Page 110 of Blitzing Emily

“She’s been on ESPN all morning. She says it’s your baby.”

Emily stared into his eyes. The color drained from his cheeks. “That can’t be true.”

“When was the last time you were with her?”

She shook all over. Even worse, she was freezing cold. Brandon drew her to his chest. This time, she didn’t resist him. His voice was low and barely audible.

“I used a condom every time. Every time.”

“When was the last time you were with her?”

“Before I met you.”

Emily’s brain whirled.Eight months ago, he said. Either he was lying, or Anastasia was. She wanted to believe Brandon, so badly. She wanted to believe Anastasia was lying. In that moment, though, she realized she knew better than to trust a man not to cheat. She’d learned that lesson before.

Her voice shook with anger and repressed hurt. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Shortly after we met. I told her it was over. She didn’t want to take no for an answer.” He stroked Emily’s hair. “I never called her ‘sugar.’ There’s only one, and that’s you.”

“Maybe you should have told me.”

“It didn’t seem important.”

She cut him off. “What if the baby’s yours?” She had to ask.

“It isn’t. She showed up at the bar I go to with the guys, and she made it clear what she wanted ... I left her at the bar. Sugar, there’s been nobody else but you since that day in the parking lot.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “I keep coming up with the same number of months.”

Brandon’s mouth fell open. “You can’t believe she’s telling the truth about this?”

Emily wrapped her arms around herself. “There’s ways to prove paternity. If she lied about it, she’ll get caught. Why would she risk it?”

He let out a snort. “Sugar, you don’t know Anastasia.”

Emily’s throat felt like it was closing up. She concentrated on pulling breath into her lungs. It was her worst nightmare, come true. There had to be an explanation, but no matter how many times she counted on her fingers, it still didn’t look good.

“You saw her. You never told me. Now she says she’s pregnant with your baby, and you’re wondering why I don’t believe you.”

“Sugar, I should have told you. I’m sorry,” he said. “Her baby’s not mine.” He took Emily’s face in his hands. “Not mine,” he repeated.

But then a photo of Anastasia passionately kissing Brandon time-stamped in late March was all over Twitter and entertainment news within twenty-four hours of her announcement. That wasn’t all. Anastasia’s friends were also coming forward and insisting he’d been seeing her the entire time he was with Emily.

ANASTASIA’S DAUGHTER WASborn three weeks later. The baby, supposedly premature, weighed almost ten pounds. Brandon’s lawyers buried Anastasia’s lawyer in a blizzard of paperwork. Brandon submitted to paternity testing the day after the baby was born. Emily spent an additional three weeks at performances in Boston. She’d never been so happy to leave town. She needed some time to think.

Brandon and Emily were still talking, but barely.

Brandon was in Chicago now, preparing for a Monday night game with the Bears. He asked Emily to visit him on her way home to Seattle.

“We need to talk, sugar. Please.”

“I can’t. I have rehearsals in Seattle this week, and I need to get back.”

He was silent for a moment on the other end of the telephone. “Can’t, or won’t?”

She let out a sigh. “I will see you when you’re back from the road trip.”

Amy arrived at Emily’s house a few minutes before Brandon’s game started that Monday night. She stopped in the entryway, reaching out for Emily’s upper arm.

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