The Swap(56)

“Fuck you,” Freya barked. “I’m not risking my baby getting stuck with a needle to put your mind at ease.”

“There are noninvasive ways to test paternity in utero,” I said. “They can take your blood and extract the baby’s DNA from it. It’s perfectly safe.”

Freya looked at me, her lip curled into a sneer. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

She’d sensed my hope, but I was far from loving this. “Yeah, it’s wonderful,” I snapped. “My best friend is pregnant with my husband’s child, and she’s been lying about it for months.”

“I told you it’s not his fucking baby! You’re so desperate to be a mother that you’re trying to steal my child. You’re sick. You’re pathetic.”

Anger welled up inside of me and made my voice shake. “Then prove it,” I said. “Because if the baby is Brian’s, it will be a hell of a lot better off having me for a mother than you!”

Freya’s eyes widened with shock, and her face paled with chagrin. My words were cruel, they would irrevocably destroy our friendship. But it felt good to stand up to her, to hurt her even. She thought I was weak and cowardly. She thought I worshipped her so much that I’d cave in, back down. But I would fight for the truth about this baby.

She took a step back as if I’d slapped her.

“Oh shit,” she said. “I think my water just broke.”

I saw the wet patch on her designer maternity jeans, watched it spread down her legs. “It’s too early,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“Fuck,” Max muttered.

“Is it too early?” Brian asked. “If the baby’s mine, you’re only a couple weeks from your due date.”

“It’s not fucking yours!” Freya screeched, her face red, eyes wild. She was hunched over, clutching her belly. She looked angry. And terrified.

“We need to go to the hospital,” Max said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, tears pricking my eyes. Had my verbal attack caused premature labor? Was the baby in jeopardy because I couldn’t control my rage? “Can I do anything? Does she have her bag packed?”

“Stay the fuck away from me, Jamie!” Freya yelled as Max grabbed a small case from the front closet and escorted her to the door. “You’re not getting anywhere near me, or my baby!”





52


max


We took my car; Brian had parked directly behind Freya’s white Range Rover. The hospital was only a fifteen-minute drive from our home, but Freya’s contractions seemed to be pretty intense. At least, that’s what I could deduce from the vitriol she spewed at me through gritted teeth.

“You sent that fucking e-mail, didn’t you? You told Jamie that it’s not your baby.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You’re the only one who knows I slept with Brian! It has to be you, you fucking traitor!”

“It wasn’t. You must have told someone.”

“Who would I tell? I have no one here!” Then she let out a fierce, guttural scream as a contraction hit her.

“Breathe,” I said.

“Fuck you!” she responded.

When the pain had passed, she continued her rant. “You never wanted this baby! You’re trying to give it away!”

“I’m not,” I said, which was the truth. But she was right; I’d never wanted it. Freya and I weren’t meant to be parents. Years ago, I would have welcomed a child, but not now, not after all the ugly shit we’d been through. I’d known that my chances of fathering a child were “practically zero” when I married Freya. If I’d wanted a family, I would have chosen a different wife. It sounds harsh, but Freya was not mother material. Freya was sexy, beautiful, witty . . . but she was not selfless; she was not loving. She was not cut out to be someone’s mom.

Neither was Paula Elphin. I barely knew her, but a person who would lie in court about having sex with an athlete just to get child support . . . well, she was hardly a positive role model. Thank God I hadn’t slept with her. She’d been all over me in the bar that night, but I was a newlywed, madly in love. Freya wasn’t possessive, but I wasn’t interested. When Paula accused me, my lawyer thought my sterility would be the quickest and easiest way to make it all go away. We hadn’t expected the judge to order a DNA test.

“I have contracts!” Freya growled, through gritted teeth. “I have sponsors! If we have a paternity scandal, I’ll be ruined again.”

“Jesus Christ. That’s what you’re worried about?”

She hit me then, her hand connecting with my jaw. It smarted; Freya was small, but her rage made her strong. The pain made my eyes water and my face throb. And then I felt that familiar release. It was like scratching at a rash you weren’t supposed to touch. It was damaging, could cause infection. But it was such sweet relief, like it always was, if only for a moment. Freya had come up with a cover story for her battery, had told Jamie I’d been fighting in bars. But the only person who abused me was my wife. And I let her because I deserved it, even craved it in a fucked-up way. I wanted more, wanted her to claw and scratch and punish me. But not now.

My wife was about to give birth to another man’s baby.