Page 172 of Even Exchange

“The only reason you’re even still above water is because Noah’s allowing you to live in his house.” The corners of her mouth quirk upwards. “Oh.” She nods. “Now I get it.”

My skin crawls, her assuredness making me uneasy. “Get what?”

“You’ve manipulated Noah into paying for your mistake.”

My lips part, chest aching. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Because as far as I can see, the only one benefitting from that relationship is you.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “How do you figure?”

“You get an NFL football player with a seven-figure bank account, and he gets a broke, aimless, has-been cheerleader knocked up with some other man’s baby.”

I seethe, tears stinging my eyes. “You’re wrong.”

“Noah’s a fixer. I could tell from the moment I met him,” she says, and it’s true. He’s the one our friends call when they need help. The one I call when I need help.

“Figure it out with Jonathan,” she says, tone firm. “I won’t let this ridiculous scandal cost me the campaign.”

That’swhat she’s thinking about right now? My veins buzz with anger. “No one cares about your stupid campaign!”

“Keep your voice down,” she grinds out.

“Why?” I laugh hysterically. “Worried someone’s going to find out your daughter’s a raging whore with ‘who’s the daddy’ problems?!” I cup my hands around my mouth like a megaphone. “Somebody call Jerry Springer!”

“Charlotte,” she snaps, gripping my wrists and yanking them downwards. “You’re making a mistake.”

“What other choice do I have?” I say, exasperated, shaking her off.

“You can go on a little year abroad, we’ll find a nice family for the baby, and then you can go back to your normal life.”

My mouth falls open. “You want me to give the baby up for adoption?”

“It’s what’s best.”

“For who?”

“Youandthis baby. You’re not ready to be a mother,” she says, her eyes softening.

“Because you’re the expert on motherhood,” I huff, pain encompassing my heart.

“I want what’s best for you.” She reaches for me, and I slap her away.

“You want what’s best for me?” I fume, my fists curled at my sides. “You don’t even know me.”

“You have no idea how hard this will be.”

“I’ve been taking care of the twins for years,” I spout. “Given how busytheirmother was.”

“For what, an afternoon?” she scoffs. “If you think taking care of kids full time is so easy, then you should have no trouble taking the twins for their fall break next month.”

I want to shout at her that she’s using me for an excuse to pawn her remaining children off. That she’s wrong about Noah and a raging, selfish bitch.

But all I find myself saying is “Okay.”

35

NOAH

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