Page 94 of Reckless
“Can I come in?” Loretta requests after a soft knock on my opened bedroom door.
“Of course.” I fiddle with the guard for the back of my earring, head tilted in front of the mirror as I watch her walk into the room, Vivi cradled in her arms. “Thank you so much for watching her while I got ready. You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re the maid of honor today. You need some time to get ready. I’m just a plain old guest. Plus, spending time with my granddaughter isn’t a job.”
I nod, not sure what to say since my parents make zero attempt to spend time with her. Or me, for that matter. And my gut is twisted in knots today. Seeing people. Not hiding Vivi’s paternity anymore.
Speaking of my parents, I still haven’t told them about Theo.
“Do your parents come around much?” She sits on the edge of the bed, hunkering down for what I can tell is going to be a gentle inquisition. I can’t blame her. I’d do the same if my son was in this complicated mess with someone.
With a heavy sigh, I turn to the older woman. Shiny dark hair to go with shiny dark eyes. There is no doubt where Vivi gets her looks from, and as much as it niggles at me sometimes, I’m relieved she doesn’t take after my mom.
“No. When I announced my pregnancy, shit hit the fan.” Loretta’s brows rise in question, and I can’t help but chuckle. “My life is a soap opera.”
“I love a good soap opera,” she replies with a mischievous grin.
Not wanting to wrinkle the pink silk dress, I rest my butt against the windowsill facing the bed and get ready to explain some things. “What has Theo told you?”
“Well, when I asked him, he said it wasn’t his story to tell. He said there was a lot he still didn’t know, but he didn’t want to push you to divulge. I don’t share his restraint.”
She grins and I grin back. I swear anyone else barging in on my business would set me right off, but something about Loretta makes her just...inherently not annoying.
“The short version is that twenty-six or so years ago, my dad knocked up our nanny. She left the baby with him and that started the new Cold War in our house. So, he spent all his time protecting my sister from my bitter mom. Don’t ask me why they didn’t split because I don’t fucking—sorry, freaking—know. Instead, they stayed together and made everyone around them miserable. So, I grew up estranged from my dad and sister because I got assigned to my mom when they picked their teams.”
“Oof,” is all Loretta says.
“Yeah, oof. But I’m a survivor, so I kept my head down, did my schooling, and went to med school like my mom always wanted me to. At the hospital, I met a doctor, the doctor who treated my sister as a teenager when she had some health issues. I thought he was handsome and accomplished and couldn’t believe he was interested inme. After years of not having things for myself, it felt like he was mine. My mom wasallabout me being with a fancy doctor because it made her look good. Like I was doing better than my sister, who was eternally single and ‘only’ went to law school.”
“Ah.” Loretta nods, glancing down at Vivi, who is dozing to the sounds of our voices after whatever rigorous playtime her grandmother just put her through. “Law school is where all the underachievers go.”
I point a finger at her as if to say,Yeah, you get it, then I carry on.
“Except it turned out Dr. Dreamy was a Dr. Douche. A creepy predator who groomed my teenage sister and was hooking up with her as soon as she was legal. But my relationship with her was so fraught that she never told me, even when I married him, because she didn’t want to cause any more ripples in our already turbulent family. She didn’t want to hurt me.”
“Yeah, we definitely don’t want to compare this guy to McDreamy.”
My god, Theo and his mom with the McDreamy stuff.
With a laugh, I continue, feeling proud that I can find humor in this at all now. “So, Rhett found out from Summer, and one day at the hospital Dr. Douche took it a little too far with talking down to them, so Rhett blew up and spilled the beans in front of my entire family and a good chunk of my colleagues. I mean, not all of them, but the ones who were there played a game of telephone about it. So that sucked.”
“That definitely sucks. This sounds a bit like a storyline that belongs inGrey’s Anatomy.”
“Right? I was also pregnant when that happened. After trying for so long. Fertility consults. Fertility drugs. I’m certain I was single-handedly keeping First Response pregnancy tests in business. So, you might say it gutted me. That little corner I was carving out for myself crumbled in a spectacular way that day.”
Loretta is still now.
I can tell this isn’t where she expected our conversation to go. But she’s just easy to talk to, non-judgmental and supportive all at once. I can totally imagine having her in the room with me while delivering. I’ve never seen her work at all, but I already know she must be an incredible midwife.
I study my nails, a paler pearlescent pink this time to match my bridesmaid dress. “Then I miscarried, and that’s when I started considering my options. The way no one showed up for me in the aftermath of that shit show was a wake-up call. Without that baby, I hadnothing. I had a husband who cared more about me telling the medical board about his misconduct than my wellbeing. A mom who cared more about the optics of the entire situation than how I was doing. And a dad who just stared at me awkwardly, too chickenshit to say anything to me.”
“Oh, Winter.” Her eyes water, but I refuse to follow suit. Saying this out loud is cathartic. And it doesn’t make me sad at all. It’s freeing. Maybe I’ve finally gotten over the trauma. I feel like I want to poke the wound even harder to find out if it’s truly healed.
“Theonlyperson who cared aboutmeand howIwas doing was my baby sister. The one I spent literal decades of my life treating like shit. She never stopped messaging me, never stopped trying, and I felt so,sounworthy.And somehow that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I wanted to burn it all down. My life, my job, my house, my marriage. The only two things I wanted to leave standing were Summer and me. So, that’s what I did. Except I had a one-night stand with your son, and apparently condoms truly are only 98 percent effective. So, here I am. Or I guess I should say . . . hereweare.”
I straighten and smile. Because this story finally doesn’t make me feel weak or sad. I feel stronger for having told it out loud. I feel proud of how far I’ve come.
“I think his version of events included an inappropriate comment about being too fertile for any barrier.”
