2
JESSA
I see her shadow move across the window before she knocks. Chris jolts like someone just pounded on the door.
“It’s just Freya,” I tell him gently.
“Right.” He sighs, flustered. “I’ll get the door.”
He’s been quiet for the last twenty minutes. Too quiet. I watch as he walks to the door and opens it with a somber expression on his face.
“Hi,” he says. At least he doesn’t sound too annoyed.
“Is she okay?” Freya asks immediately.
“She’s in there,” he says, stepping to the side and avoiding the question. I wait for him to shut the door after Freya enters, but he just stands there in the threshold.
“Chris?” I ask, sitting up on the bed.
“I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he says. “Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?”
My stomach is feeling a little empty. And even though I have no appetite, I nod. I have to think about my baby.
“Some fruit if you can find any,” I say. “But really anything would be fine.”
He nods and slips out. I watch his shadow pass by the drawn curtains just like Freya’s did, and then he’s gone. Freya rushes to the bed and sits down in the same spot Chris just vacated. It’s a weird sort of crossing paths. For some reason, it makes me shiver. Like there’s a hidden meaning I’m missing.
“You look tired,” she remarks.
“Good to see you, too,” I laugh bitterly. But I’m not even offended. I am tired. I’m exhausted.
“I’ve never been one to beat around the bush. What happened?”
“He killed her, Freya,” I whisper.
“Oh God…” She covers her mouth. “His wife?”
I nod. “I didn’t want it to be true.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“I feel like such an idiot right now.”
“Don’t,” she says earnestly. “You fell for him.”
She’s staring at me, the lamp on the bedside table highlighting the unique color of her eyes. The mix of blue and brown, as though her genetics couldn’t quite decide. Today is the first time I’ve seen her look truly disheveled, the night we met notwithstanding. Her dark brown hair is tied back in a messy bun that lacks finesse and she’s only wearing a little, badly smeared lip gloss. She looks prettier for the lack of it.
Her hands are wrapped around mine so tightly it’s almost painful. But I’m grateful that she’s here. That she understands.
“You knew from the beginning, didn’t you?” I ask. “That I had feelings for him?”
“I’ve been where you are right now, Jessa,” she says with a sigh.
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
She raises her eyebrows. “What could I have said? You were gonna do what you were gonna do. And if I’d judged you, you’d have just cut me out of your life. I didn’t want that.”
It’s an honest answer, and it only makes me more grateful for her. “You’re speaking from experience, I take it.”