Suddenly, a doctor came into the room.
“Miss Washington. The nurse alerted me that you were awake. I just came in to check a few things and fill you in.”
“Oh, hi. Thank you.”
Brenton stood again, allowing the doctor to check my vitals.
“So, how are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot.” I chuckled then groaned.
The doctor laughed. He explained to me that I went through surgery to get the bullet removed from my side. Luckily, it hadn’t hit any major organs. There was no internal bleeding, but I did have some stitches that I’d have to be careful with for the next couple months. Brenton squeezed my hand at the good news.
“Oh, and the baby is doing fine. Happy and healthy.”
Brenton’s hand froze at these words, no longer squeezing mine. The doctor then excused himself to check on his other patients.
“Is it…” Brenton began, but couldn’t get the words out.
“Yes. It’s yours.” I was almost as frozen in place as he was.
“When did you find out?” His hand was still holding mine, but it was now trembling slightly.
“The night before Sabrina and Brian showed up.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He dropped my hand, looking betrayed.
“I was going to, but then you told me you didn’t want any more kids. And then you found Dudley’s journal.” I looked down.
“I see.” His tone sounded angry.
“I wasn’t going to go through with it, you know. Dudley’s plan. I just needed to weigh my options.”
“Your options?”
“My family was aiming to get Dudley’s house as soon as I relinquished my rights in the will and I couldn't let that happen. And then I got a taste of what life would be like if I stayed there, if I followed through with his wishes. I was finally passionate about something. I felt inspired to write and I was enjoying my time with you. I didn’t want to let all that go.”
“How could you keep that from me? I thought you trusted me.”
“I did. I do. Look, I found the journal a few weeks ago, and I didn’t know what to do with it. The inheritance was going to change my life, but I didn’t want to hurt you to get it. And then things just kept happening to confuse me. I—”
“You could have told me.”
“I know, and I should have. But you could have told me a lot of things too.” I lowered my voice as I said it.
“I know. We both made mistakes, didn’t we?”
“A lot of them. Meanwhile, my family is probably going to get the house anyway.” I looked down, defeated and tired. It had been four days, meaning my month was almost up. I had no plan to stop them and I was bedridden.
Just then, Brenton’s phone rang.
“It’s Charlie,” he said. He looked at me, questioning if he should take it or call back so we could continue this conversation.
“You should take it. It’s probably about Amber,” I urged him.