Page 70 of Her Ex's Father
“She looks healthy,” the tech says softly.
“She?” The word bursts out before I can stop it.
The woman smiles. “Yes. You’re having a girl.”
A girl.
The sound of it makes my chest ache. I stare at the screen, at the perfect curve of her skull, the flick of her tiny foot. My daughter.
Meredith squeezes my hand, her eyes shining. “She’s beautiful, Maddie.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Relief floods through me, mingled with awe. Everything else—Ben’s absence, Derrick’s cruelty, the whispers—fades for a moment. All that matters is the small life moving inside me.
After the scan, Meredith insists we stop for lunch. “You need food,” she says firmly. “Nurse’s orders.”
I’m not so sure, since the nausea is still sitting at the back of my throat, but follow her along the sidewalk anyway. We choose a small café on Main Street, the kind with chalkboard menus and checkered curtains. It’s lowkey and I doubt anyone here would recognize me asMadeline Bronson, the scandalously young, stolen bride.Who also happens to be pregnant.
I order soup and salad, though my appetite wavers. Meredith gets tea.
The bell chimes just as my interest in the soup piques; it’s calming my stomach a bit, the parsnip and apple. I glance up and do a double-take.
Sienna. With a few friends, all wearing understated but perfectly tailored clothes. Sienna has on a cute crop top, her tan belly exposed, long hair glossy. My spine goes rigid as her gaze roves over me; recognition, but it’s cold.
She says something over her shoulder to the pair with her—a young man and another young woman, this one with a daring hairstyle and heavy eye makeup. Their eyes flick to me, then mystomach, then back again. In Aspen, gossip travels faster than wildfire.
Everyone knows Ben is away. Everyone knows I’m pregnant.
I lift my chin, forcing composure. If I pretend not to notice, maybe it won’t sting. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sienna smirk before going to the counter to order a barrage of drinks and baked goods. When she swans out, friends in tow, I hear a vague: “…in Sweden, of all places. Wouldyouleave the country without notice like that?”
Okay,thatstings. But Meredith holds my eyes, as if reminding me of our earlier conversation. I can’t be married to Benedict Bronson and take everything so personally. He does, I’m sure, have actual business in Sweden—the new resort has hit some bumps in its opening plans, and I’ve been sleeping so much that I haven’t been able to quietly sneak into his meetings.
I’m not sure what his plans are, but if he could be,he’d be here.I repeat it to myself like a mantra until Sienna and her friends are forgotten.
Meredith talks about the clinic, about how busy things are, but I only half listen. My thoughts circle back to Ben, to the emptiness at my side today and the unease I can’t quite let go of.
Finally, I blurt the question I’ve been circling all morning. “Meredith… can I ask you something?”
She sets her cup down, attentive. “Of course.”
“It’s about Georgiana.” My voice is low, but the words rush out anyway. “People talk. They… they hint that Ben was involved. With her death.”
Meredith’s expression softens, not surprised. She leans in slightly, her tone gentle. “I knew this would come up eventually.”
I swallow hard. “What really happened?”
“She had ALS,” Meredith says. “You know what that is?”
“A muscle disease, right?” A friend’s uncle in Montana had it, and I remember the sadness when she caught up with myparents, mentioning the unwelcome development. The weight of that prognosis.
“Yes. Progressive. Cruel. By the end she was losing the ability to swallow, to breathe comfortably. She was in pain. She hated what it was doing to her.” Meredith’s eyes grow distant, remembering. “She told me once that she’d rather die than live trapped in her own body.”
A shiver runs through me. All the facts click into place. “So… she ended it?”
Meredith nods. “Yes. Pills. Dr. Furman prescribed them for nights when she couldn’t sleep. When Ben found her, it was too late. He didn’t know she was planning it. If he had, he would’ve stopped her.”
“But people think he…?”
“Some do.” Meredith’s mouth tightens. “Dr. Furman, though I think that’s mostly to avoid his own guilt. Derrick. They’ve convinced themselves he played a role. But I was there, Maddie. I stayed nights at the lodge as she got worse; she’d wake up a lot, have trouble breathing. When he found her, I saw how it broke him. He was devastated. Guilty, he hadn’t seen the signs, guilty he couldn’t save her. But not guilty of helping.”
