The Swap(32)

Freya wore a large smock, which did double duty in protecting her clothes and hiding her bump. If there was one. She wiped her hands on a cloth.

“Hey, hon.” Freya kissed my cheek.

I decided to dive right in.

“Low says you’re pregnant.”

Freya’s face darkened. “It wasn’t her place to tell you.”

“So it’s true.”

She reached for my hand then, her blue eyes soft. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I knew it would be hard for you to hear.”

“I’m your friend,” I said, through the lump in my throat, “I’m happy for you.”

“Are you sure? I know how much you wanted a baby and I never wanted to be a mom. It doesn’t seem fair.”

But maybe it was fair? I had betrayed my best friend and my husband when I slept with Max. Perhaps karma had played a hand in conception. “I’m thrilled for you. Honestly.”

“Thank God.” She gave my hand a squeeze, then released it. “Because I’m going to need you. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

“We’ll figure it out together.” I would get over my envy, tamp it down inside of me. I would be there for Freya and her child. My infertility would not impact my support.

“I would have told you, but I was in shock,” she said. “I wasn’t even sure I could conceive. We’d always been kind of lax with birth control. I just assumed we couldn’t get pregnant.”

“How far along are you?”

“I’m at the end of the first trimester.” She smiled then and smoothed the smock over her tummy. Her normally flat abdomen was slightly inflated, like she’d swallowed a small melon. “The baby’s due in May. Spring is my favorite season.”

She was delighted, glowing. Any reservations I’d had about her desire to be a parent evaporated in the face of her excitement.

“Max must be thrilled.”

“He was surprised at first, but he came around. This feels like a positive new chapter for us.”

“A baby is a gift,” I said.

“It is.” Freya’s eyes were sparkling. “I even got back on Instagram. I took a photo of my belly. Just a simple shot, but the lighting was really beautiful, so I thought . . . what the heck. I’ll reactivate my Instagram and post it. I just said: hashtag new beginnings. And I got fifteen thousand likes!”

“Wow,” I said, through a twinge of discomfort. Freya wanting to share her baby news with her legions of fans was not all that unusual, but she’d told me many times how toxic and ugly social media was. Her followers had turned on her in the face of Max’s trial, spewing vitriol and hatred. Freya had lashed back at them, and she’d received death threats, they’d had to hire security. Max’s lawyer had instructed her to deactivate her account to avoid inflaming tensions. Now, she was sharing her most special, most intimate moment with all those strangers . . . but not with me.

“There’s been so much pain and ugliness,” Freya said, and she looked beatific, almost angelic. “And now, we can focus on a beautiful future as parents.”

“It’s wonderful news,” I said, drawing her into a hug.

It was wonderful news, I told myself. Even if it wasn’t my wonderful news.





27


After my meeting with Freya, I picked up some groceries for dinner and a couple of bottles of wine and drove home. I expected to find my husband writing—Brian’s deadline was fast approaching—but his laptop was hibernating, and his chaotic mess of an office was empty. When he still wasn’t home after I put the food and wine in the fridge, I texted him.

Where are you?

As soon as I hit send, I heard the rumble of feet on the front steps. Brian staggered in wearing running tights and a fleece jacket. He was sweaty and panting.

“Hey, I just texted you,” I said.

“You’re home early.” He kicked off his sneakers and paced in a slow circle. “I went for a run.”

“You’ve been running a lot lately.”

“It’s great for stress.” Then he suddenly dropped to the floor and assumed plank position.

My husband had been blessed with a quick metabolism and a natural wiriness. Over the course of our years together, he’d worked out sporadically, usually staying fit with games of pickup basketball or bike rides with his buddies. As I watched him on the floor strengthening his core, I realized how isolated Brian had become. He’d left his sporty pals behind. On the island, he had no friends but Max, a professional athlete who worked out like a warrior. And they hadn’t seen each other in months.

“I left work early to see Freya,” I said, to the back of his head. “She had some news.”

“What was it?” he asked, through gritted teeth.

“She’s pregnant.”

Brian’s held his position for a few more seconds, then lowered his knees. “Really?”

“I was surprised, too. And so was she. She didn’t think they could conceive, but it just happened.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, absorbing the news. Then he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I felt jealous at first, but I’m happy for her. I think she really wants this baby.”