I toss my cell onto the bed and clasp my head in my hands. It continues its relentless pounding. My throat closes up until it’s almost impossible to swallow.
I think about Paige. I think about the baby.
You don’t even know for sure it’s yours, the sane voice in my head cautions.
Yeah you do, asshole. The other voice is just there to fuck with me. I hate that voice. It knows shit about anything and if I listen to it, I’m doomed.
My cell vibrates beside me and my only thought is that it’s my sister calling back. And she’ll keep calling and calling until I answer. I snatch it up and blindly answer it. “Diane, I’m not in the mood.”
“Yeah, no shit. Sounds like you tied one over last night.”
My shoulders slump, losing some of their tension. It’s Josh.
“Your sister giving you a hard time?”
“When isn’t she?” I reply.
“So how’s it going?”
“It’s going.”
“Heard from Paige?”
“We’re done. Why would I hear from her?”
Josh lets out an audible breath as if he’s exasperated with me. Well he can join the club. “You’re seriously not going to get the test?”
“I already told you what she said to that.” Now he’s pissing me off.
“You know there’s a good chance the kid is yours, right?”
“Whatever.” The ba
by isn’t here. It’s not real, and I’m not going to let myself think about what’s going to happen down the road. I won’t. It’ll just drive me crazy.
Anyway, she’s the one who told me to go. And after what she did, she should damn well understand why I want a paternity test.
“Does your sister know?” Josh asks. He thinks I should have told Diane before I flew back to New York.
“No.”
“When are you planning on telling her?”
“If Paige wants to tell her, she can. I’m not saying anything to her until I know for sure it’s mine.”
There’s a long pause and I imagine Josh is rolling his eyes. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
“What’s your problem? You’re the one who first said the baby might not even be mine. Now you’re acting like you ran the damn test yourself and that the kid is mine.” He’s my best friend. Isn’t he supposed to be on my side?
“Yeah, but you’re not even going to have the test done. I thought you’d at least do that. What if the kid is yours?”
“You know what, let me deal with this my way, alright? The last time I took your advice, she kicked me out of her house,” I snap.
What is this, pile-on-the-guilt day for Mitch?
“Cool. You do that,” he replies curtly.
This time I turn my phone off when Josh hangs up on me.
Chapter Eight
Paige
I didn’t know four months could pass so slowly. A snail’s pace would be the apt term. I guess that’s how it feels when you’re pregnant. You watch the clock all the time.
It took me three months to stop expecting to hear from Mitch. School started back over a month ago so I’m sure he’s right back in the swing of things. It’s obvious he’s doesn’t care about me…or the baby.
I forcefully push those thoughts out of my mind as I drop my book bag at the front door, thankful it’s the tail end of a long day. Monday and Wednesdays are killers. I have four classes. The first class starts at 8:05 in the morning, and the last one isn’t over until after five.
It was weird going back to college pregnant, especially now that I’m showing. There’s no hiding it behind roomy blouses or thick sweaters. The bump is small but it’s prominent as I’m not a big girl to begin with. Although if you ask my mom and Erin, you can’t tell I’m pregnant from behind. Is that supposed to make me feel better?
Like most commuters, I haven’t made that many friends at the community college but the few I talk to and eat lunch with have been really supportive. Julie and Allison know all about Mitch. They only met him once and, reacting to him the way most girls do, declared him swoon-worthy. Julie teasingly told me I was one lucky bitch. Not so lucky now. We don’t talk about him anymore.
Tonight, my mom won’t be home until late. She has two showings and then she’s going out to dinner with Randy, which means I’m on my own for dinner. That’s okay. These days, I love having the house to myself a couple days a week.
I head to the kitchen and ponder what I’m going to do with the chicken I’d taken out this morning when the doorbell rings.
My stomach does that flippity-flop thing and my heart speeds up. Logically, I know it’s not him. It’s not. But I can’t help the way my body reacts to unexpected phone calls and doorbells. Or a car pulling into my driveway when both Mom and I are home. I hate the way it reacts.
I turn and trudge back to answer the door. It’s probably some guy selling Kirby vacuum cleaners.
No, it's not a sales guy nor is it Mitch, but it’s as close to my ex as it’s probably ever going to get.
“Diane.” Her name leaves my mouth on a puff of air.
But she’s not staring at me—at least not at my face. Her eyes are glued to my bump. If I look surprised to see her, she’s beyond shocked to see me in my condition.
Mitch never told her. That much she’s just confirmed.
Her eyes are enormous in her oval face when her gaze snaps to mine. “You-you’re pregnant,” she stammers. Poor thing. I feel sorry for her. It has to be hard finding out this way.
I step back and open the door farther. “Would you like to come in?”
Without replying, she enters the foyer, her gaze repeatedly darting from my face to my bump.
“Mitch didn’t say anything?”
Lips parted, she shakes her head. Clearly she’s in shock. “It’s his baby,” she finally utters.
I want to laugh. Mitch doubts me but his sister knows without having to ask. I staunch the deep well of hurt I’ve learned to bury.
She pushes back her shoulders and emits a heavy sigh. “I came to ask you if you knew what is going on with Mitch. His coach called last week to inform me that his grades are slipping and he’s been missing practice. If this continues, he’s going to have to drop him from the team. He wanted me to talk to him. I’ve tried but I can’t get anything out of him.” Again, her eyes go to my stomach. “Since this started after you guys broke up, I thought I could get some information from you. I thought maybe you could talk to him… But now I see what’s going on with him.”
The baby kicks just then. My hand instinctively goes to the place on my stomach.
Alarm flares in Diane’s eyes and I smile wanly. “It’s okay. She’s just practicing for the soccer game later tonight.”
“She? It’s a girl?” she asks and it’s almost painful to witness the yearning in her eyes.
I nod and continue to rub the spot where my baby is exercising her kicking leg. For a second, Diane looks dazed. It appears to take a bit of effort for her to wrench her gaze from my baby bump and back up to my face.
“I-I-I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” I assure her. I don’t expect her to congratulate me or pretend to be happy. This is her baby brother a year out of high school having a baby. I get that.
“I don’t understand. Why isn’t Mitch here? Why aren’t you two together anymore?”
Good question.
But what do I tell her? I mean I like Diane a lot but we’re not that close. I decide to keep it simple and be as honest as the circumstances warrant. “Mitch blames me for this.” I cradle my stomach protectively with both hands. “He thinks I got pregnant on purpose.”
I wait for Diane to ask the obvious question.
“He’s going to be a father. He doesn’t have a choice,” she says instead, her tone obstinate and firm.
“No. No,” I state adamantly. “I don’t want him here if he doesn’t want to be here. And he’s made it obvious that he doesn’t want to be a father to this baby. Honestly, I’ll be fine. My mom is going to help me so I’ll be fine.”
A look of hurt crosses Diane’s face. “This baby is m-my niece. She has cousins and an uncle who are going to want to be a part of her life even if Mitch doesn’t.”
I’m immediately hit by a pang of remorse at how thoughtless I must have sounded. “Diane, I didn’t mean that I don’t want you—”
“Paige, I will be here for you,” she says, and gently brushes my hair over my right shoulder. “I want to be part of my niece’s life. And I want to do whatever I can to help you. Babies aren’t cheap and at the very least, you’re going to need some financial assistance.”
My first instinct is to turn her down. My baby isn’t her problem. But then I think of my mom and how much having this baby is going to change her life. She shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of her daughter’s unplanned pregnancy alone.
It’s not as if this is Randy—who’s already offered to help out financially—this is the father’s family. And I didn’t make this baby by myself.
“Thank you,” I whisper, grateful for the offer.
Dropping her hand to her side, Diane smiles. We stand there awkwardly for another few moments.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you.” She moves her purse to her other shoulder.
I nod and give her a small smile and hope i
t somehow conveys the depth of my appreciation. I follow her back to the door. Before she leaves and I chicken out, I ask, “Are you going to tell Mitch you saw me? That you know?”
Of course she is. How could she not? But something in me can’t help but ask it anyway.
“He’s my brother, Paige,” Diane says softly, almost sadly.
“Right,” I respond with a hard nod.
She pauses. “When is the baby due?”
“December sixteenth.”
Her eyebrows go up and a genuine smile appears on her face. “A Christmas baby.”
I give a little laugh. “Yep.”
“Okay then, I’ll be in touch.”
We share a look, another smile and then she’s gone. After she pulls out of the driveway, I return her wave and close the door. I internally brace myself for what’s coming next.
And do you know what came next? What happened when Mitch’s sister confronted him about the baby?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Chapter Nine
Mitch
If things keep going the way they’ve been, you’re going to find yourself on academic probation.
I walk out of the meeting with that warning echoing in my head as I head to the locker room. I’m failing three of my five classes this semester and managing barely passing grades in the other two. But then that’s bound to happen when you hardly ever go to class.
Last year, the prospect of flunking out of school was inconceivable. This year, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should. Getting kicked off the football team, however, does. It’s literally the only thing I care about right now. If I lose football, I may as well drop out of college. What would be the point in staying?
And then where would I go? Home? These days my sister and I aren’t exactly seeing eye-to-eye.
Diane saw Paige at the beginning of September, which is when I got “the call”. She totally laid into me. She chided, cajoled, and then when that didn’t work, she finally exploded, berating me for over an hour. I’d been expecting “the speech” for a couple months so I was fully prepared for the guilt trip she was going to try to lay at my door.
The Trap (Prequel) Page 5