She buried her face in her hands.
“Stupid man!” Her voice was muffled, but her frustrated words were clear. She shook her head and looked up again. “And when I gave him the papers. He was stunned. Completely stunned, I could tell. And . . . he looked hurt. Mr. Ice Cold, who had never before shown any evidence of emotion at all, looked hurt. Why is he doing this to me?”
“Is he going to contest the divorce?” Tina asked, and Libby shrugged.
“He says he doesn’t want a divorce, says we should try again for Clara’s sake. Says we’re compatible and could have a good marriage. He never speaks of emotions, mind you. It’s all very clinical. And he thinks that because I let him spend a few nights looking after Clara and that I foolishly allowed him to attempt to fix some things around the house—something I agreed to only to prove to him that he couldn’t be good at everything, by the way—and okay, maybe we kissed a few times. And did some other stuff. But I’m only human! And I foolishly allowed him a few freedoms that I shouldn’t have. I’m such an idiot. The man hasn’t properly apologized for his emotional abandonment during my pregnancy. He seems to think I should be grateful that he now believes Clara is his daughter . . . he’s . . . oh my God, he’s so frustrating and annoying and . . .”
She muffled an exasperated scream behind her hand.
“I just want to break something. Possibly my grandmother’s ugly, fake Ming dynasty vase . . . over his stupid, stubborn head!”
“What are you going to do?” Tina asked, and Libby raised her hands and shoulders in another angry shrug.
“Push for the divorce. I need to move on with my life. I’m sorry, Tina. I don’t mean to lay this all on you like this.”
“That’s what friends are for, Libby,” Tina said.
“Really, Tina? Because sometimes I feel like I tell you everything, and you tell me nothing.” Tina knew Libby was referring to the massive secret she had kept for more than a decade, and she couldn’t blame her friend for sounding a little bitter and disillusioned.
“I told Harris about . . . about Fletcher tonight.” Saying her baby’s name was hard, but she hadn’t used it when she told Libby about him the other day, and he deserved to be referred to by name. “It wasn’t easy.”
“How did he take it?” Libby asked softly.
“I think he was . . . shocked. Devastated. He shed a few tears.”
“Good! Why should you be the only one to live with that, Tina? He should face up to his accountability as well. I’m so angry with him. I expected more from him.” Libby’s expression had gone flinty, and Tina inexplicably felt herself wanting to defend Harris from her friend’s wrath.
“To be fair,” she began, keeping her tone rational. She had never meant to drive a wedge between Libby and Harris. Libby valued his friendship too much, and vice versa. “I told him I was on the pill—I was on the pill—but I foolishly thought that it would be effective after only a few hours.” The words were coming out slowly, the thoughts forming as she said them. But as she verbalized those thoughts, Tina recognized that these were things she should have told herself years ago. “He had no idea I would get pregnant; he trusted that I wouldn’t. Blaming him for something he had zero control over, and no knowledge of, is . . . unfair.”
Libby sucked her lips into her mouth, her cute dimple making an appearance as she considered Tina’s words.
“He should have used a condom.” Her words carried no real heat, and Tina nodded.
“He would probably agree with you.”
“Ugh, these Chapman men. Why couldn’t we fall for sweet, uncomplicated guys?” Libby asked on a tired exhalation.
“I didn’t fall for Harris,” Tina denied quickly, even while her conscience called her a big fat Liar. With a capital L. “I had a stupid teenage crush on him, and unfortunately there were consequences.”
“I didn’t fall for Greyson either. Well, not much,” Libby said before continuing with a wry grin. “Only a little, really—barely a stumble.”
Tina laughed at her friend’s self-deprecating wit.
“Only an idiot would fall for a man whose heart is completely encased in ice,” Libby finished, her smile fading and the light disappearing from her striking eyes. She cleared her throat self-consciously and got up, smoothing her palms down the front of her skirt.
“We should get going. Thank you for watching Clara tonight.” Tina got up as well, stuffing the toy that she had been clutching to her chest throughout their conversation into Clara’s baby bag.
“I honestly could not have done it without Harris,” Tina admitted. “But tonight has helped, Libby. So much. And finally holding her made me remember so many wonderful things about my baby.”