Bren
I didn’t go back to work. Couldn’t, because then I’d have to tell Mandy what happened, and I figured if I didn’t say anything—out loud, to anyone—I could pretend for a little while longer that this whole sordid afternoon was a grainy figment of my sleep-deprived imagination.
I didn’t want to have a random stranger’s baby growing in my belly, didn’t want to be saddled down with responsibility and tied to a man I didn’t even know. What if he didn’t like romantic walks on the beach and candlelit dinners? What if he was a typical workaholic and every night he came home dead tired, after hitting the gym and then collapsed onto the couch with the remote control in his hand?
What if he tried to rein in my freedom?
When the phone rang a couple of hours later, I about jumped out of my skin
