Page 167 of Even Exchange

“Whatever it takes.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, hoping to finally hear from Charlotte.

ELIJAH ANDERSON

Just dropped Char off

Me

How’d it go?

ELIJAH ANDERSON

I think i broke his nose

“I have to go,” I tell them. “See you at the game tomorrow.”

And I’m out the door before they can say another word.

IT:Oh, che meraviglia!- EN: Oh, how gorgeous!

IT:Quindi, non è tua figlia? - EN: Is this not your baby?

IT:No. Non è mia figlia. - EN: No. It’s not my baby.

34

CHARLOTTE

An intense battle continues. Me vs. the zipper on this gorgeous, albeit very small, gown. Dresses are sprawled over every surface of my room in piles.

Too small.

Too bump-revealing.

Too ugly.

Although, the too ugly ones are about to make a comeback if I can’t get this stupid damn dress—the fastener slides up, forcing out a breath—zipped.

This is progress.

Turning in the mirror, I note it hides my bump, which is also a plus. However, breathing is problematic, which must be terrible for baby.Damn it.Back to the drawing board.

My bump is small, but it’s definitely noticeable in a form-fitting dress. Especially since my entire life was spent ensuring I stayed in perfect shape.

My mother saw to that.

The reflection in the mirror reminds me of the day’s events. Dark circles and puffiness from crying—or rather, sobbing—earlier hidden behind concealer and eyeshadow.

I didn’t know what to expect from Jonathan, but I never expectedthat.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” I say.

The door opens, then clicks shut. “Hey,soffione.” I spin to face Noah, almost tripping over my dress as I bolt to him. He drops something, catching me easily, and I melt into a puddle of relief in his arms. Tears sting my eyes at the overwhelming emotions of the day.

I blink them back, no desire to reapply my makeup.Again.

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