That hits me harder than I expected. It’s like a knife in my gut and I have to look at the bar and blink rapidly to keep myself from crying. My cheeks flush and I take several deep breaths and small sips of my drink, and barely manage to halt the sobbing that’s building up in my chest.
All this work. All this struggle. We got so close—but we were never really that close, were we? It was always a lie, always bullshit, from the very beginning.
It doesn’t matter how badly I wanted it. I could’ve done anything, anything at all, and the movie never would’ve happened. Wanting something isn’t always enough—sometimes, the universe spits in your eye anyway and kicks you in the guts while you’re down on the ground.
“I need to tell you something,” I whisper, still not looking at him, hands clammy, trembling. Nothing matters anymore. I’m too far gone to care and now there’s only one last secret to rip into the light. I wish I could drink right now—but I can’t. My fingers drift to my abdomen. I guess that means I’ve finally decided what I want to do with this baby.
He leans toward me. “What’s that?”
“I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve told you the second I found out.” I close my eyes, blinking away tears.
“Found out what?” He’s frowning at me, holding the drink to his lips, but frozen. “What, Webb?”
Anger flares through me. Anger at myself, at the situation. Anger at Cowan and yes, some anger toward Baptist. “I’m a coward, okay? I was afraid that if I told you sooner, it would ruin everything we’ve been working toward. Everything we’ve been building. And I don’t just mean the company and the movie. I mean everything between us, the feelings, the closeness, and, god, I’m screwing this up already, but—”
“Webb,” he says softly, putting a hand on my thigh, then adds, “Blair. Come on. Say it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a steadying breath before I look back at him. My Baptist, beautiful and strong and tortured in ways I’ll never understand. Tears roll down my cheeks. Tears of weakness and of strength, but most of all, tears for what we’ll never have.
“I’m pregnant. I’ve been pregnant since the wedding, since that first night we slept together.”
His fingers dig into my thigh—and I want him desperately to yank me close to him, to kiss me, to tell me everything will be okay, that he cares about me and won’t let anything bad happen, but that’s the fantasy, that’s the fake shit, that’s not the real, cold, brutal truth, because people aren’t simple. They’re not machines built to do the right thing. They’re complicated and flawed and, god, yes, I know, they’re ruined and sometimes they’re wrong, like I was wrong to keep this from him for so long. But I want it anyway. I want him so badly, it kills me.
He pulls his hand away.
A thousand emotions flip across his face. I can’t follow them and it’s like lightning is striking me over and over again. I grip the edge of the bar and stare at him as he slowly processes what I said, running a hand through his hair, then picking up his drink, sipping it, and putting it back down. His face slowly breaks into an enormous smile—
“You’re pregnant with my child,” he says, and he sounds excited. It’s perverse and wrong, it’s not how this should go—but he sounds excited, and for a second, I catch a glimpse of something good, something real and true and right, and it’s right there, inches from my grasp, so close I can taste it.
“I should’ve told you sooner. I hid it from you all this time because I knew you’d end the movie if you found out, or at least you’d keep me from it, and I’m so sorry. I’m having this baby, and—”
Slowly, his smile fades away. “My baby,” he says. “My child.”
“Yeah, Baptist. Your baby.”
He turns away from me and stares straight ahead. “You should go,” he whispers, and it’s like he reached down into my throat and ripped out my heart.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, I was just afraid.” I’m crying harder now, and that good thing is getting further away, drifting deeper and deeper into blackness and nothing, crumbling into dust.
“Please, Blair. This isn’t about you. It’s not about the baby. It’s about me, I’m just—please, I need you to go.”
“Baptist, I just—”
He stands suddenly and throws a wad of cash on the bar. His eyes are wide now, almost wild with panic. He shakes his head and steps back.
“I’ll ruin you both,” he says quietly. “It’s just like Cowan said. He was right, that miserable piece of shit.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry, Blair. I’m so sorry, and I love you, but I have to go.”
“Wait,” I say, getting up. Those words echo in my head like a screaming mountain wind,I love you, but he’s already backing away, already walking to the door. I want to stop him, but he shoves it open and disappears into the day. I stumble after him, trying to wipe my tears away, trying to come to grips with those words and his voice and his fear, his pure and utter fear, but I don’t follow to the curb, to the street, to the car. I don’t follow as he drives off.
I only fall to my knees and put my face in my hands and cry as he disappears, leaving me alone.
Chapter24
Blair