Her lips tipped up at the corners, and she nodded eagerly.
“If Walt did switch the eggs, I don’t hate him for it. I hate him for what he did to you. To Tessa. To everyone. But, if he gave me Tripp… I mean, it wasn’t ideal. Those months knowing we were going to lose him were the hardest of my entire life. But I got twelve minutes with a little boy I’d carried inside me for nine months. It killed me to let him go, but I wouldn’t give up that time with him for anything.”
Her chin quivered as she asked, “Can I say something so incredibly selfish that it’s going to sound like I’m the worst person in the entire world?”
I grinned. “Lay it on me.”
Her tired gaze lifted to mine. “I’m glad it was y’all. I know that’s shitty, but I have no idea where I’d be if it weren’t for you guys and Heath. I’m sorry this is happening. I really am.” A tear finally breached her lid.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heath come unstuck from the jamb and stride toward her. She didn’t seem to notice and kept talking.
“But I’m so selfishly thankful it was y’all. Does that make me a horrible person?”
I laughed, fighting back tears of my own. “If it does, then we can be horrible people together.” I released her hand and clinked my empty glass on her beer.
Heath stopped in front of us, concern crinkling his forehead. “You good, babe?”
She shook her head and laughed, wiping the dampness off her face with the back of her hand. “I’m a horrible person. But so is Elisabeth, so I think it’s okay.”
I bumped my shoulder with hers as I laughed even louder.
It wasn’t really funny.
It was sad. Terribly and tragically depressing.
But, sometimes in life, your only options were to laugh or cry.
And both Clare and I were way overdue for a laugh.
She handed her beer off to Heath as she fell over on the couch, howling with laughter. I was right behind her, falling over to the other side, lost in hysterics.
And we laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed some more.
Until the entire room laughed right along with us.
There would be plenty of time for crying later.
But, for one night, we drank beer and wine, spent time with family, ordered pizza, and pretended it was all so perfectly normal.
“Honey,” I breathed, threading my fingers in the top of Heath’s hair, his head between my legs.
I’d woken up in his arms as he had been carrying me from the bed beside Tessa, into his room across the hall. He’d wasted no time before snatching the panties down my legs and dropping to his knees.
“I want you inside me,” I begged.
“You come on my mouth and I’ll give you my cock.”
I groaned. It wasn’t exactly a hardship; it was, however, early. The morning sun was just starting to peek through the windows, and it wouldn’t be long before Tessa woke up.
It had been almost three weeks since the DNA results and the day Heath and I first had sex. Though, for about a week after that, it had been the only time Heath and I had sex.
The following day, Heath had told me that he wanted me to see a therapist before anything else happened between us. He was also concerned that we hadn’t used a condom. I could see his point on the condom, but there was not one thing a therapist was going to say that was going to sway me from wanting to be with Heath.
And she didn’t.
After my first appointment with the doctor they had brought in to the house to see me and Tessa, I came skipping out of the door, informing him, “She said we were both consenting adults, and if I want to have sex with you, I can.”
He arched an eyebrow and asked, “Did you just spend an hour getting permission to fuck me?”
I shrugged. That wasn’t the only thing we’d discussed, but it was one of the higher points.
He glowered and then shoved me back inside.
An hour later, I reemerged with red-rimmed eyes, emotionally exhausted.
He grinned and hugged me, muttering, “Thank fuck.”
I didn’t give up on my attempts to get him back into bed though. For a week, I tortured him with nighties and cornered him with kisses every chance I could get him alone. I never felt more alive than I was when I was in his arms—naked or clothed.
Though, the night I snuck into the shower with him, I decided I definitely liked him better naked. He wanted me. I knew he did. He was just trying to do right by me. But right for me was just being with him. So, as I pressed him against the wall in the shower, he finally relented with a sexy smirk and a, “Jesus Christ, woman.”
And it was a really good thing, because when we were together, he made me forget the rest of the madness swirling around us.
And I desperately needed more of that.