All right.I’ve been saying it to everyone. When the baby bed arrived and Cece and Brogan put it together. When Widow Carnes saw me crying in the elevator. When Herman opened the door for me to take a walk.
The world is full of fog, and I have to squint to think straight.
“He knows he’s the father.” I glance out the window. “He’s somewhere running scenarios through his head. He’s rethinking the Broganaspect, if he was part of a scheme. He’s wondering if I tampered with the condoms. He’s wondering if I’ve been stalking him for years, looking for an opportunity. He distrusts every single word I ever said to him, trying to see where he messed up—”
“Stop. What he thinks, you can’t change. What he does, you can’t undo. You made a choice to keep your baby, MissLane. He’s grappling with it.”
My voice wavers. “He’s also scared. He never wanted kids because he had horrible parents. They blamed him for things he couldn’t even control.” I swallow thickly. “He fears he’ll be his father. He fears he’ll withhold love like his mother. He fears chaos and uncertainty because that’s how he grew up. I upended his life with my pregnancy. He’s wondering how to fix it.” I bite my lip to hold in the tears.
He hobbles over to his seat. “I’m sorry, dear, but you need to buck up. You’re made of stronger stuff.”
“Am I?”
There’s a knock at the door, and I rush up to get it before he gets his cane.
“If that’s Widow Carnes, tell herThe Notebookis the worst bit of drivel I’ve read.”
“Blasphemy, but for you, I’ll do it.”
I stop at the mirror in the foyer. My hair is up, oily from lack of a shower this morning; my face is pale; and gray smudges are under my eyes. Whatever.
I open the door and stiffen. “Mr.Shapiro, what do you want?”
He inclines his head. Dressed in a dark suit, he has a slick air about him. “I knocked on your door, and your roommate said you were here. May I come in?”
My breath quickens. Do I want to hear what’s going to come out of his mouth?
“All right.”
He takes a seat in the den, and Mr.Darden comes in and points his cane at him. “I have a law degree I never used, so no funny business, young man.”
“Of course.”
Darden sits next to me on the couch.
Shapiro smiles. “First, Mr.Avery would like to not make this a public issue. No media. No interviews with magazines, television shows, etc. There’s an NDA here”—he slides a piece of paper onto the coffee table—“to keep your relationship, the events of it, your knowledge of his personal life from public purview.”
“Of course.” I sign it without reading, and Darden grunts his displeasure.
“What else?” I ask.
He opens a leather bag and pulls out more papers. My throat prickles with unease.
“We can go to court, of course, to arrange your settlement, or we can agree here and keep it quiet. It’s a generous offer. We spent time calculating the cost of a child, medical care for both of you, a nanny, private school, university—”
“I don’t want anything from him.”
Mr.Darden grunts again, and I send him a look.
Shapiro smiles. He’s good at it. “MissLane, you might change your mind once the child is born, and Mr.Avery wishes to stay out of court. If we settle this now, things will go back to normal.”
I laugh. “Normal?”
“You can get on with your life knowing your child will be well taken care of financially, and Mr.Avery can continue his, knowing you’re both doing well.”
I glance at the papers as if they’re alive and evil. “Is he requesting any custody rights?”
“No.”