There was a boat in the center of the living room. No water to speak of.
Upstairs, Sadie was howling. The baby that was Jared’s was screaming ever louder in competition with the dog.
And I was bent over with my head between my knees.
“I’ll get you some water,” Jared said and fled.
Typical man. Create a mess and disappear.
He’d hooked up with some random woman—I assumed she was random, but maybe she wasn’t. Maybe I’d served her at the diner. For all I knew, I could’ve seen her walking around with a belly full of Jared’s baby.
What was left from the hurried dinner I’d had of soup and crackers at the diner threatened
to bolt back up my throat. I coughed and cupped my mouth, shaking my head frantically when he held out a brimming glass of iced water as promised.
Watching me, he drank it down in one long gulp himself.
I was getting a headache from the literal cacophony of sound. That was not the usual here. Jared’s place on the lake was typically a respite from the hustle and bustle of the Cove.
When I could take no more, I stood up, put two fingers in my mouth, and whistled. I didn’t know if it’d work on these two females, but it used to work on the kids in Little League when I helped coach softball.
Dog and child instantly quieted.
“Wow,” Jared said, clearly awed.
I took that blessed moment of silence to look down at the baby. And shocked myself by starting to laugh.
Hard.
“You stuck her in a pillowcase?”
“I didn’t have anything small. She spit up on the blanket in the basket so I threw it out.”
“We have these new inventions called washing machines,” I reminded him, crouching near the boat despite my inclination to run away.
Like literally go right out the front door and never come back until I could rewind this night and pretend it had never happened.
Jared hadn’t gotten someone pregnant. Hadn’t made this tiny squalling girl with feathery dark lashes and apple cheeks with twin dots of red and a little nose that turned up slightly at the end. Her lips were puckered and moving as if she wanted something. Probably the bottle on its side in the boat.
Swallowing deeply, I grabbed it and lifted it to her mouth. She latched on immediately, her small hands grasping for it instinctively. I brushed her downy dark hair back from her forehead, and she kept sucking, watching me with her owl-like blue eyes.
Like his. They just had to be his eyes.
I hated myself for it, but I had to move. To pace off some of the ridiculous anger and sense of futility inside me. So many feelings were churning around in my belly with nowhere to go.
His baby was beautiful.
Of course she was. How could she have been anything else?
I went into the large kitchen I’d spent so many hours in, laughing while we made meals that were half flops and half successes. We liked to watch cooking competitions and try some of the stuff we saw, even though neither of us was particularly gifted in that way.
Didn’t matter. We’d had fun.
I went to the big farmhouse-style sink with the double basins and turned on the cold water. I let it flow over my hands and wrists until they were nearly numb and then splashed my face.
“I’m sorry,” he said miserably from the doorway.
It was a small comfort he felt bad. For what, exactly? Because he’d somehow had an affair with someone in the past year without needing to mention it to his best friend? So much for that. How could you sleep with someone and not tell your bestie?