“Why don’t you take a few days to think about it,” my mother suggests. “Calm down first, and then make your decision…for everything. I’ll back you one hundred per cent, no matter what you want to do.” She gives me a grim smile. “And I’ll deal with your father, too.”
I wilt in relief. Dealing with my father, in all honesty, would be the worst thing about this. He’ll be so angry. While he won’t have any right to control my life, he’ll be too angry at my imagined transgression that he won’t listen to reason. He probably won’t even believe me when I try to tell him that I didn’t actually know who Lyle was.
Yes, I would much rather that my mother deal with him.
“I don’t want him to know just yet, though,” I say. “Please. He doesn’t need to know anything until I decide what to do about both Lyle and the baby.”
“Of course,” she agrees. “It’s entirely up to you, Amanda. Just tell me what you want to do.”
I pick up my tea and sip at it. The herbal brew slips down my throat soothingly, calming some of my nerves. I still have no idea what I’m going to do next, but I feel more in control, now, than I did when I first arrived here.
“You really think I should talk to Lyle?” I ask.
“I think so,” my mother says with a nod. “He can tell you why he kept his secrets and you can decide whether you want to continue seeing him or not. It’s entirely up to you.”
“Yeah,” I say.
Though I can’t imagine facing Lyle going very well. I would likely fold very quickly if I faced him.
I shake my head. No, I’ll remain strong. Lyle has done wrong by me, even if he didn’t do it for all the malicious reasons that keep running through my head. But I do deserve an answer about what he was thinking. While he may not have outright lied to me, knowing that he’s the boss of the company that my father is competing with and that I’m currently working toward an alliance with is definitely something he should have told me right at the beginning of our relationship.
“I just don’t get why he didn’t tell me,” I sigh. “Do you think he was afraid of what Dad would say?”
My mother stares at me. There’s an odd little smile on her face, as though she knows something that I don’t.
“I don’t think it was him being frightened off,” she says slowly. She shakes her head. “Just ask him about it, if you decide to talk to him.”
I glance at her suspiciously, but I know my mother well enough to know that I won’t get any more answers from her. She’s always locked down very tightly when she has something she wants to keep hidden, a remnant from being the wife of a very powerful businessman back in their youth.
“Fine,” I grumble. “I’ll see what he has to say. But his explanation had better be really fucking good.”
I put my cup down. My left hand settles unconsciously on my stomach. It’s hard to believe that a tiny life is currently growing within me. A life that Lyle and I created, however accidentally. My child. Ours. I gasp.
“I’m pregnant,”
It’s like it’s only just hit me. I’ve known, since the test came back positive, that I’m pregnant. But sitting here now, thinking about it…it’s suddenly very, very real.
“Yeah,” my mother says.
She scoots over to sit beside me on the couch, and wraps an arm around my shoulders. Her embrace is warm and steadying. Tears prick at my eyes once more at the feeling of it, and this time I don’t think it’s because of pregnancy hormones.
“We’ll get through this,” she promises. “I’ll help you through it. Even if you decide not to see Lyle anymore, I won’t leave you to go through this alone, alright?”
I’m crying again. I didn’t realize just how much I needed to actually hear that. The thought of going through this alone is terrifying, but I won’t have to do that. This thought steadies me.
I can face Lyle, I decide. I can hear what he has to say, and I can make my decision based on that. And if I decide to walk out, unsatisfied with what he says…
Then I’ll be strong enough to do that, too. Because I won’t be alone in this, no matter what.
Chapter Thirteen
Lyle
Four days have passed and I’ve heard absolutely nothing from Amanda.
At first, I thought she must be sicker than she wanted me to know, and that’s why she’s kept so quiet. At the end of the first day, I sent her a message wishing her goodnight and hoping, again, that she gets better soon. She never replied, but I just assumed that she was already asleep.
My concern started to rise the day after, when she still hadn’t replied and didn’t reply, either, to the message I sent that afternoon asking how she was feeling.