Page 24 of Let's Be Forever

“Are you not going to eat?” Maya asks. “Your food is probably already cold.” She breaks off the piece of bread that came with her meal and stuffs it in her mouth.

I glance down at my bowl of ravioli. It’s filled with lobster and covered in a spicy tomato vodka sauce, with grilled shrimp scattered around the plate. It smells divine, but I can’t stomach anything right now.

I’m anxious, nervous that Sylas will come back. His last name isn’t on her birth certificate, but I did enough research to know if he really wanted to fight for her, he could petition the court for a paternity test. I should be at ease because he didn’t bring her up; he pretended like he didn’t know about her, but he could’ve been playing me. Maybe he wanted to see how I would react, use my words against me. I don’t know, but his mom was adamant if I ever came near him again, they’d take legal action.

The thought makes me feel sick.

“I’ve been cramping. I think I’m going to get my period soon,” I lie, pasting a small, apologetic smile on my face. “Sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“It’s fine. Just heat it up later.” She shrugs, unbothered.

Clementine, who is sitting on the other side of me, eyes me suspiciously, but I don’t pay her attention. Thankfully, she doesn’t voice her thoughts out loud, which is unlike her.

We spend the next few minutes talking until we have to open up the bakery again.

“You be good to Maya, okay?” I hold my daughter extra tight, drawing out the embrace.

She giggles, pushing at my chest to put her down.

“Don’t let her con you into buying?—”

“But just look at this.” Maya picks her up, waving her hand up and down her round, bright face. “And either way, I’m her aunt. I’ll buy her whatever I want.”

She looks just like him. I wish she didn’t.

The guilt becomes tenfold because looking at her makes me hate myself. I’m happy I have her, but I hate that she’s a reminder of him.

I’m a horrible parent.

I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “She already has enough toys, and it’s already tight as it is in the apartment. There’s no more room for?—”

“Oh, look at the time. You need to open, and we need to go. Rosie and I have a busy day.” She’s halfway out the door, waving goodbye at Em and me. “We’ll see you at home. Bye, Clementine, I’ll see you later. Maybe one day we can find a time for all three of us to do Pilates.”

“Definitely. Text me.” Em grins.

Once they’re gone and the door closes behind them, Clementine folds her arms against her chest, staring at me with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen.

“Why do you look like that?”

“You’ve been distracted all day, and I know you’re not cramping. Our periods always come the first of the month.” Dammit, that’s right. I forgot we’re synced up. She narrows her eyes, continuing. “What is going on, and who the hell am I fighting? You know I’m a certified black belt. I can kick ass. Male or female, it doesn’t matter.”

After Sylas left, I cried it out, not dragging myself up from the bakery floor for ten whole minutes. Which is why my face is puffy and red this morning. Em had already suspected something was wrong, but I didn’t tell her or Maya. Though mysister didn’t ask because we still haven’t opened up all the way. I just don’t know how to talk to her, and even though things are different between us now, I’m too embarrassed to share.

“I’m a mom. Remember, I told you periods worsen after giving birth. Sometimes I get cramps before I get my period.”

That’s not necessarily a lie. I was told by my midwife that periods can worsen after every birth for some women. The joys.

“I remember, but you’ve been weird. Weirder than yesterday. Is everything okay, sweets?” she asks, her worried gaze flickering all over my face.

Just as I’m tempted to tell her, the bell chimes. I tense, but it quickly dissipates as two female customers enter through the door.

He won’t come back, I tell myself.

“I’m good. I promise.” I force my smile to lift higher. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”

This is so pathetic. I can’t believe I had to make a fake account to reach out to him. I don’t know if he’ll even see it, seeing as he has close to four million followers. My best bet is that he won’t, but it’s worth a try.

Me:It’s me, Anna. I know you want nothing to do with me, seeing as you’ve blocked me everywhere. I really hate to tell you via Instagram DM but I’m pregnant.