7
JESSA
Freya’s sudden appearance startles me. I press a hand to my heart and chuckle. “Hey. I didn’t even hear you come out.”
She smiles, but something about it seems off. Why do her eyes look secretive all of a sudden? Why are her hands fisted so tight I can see the white of her knuckles?
“Is something wrong?” Freya asks.
I take a step back without even realizing it. Good question—is something wrong? Chris says yes.
But Freya has been there for me. She’s opened up her home to me. She’s shared her innermost trauma with me. Was all that a lie?
I open my mouth to respond, and in those two seconds worth of hesitation, I make a decision.
I’ve trusted people before and look where that got me. I’ll listen to Chris this time, because I’ve ignored him twice now, and both times cost me dearly.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing myself to smile. “It’s just nausea. You know how that goes.”
“I know,” she says with a solemn nod. “Maybe you should sit down.”
There’s a bench only a few feet away from me calling my name, but I shake my head. “Actually, I was thinking of going for a drive. Maybe I’ll go explore the city.”
“The city is like two hours away,” she says. “We can head into town if you want, but it’s not very exciting.”
“There’s no need for you to come with me. I don’t mind doing some window shopping on my own.”
“Nonsense. I love window shopping.”
“But you don’t need to window shop,” I say. “You can actually shop.”
“I may look like a rich girl, but that doesn’t mean I am one,” she says rather defensively. “My parents are the ones with the keys to the kingdom.”
“Maybe you should try to mend fences while you’re here? If you wanted to go into London to talk to them, I would understand.”
She frowns. “You trying to get rid of me or something, Jessa?”
Keep things casual, I think. Stay calm. Be normal.
I titter like she just told a joke, but her blue-brown eyes bore into mine. So deep and intense that I start to feel unsteady and I stumble in place.
“Geez, sorry,” I say, trying to regain control of the moment. “I just feel a little… weird.”
“Weird how?” she asks.
“I don’t know. A little dizzy.”
Freya moves forward and takes my arm. I almost give myself away by flinching, but I succeed in holding it in. I let her drag me over to the bench.
“Sit down,” she says in a stern tone. “I don’t want you falling and hurting that baby.”
She sounds sincere. Like she’s genuinely concerned for me and the baby. Again, I have to fight competing emotions of self-preservation and guilt.
What if Chris is wrong about her and she’s exactly who she says she is?
As much as I love and trust Chris, I still cling to the hope that he’s wrong. Because the thought that I could have fallen prey to another pretty face and some charm is almost too much to bear.
“Feel better?” she asks.