Page 40 of Masquerade Mistake

“It’s washable,” she says. “And genes don’t matter. Finn is yours, through and through. The only thing Ethan did was supply the sperm.”

“God, Maren.”

“It’s true! You’ve raised this kid all on your own. You don’t owe Ethan anything. He doesn’t ever need to know. I say kick him to the curb and find a man who will accept that you’re a package deal.”

I sit down at the table, and she joins me. I use a napkin to wipe my runny nose, then another. I have a small mountain of tissues before I’m able to really talk.

“He didn’t say he doesn’t want to meet Finn. He just said he’s not ready, and with everything I know about his past, I should have just left it at that. Instead, I asked him if it had to do with his dad.”

“And how’d he take that?”

I wince, the memory of it stabbing my heart. “Not well. He hung up on me.” I sigh, wishing I could go back in time and be more understanding. “I shouldn’t have gone to Nina about him. She told me things that he should have had the chance to tell me himself.”

“But from what Nina said, he probably never would have told you.”

“Maybe,” I admit. “Or maybe he would have. It’s not my choice to make. I mean, what if he found out through you that he’s a father?” I groan then, realizing what I hypocrite I am. “God, I made Nina keep my secret about Finn because I wasn’t ready for Ethan to know, and then I go and find out the biggest thing about him. I didn’t even give him the chance to tell me.”

“It’s not like you knew,” Maren points out.

“I know, but I should have just asked him.”

“And he probably wouldn’t have told you, and you’d be right here, wondering why the perfect guy isn’t so perfect after all.”

I bury my head in my arms on the table. “I should call him again. I should apologize.”

Maren pats the back of my head. “You should give him space,” she says.

I know she’s right. Still, I can’t help checking my phone all night long after she’s gone. I busy myself with work to make up for the lack of calls. As I epoxy tiny book cover replicas, I keep my phone on a bookshelf across the room in an effort to stop torturing myself. But every notification ding, I’m racing to the shelf, hoping to see a text from Ethan. It’s never him. It’s no one. I am in a relationship with the app notifications on my phone.

God, when did I become such a loner? If I’m being honest with myself, it was long before Finn came along. He just became the perfect excuse to shut everyone else out.

When it comes down to it, I’m no better than Ethan when it comes to letting my past dictate my future. I can’t hold it against him. Over the past few hours, I’ve gained a bit more clarity, which mingles with the shame of calling Ethan out before he was ready.

I mean, how many people have I told about my messed-up mom?

I told Ethan.

“But that was your choice,” I say aloud in the empty room. Still, I trusted him with something I was ashamed about. I’m trying to understand his reasons for not telling me, but it’s hard not to take it personally. I have to keep reminding myself that he doesn’t talk about this with anyone, that it’s not just me.

Besides, he still doesn’t know my biggest secret. Now, I’m not sure he ever will.

Chapter 16

I don’t hear from Ethan the following day, or the day after that. I’ve drafted about a half dozen texts to him that I immediately delete after typing, determined to not be the one who breaks the silence first.

He hung up on me. He should be the one who caves.

But it’s more than pride that keeps me from contacting him. I crossed a line, and I know it. I dug where I shouldn’t have been digging, and then I practically threw his past in his face. I didn’t even try to understand how his father’s rejection could have an effect on his life now.

Then there’s the book. Now that I’ve seen firsthand how much his dad messed him up, I want to crawl into a hole in the earth and hide over that stupid book I picked out for him. I can’t imagine what he was thinking when I handed him a book about a secret baby. My only solace is the fact that he isn’t much of a reader and hasn’t mentioned By the Bay to me once. He may not have even picked it up.

But what if he has? God, I was so stupid! How do I tell him now that Finn is his? If I get the chance, that is.

Beyond drafting unsent texts, I make myself busy to keep from checking my phone every five minutes. I pour myself into all the things I slacked off on over the past few weeks. My house is now sparkling, every single corner clean, and bags of old clothes and books are ready to donate by the door. I churn out a ton of book swag that I post on my Etsy page, and I even gain a few more clients over some new designs I put out. I help Finn build an elaborate racecourse in his room, something I’ve been promising to do for months and never had the time before. It’s amazing how much time I have now.

I even try out a few new recipes, including interesting ways to make vegetables.

“I don’t want this,” Finn says, flicking roasted broccoli off his plate so that it skitters across the table. I roll my eyes as I put the vegetables back on his plate, fighting the impulse to react as I ignore his protests.

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