#Chapter 13: Baby Clothes

Tessa’s POV

"What are you doing here?"

When I hear the sheer coldness in Evander’s voice as he looks at me, my heart feels like it’s freezing over.

I want to explain, but just as I open my mouth, Carol appears behind Evander and shoots me a smug smile.

Carol.

I grit my teeth as I stare at her.

Of course she would set me up like this.

It makes sense–too much sense. I should have known better than to trust anything she’d rope me into, but the sense of urgency she’d created got the best of me, and I’d been swept up in her lie.

She used my own fear of disappointing Evander against me.

And it worked.

Doesn’t she know I’ve already lost Evander?

Why is she still trying to sabotage me?

"Members of the Alpha Council, I’m terribly sorry for this interruption," Carol says, turning to look at all the men in suits. "Ms. Tessa here is just a hearing-impaired member who seems to have lost her way in the building. I’ll handle this matter shortly."

My face burns with humiliation.

It’s not just the way Carol reduces me down to some confused deaf women–it’s the way everyone looks at me with sympathy when she says it, like I’m some pathetic, helpless thing who can’t even exist without being a burden to someone.

I hate it.

I’ve hated it ever since I started needing hearing aids.

I look up at Evander, wondering if he’ll challenge the obvious lies in what Carol is saying, but his gaze sweeps right over me.

"Let’s keep going," is all Evander says to the Alpha Council members, and he leads the group right past me.

As they all walk by, my heart seems to shatter over and over again, glass fragments ground to dust.

I stand helplessly in the building’s lobby.

I don’t know what to do, where to go…

Carol approaches me, still wearing that insufferably smug expression.

"See?" She says simply. Her tone is shrill and mocking. "I hope you can see the truth now: to Evander, you’re nothing but a shame. A burden. No matter what happens, I’ll always be better than you."

Each word is a fresh knife plunged into my chest.

"Evander will never publicly accept your identity," Carol continues. "I may never be his wife, but at least as his Beta I can stand openly by his side."

Despite everything I’ve been through, I still feel a pang of sadness shoot through me.

"You don’t–you don’t have to do this, you know" I tell Carol quietly. "I was never going to stand in anyone’s way. This is just cruel."

Carol’s lip curls. She sneers at me, but she doesn’t say anything.

"I’m not your enemy," I say.

With that, I turn on my heel and walk right back out of the building.

Standing on the crowded street, it takes me a second to regain my bearings. I’m unfamiliar with this part of town, and I don’t think I’m in a clear state of mind to drive right now. I breathe out a heavy sigh and slip my phone out of my pocket.

Me:

I’m so sorry I ran into you like that just now.

I didn’t mean for that to happen

I wasn’t looking for you–I think I misunderstood a message from one of your staff

I stare at the screen, and stare, and stare, desperate for some sort of acknowledgement from Evander.

But before my very eyes, the delivered status on the bottom of the message switches to read.

A minute goes by.

Two.

Three.

Five.

Ten.

And after fifteen minutes of sheer inactivity, I know that Evander has absolutely no intention of responding to my text.

His response–or lack thereof, I suppose, is as cold, empty, and gutting as always.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse…

I breathe out a heavy, exhausted sigh and slip my phone back into my purse.

Of course he doesn’t care. Of course he won’t believe me. And even if he did believe that the whole thing was a misunderstanding or a setup on Carol’s part, it won’t change the way he sees me.

Carol wins.

I’m just his weak, helpless disabled wife, and soon enough I won’t even be that to him.

I can’t think about this any more.

I can’t do this.

I need a walk.

I start to make my way down the well-paved sidewalks of the town. It’s a nice area, and as I begin to move away from Evander’s place of work, I find myself in a lovely little commercial area lined with small shops and storefronts.

I feel a bit better as I walk past florists, bakeries, small local galleries. Simple, bright, beautiful places. There’s something soothing about the sight of them, the consistency, the softness.

Well-manicured trees line the sidewalks, and sunlight spills between the branches. It’s a lovely day, if nothing else.

As I start to explore the area, I spot a charming little baby store on the other side of the sidewalk.

My heart leaps as I cross the street. I stop in front of the store and look through the window.

The first thing I notice is the baby clothes–adorable dresses and overalls, tiny shoes, hand-knit sweaters. My heart leaps as I think about choosing outfits for my small baby, the simply joy of dressing them.

There are other things there, too–cribs, mobiles, high chairs…

Toys. Books. Music boxes. With every item I lay eyes on, I feel a stirring in my heart.

This could be my life.

Sometime in the next nine months, this will be my life.

As I stand outside the store, hand settled on my stomach, a store employee approaches me with a wide smile.

"Welcome to Baby Mart!" The employee beams. "My name is Joanna, and I can help you out today. I take it you’re expecting? Please let me know if there’s anything I can assist you with!"

My head feels like it’s spinning. There are things I’ll need–so many things. Diapers. Bottles. Pacifiers.

I’m going to be a mother.

It feels a bit more real with every detail, and right now, as I stand outside the shop, it’s hitting me full-force.

"I–" I begin to say.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot Mira and Madeleine walking along the sidewalk.

My heart plummets into the pit of my stomach.

"I need to go," I stammer out to the employee, blood rushing in my ears.

Her brow furrows in confusion.

Before I get the chance to walk away, though. Mira and Madeleine suddenly catch up to me.

Mira narrows her eyes at me immediately, while Madeleine just tilts her head, quietly pondering.

"Hey… hey, Mira," I say with an awkward wave, hastily taking my hand off my stomach.

Mira scowls at me and doesn’t return any of my pleasantries.

Instead, when she speaks, her voice is harsh and accusational, sending chills running down my spine.

"Are you pregnant?"