“We paint pots?” I asked flatly, already mentally listing a hundred better uses for my limited energy.
“Maybe pots. Or bowls. Or nursery decorations,” she grinned. “Liv, come on. We can make something for the baby’s room.”
I sighed. “Fine. But you’re buying whatever the baby demands for dinner.”
“Deal,” she laughed. “I already told Malcolm to stay home with Tess.”
That made me pause.
Ava had never been Malcolm’s biggest fan. The fact that she’d coordinated with him ahead of time showed just how determined she was to drag me out of hiding.
A Night Meant to Be Light
The studio buzzed with energy when we arrived. Fifteen women, maybe more. Laughter floated through the room. Wine glasses clinked. Paint splattered across tables in cheerful chaos.
It was supposed to be lighthearted—a break from responsibilities and reality.
We settled in with brushes and palettes, and conversation drifted naturally toward birth stories. Some women shared dramatic deliveries. Others told stories about sisters or cousins or frantic midnight drives to the hospital.
Then one woman began to speak.
She was a brunette with nervous energy and a too-wide smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She told us about her boyfriend leaving her on the Fourth of July. He’d rushed out because his sister-in-law had gone into labor.
“We were watching a movie,” she said. “It was almost midnight when he got a call saying Olivia was in labor. The whole family was heading to the hospital. He said he had to be there.”
My heart stumbled in my chest.
Tess was born on July 4th.
And I’m Olivia.
I told myself it was coincidence. It had to be.
But the woman kept talking.
“Six months later,” she continued, “I went into labor. And guess what? Malcolm missed it.”
She let out a hollow laugh. “He said he couldn’t leave because he was babysitting his niece Tess.”
My grip tightened around my paintbrush.
Across the table, Ava locked eyes with me.
“What are the odds?” she whispered.
My voice came out smaller than I intended. “Your boyfriend’s name is Malcolm?”
She nodded casually.
My hands shook as I unlocked my phone. “This Malcolm?”
I showed her my wallpaper—Malcolm, Tess, and me. My pregnant belly just starting to show. A smiling family frozen in a moment that now felt like fiction.
Her face drained of color.
“That’s your husband?” she whispered.
I nodded.
Then she shattered everything.
“He’s my son’s father too.”
