Chapter 12: Torn

Willa's POV

The knocking started at nine at night and did not stop.

"Willa." Dalton's voice came through the door, slurred and warm. "Willa, please. Just let me talk to you."

Yvette had her arms folded in the hall.

Posy sat on the couch with her knees drawn up and a blanket around her shoulders.

"I'll handle it," I said.

"You'll stay in the kitchen," Yvette said. "The doctor said no arguing."

"She said no running."

"I'm adding arguing."

I opened the door anyway, with the chain on.

Dalton stood on the mat in yesterday's shirt.

His tie was gone and his eyes were red.

He smelled like whiskey and the cologne I had bought him for his birthday.

"Hi," he said quietly. "You look tired."

"I'm pregnant. What do you want?"

"I want to say I'm sorry." He pressed his forehead against the doorframe.

"I know how it looks. I was scared of losing my family, so I made a mess. But it was never about you."

"It was never about me."

"It was never real. It was just paper, Willa."

There it was again.

He said it softly.

I unhooked the chain.

Yvette made a small noise behind me.

I stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed so Posy would not have to hear.

"Paper," I said.

"I swear on the baby."

"Don't swear on the baby."

He lifted both palms.

"Okay. But you know me. You know I would never hurt you on purpose."

I opened my bag.

Yvette had made photocopies of the certificate at the hospital, a stack of six, and I had kept one in my purse.

I took it out and held it between my hands.

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