Chapter 23

23

18 years old - Lily

I clutch the phone to my ear and let out a big smile, even though Nick can't see it. The screen is already hot to the touch; the machine working overtime from our two-hour-long conversation.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm still here, but I might have to go soon. Low battery."

"No problem. Yeah, so that's pretty much it. It was so amazing to see them again after such a long time. Also, New York looks amazing in May. Not going to lie, though, it feels pretty good to be sitting at the airport right now. I've missed you this weekend. I wish you would have come with us."

Nick and his family went to New York over the weekend to attend the wedding of a couple they befriended when they were living in Tokyo. The groom was a young college graduate looking for an adventure in the form of teaching English to Japanese children, but got so much more out of his temporary work contract when he met his now wife, a fellow English teacher from Ireland.

"I wish I could have been there too, but you know my mom."

"I do. Can I come over once I get back?"

"How about I come over? You're going to be really tired. What time does your flight land?" I can hear him discussing the flight details with his parents, their voices overpowered by all the hustle and bustle around them.

"We should be landing in Radinger around five. The delay is a bit longer than I thought."

"Alright, I'll come after dinner. Listen, I have to go, Nick. Have a safe flight, okay? I love you."

"Love you, too, Lil."

After plugging my phone into the charger and letting it rest on my nightstand, I climb onto my bed to lie down for a second to digest the conversation I've had with Nick, rubbing my forehead while thinking about everything.

I lied to him. I didn't even ask my mom whether I could come with the Johnsons to New York or not. I was just afraid his mom would clock my pregnancy from a mile away. Nick might miss the signs, but I doubt a woman who has birthed a child would not notice my constant trips to the bathroom, the loss of appetite, and the various mood swings throughout the day.

What can I say? I'm a coward and I am ashamed of myself. After our big fight at the cabin, it was like a dark cloud had been lifted off of Nick's head. He had used the conflict as a learning experience, and he thought I did the same. We started talking to each other in a better way after that, a more effective way. We showered the other person with much more affection.

But Nick doesn't know and I'm just doing what I do best—pretending. That night changed me, but not in the way he thinks it did. He doesn't know that when he thrusted into me in the tent, all I could think about was Logan pinning me down on my bed, choking me with his hands. He doesn't know that I'm pregnant.

He would leave me if he knew, I'm sure of it. Maybe that's why I haven't told him. I want to have as many good memories of Nicholas Johnson as I can before the inevitable comes. And with every fiber in my body, I know that I'm being selfish. My mind is made up. I'm going to tell him tonight. And then I'm going to tell my mom.

The door to my room suddenly swings open. My mother walks in. Her dark brown hair teased in her usual updo. A black garment bag drapes over her right arm.

"I brought your graduation dress to the dry cleaner," she says dryly. She unzips the garment bag and takes out the yellow dress. I grimace at the thought of how my body will look in it.

After I thank her, she struts back to the door without saying much else, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. I stand up and pick up the dress draping over my desk chair. I bite my bottom lip as I wonder what the graduation ceremony will be like. The thought of having so many eyes focused on me causes bile to rise up from my stomach. Although, who am I kidding? The urge to vomit right now could be caused by the hormones as well.

I free myself from the baggy T-shirt and yoga pants, letting both pool around me on the floor. Taking the spaghetti straps of my yellow dress off the hanger one by one, I slide it on and walk over to the floor-length mirror in my bathroom. The moment I see my reflection, the color of my face turns a few shades lighter. The material of the dress is somewhat stretchy, but it's not as forgiving as a baggy T-shirt. Although the growing baby in my belly is barely noticeable, I look like I got a boob job. I look like I got a really good boob job.

Bile shoots up my throat again and I open the toilet lid in panic. I crouch on the floor and hold my hair up with one of my hands, the other one gripping the seat as I expel the sandwich I had for lunch into the toilet bowl. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and walk over to the sink to clean myself up, the sound of the water stream coming out of the faucet drowning out my sob.

My body stiffens when I turn to dry my hands with a towel hanging on the wall and spot my mom silently watching me. Her eyes narrow as she observes me. The hardened stare moves from my face, to the vomit stain on the dress, down to my breasts, before going all the way down to my belly, and then up again.

"How far along are you?" she asks me calmly.

I look down at my feet. "Mom, I'm sorry."

"When are you due?"

"Mid-December."

"Unless Tabitha is the father of your child, you didn't just spend spring break with her up there in the cabin, did you?" I shake my head and fresh tears start falling down on my cheek. "Who else was there?"

"Who else was there, Lily?" She repeats her question when I didn't answer her the first time.

"Taylor and Nick."

She rolls her head and huffs. "I raised you better than this!" She starts pacing around in the open space between my bed and the bathroom, her heels making a clicking sound as they meet the hardwood floor. "You know, I have kept my mouth shut this whole time, but clearly you haven't learned anything from that horrendous picture everyone saw. That boy grew up to be trouble, and you are too na?ve to see that!"

"It's not his fault, Mom!" I tell her, feeling defensive for Nick. My Nick. My Nick who is so good. So gentle. My Nick, who is just trying his best. The only person who loves me wholeheartedly. My safe space, like the papasan chair in Tabitha's room.

My mom looks at me in disbelief. I haven't raised my voice at her in a long time. After my dad died, I figured pretty quickly that nobody would come to my defense if I stood up for myself. I perfected the in-one-ear-out-the-other method of listening to her when she's angry with me, smiling and nodding along.

She marches out of my room and goes down the staircase as she yells at me. "I'm calling Lucy! We have to figure out how to deal with this quickly and discreetly!"

The hairs on my neck spike at the mention of Nick's mom, and I bolt out the door to run after her. "Mom! Mom! Please don't call Nick's mom!" I scan the living room to find her taking her phone out of her purse. "Mom, you can't do that!"

She ignores my pleas as she closes her purse and puts it back on the console table behind the couch. "Enough, Lillian. You will let the adults handle this now. You have proven yourself to be incapable of making good decisions."

She scrolls through her phone and holds it next to her ear as horror washes over my face. My brain pictures Nick and his parents waiting for their plane at the airport, maybe sitting down at a Starbucks, and hearing Astrid Simmons tell them that I'm pregnant. I snatch the phone from her hand and press end call, before throwing the phone on the couch and earning me another angry glare from my mom.

"Just what do you think you're doing?!"

"Mom, please, you don't understand. It's no?—"

"What, Lily? Please tell me what I don't understand!"

I try to calm myself down the best I can, pushing the hair strands sticking to my face to the side and wiping my tears away. I look at her standing in front of me, tapping her fingers on her forearms.

"Mom, Nick is not the father." I barely finish my sentence when her palm lands on my cheek. I cup the part that stings with my hand and stare at her. She hates me .

"I didn't want it to happen, Mom," I tell her in between my sobs, still clutching my cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that Nick and Taylor were also at the cabin. But Nick and I had a fight, so I asked Bryce to pick me up the first night we were there. He had his friends over and one of them. He...he assaulted me."

"Why did Bryce have to pick you up?"

Of course, that's the part that she latches on. "I was drunk."

My mom puts her hands on her waist and scoffs. "And his friend who you claim assaulted you. What's his name?"

Who you claim assaulted you.

"Logan," I answer flatly, feeling defeated. "You've met him once when he was here. Logan McKenna."

Her expression changes at the mention of the McKenna last name. "I know his parents. I'll make some phone calls and we can figure out a plan with them."

"What do you mean by figure out a plan?"

"Well, he has to take responsibility. He needs to take care of you and the baby. If you don't want to, you know, get it taken care of. My advice is you shouldn't."

I look at her, mortified. She doesn't need to say it, but I see the dollar signs in her eyes. Logan McKenna of the McKenna Media Group. Who cares if he forced himself on her daughter, right? As long as he keeps the checks coming in.

"Mom, I don't want him taking care of anything!" My voice is angry and desperate. "Don't you get it? He raped me."

She waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, Lily, you were drunk. You just had a fight with your boyfriend and Logan was there. You probably just cheated on Nick and regretted it. We know how these things can get."

"I'm going to report him to the police, Mom," I tell her.

"You will do no such thing," she snaps. "With people like the McKennas, you have to deal with things like this delicately. Besides, the family is one of Arthur's clients. I will tell him to call Mr. McKenna first thing tomorrow. We'll go over there or they'll come here and we can iron out the details together."

I shake my head, anger building up inside me at record speed. "You know," I say bitterly. "Dad would have been so ashamed of who you have become. But then again, you were already a gold digger too when you met him."

Her lips thin, and I can't read her expression anymore. "You ungrateful, spoiled brat," she scowls. "I am trying to give you the best option possible and having a McKenna child is it. Don't be delusional, Lillian! You think the police will believe you? You were drunk. And even if by some miracle they did, Logan's family would bury the case and you would have dragged our names through the mud for nothing."

I open my mouth to say something, but she cuts me off. "Are you hesitant because of your boyfriend? Grow up, would you? Unless you plan on acting like the baby is his, it's over for the two of you." When I don't answer, she starts talking again. "Do you want to tell him that the baby is his? You can get engaged quickly and we can pretend you fell pregnant after the engagement." Is she fucking joking? Is she trying to do damage control to her image right now?

"I'm not going to do that to Nick, Mom."

"You either do this my way or you can pack up your things and leave, see how this ends for you. I'm right and you know it. Either pretend the baby is Nick's or we tell the McKennas they need to take care of the mess their son got them into. Don't you dare embarrass me."

"Mom," I say, trying my best to stay calm. "You don't have to believe me, but Logan did rape me. You shouldn't want him to be near your daughter or a baby. And we are not going to lie to Nick and his family. Why do you only care about money and your reputation? You didn't use to be like this."

When she doesn't respond, I continue speaking. "I am going to do what's right."

Her hand hits my cheek again, the familiar warmth coming back to my skin. "Get out of my house, Lillian. Let's see how long you'll last without me." She yanks her purse and puts it over her shoulder. "You're eighteen. You only have your class trip and graduation ceremony coming up. No more classes."

She clicks her heels and walks away from me, toward her room, mumbling something under her breath, but loud enough for me to hear.

Just do us all a favor and go away. Such a sorry excuse for a child.