Chapter 7: Seven Pounds Two

I read the comments sitting on the floor of Shane's guest room.

"Gold digger with a baby as a shield. Classic."

"The best friend?? Poor Dalton."

"She looks like she hasn't showered in a week. The money clearly didn't go on her."

That one had four hundred likes.

Marissa had tagged Sumner Freight. Sumner Freight's own account had liked it.

Ingrid had shared it.

"Heartbroken."

I scrolled until my thumb hurt.

Shane knocked on the open door with two mugs of coffee.

He saw my face and set one down beside me.

"Don't read that."

"Everyone I've ever baked a cake for is reading it."

He sat on the floor next to me with his back against the bed.

He held out his hand for my phone.

I gave it to him. He turned it face down on the carpet.

"When was Poppy's last checkup?" he asked.

"Her two-week."

"She's seven weeks."

"The six-week one got canceled. The clinic said the insurance was on hold."

He was quiet.

"Who pays the insurance, Lainey?"

I didn't have to answer.

"I'm taking her in this morning," he said. "The pediatrician at our clinic owes me a favor."

The clinic at St. Brendan's had yellow walls and a fish tank.

The pediatrician was a small, brisk woman with gray locs and reading glasses.

She laid Poppy on the scale.

She looked at the number. She looked at it again.

"What was her birth weight?"

"Seven pounds even."

"She's seven pounds two ounces."

I didn't understand at first.

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