Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 75: Baby Stuff

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Sarah

The next day, things go from bad to worse.

I hear a sharp knock on my door, and when I open it, Rebecca stands there, her cheeks flushed pink, eyes bright with excitement.

"Oh my god, Sarah, why didn’t you tell me!?" she squeals, pushing past me into the apartment without waiting for an invitation.

I close the door slowly, trying to compose myself.

"What do you mean?" I manage, forcing a smile as I already know what this is about.

Rebecca clasps her hands together, drawing a deep breath. "You are pregnant!" she declares, her voice ringing through my apartment. "How the hell did this happen? I didn’t even realize you slept with Matthew."

That’s because I didn’t.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. "It just happened," I say instead.

Rebecca throws herself onto my couch, kicking off her shoes. "And now you’re getting married! Your mom called me this morning, asking if I’d be your maid of honor. She’s already talking about venues and caterers. She sounded... well, not thrilled, but definitely in full planning mode."

My stomach drops. Of course Mom would call Rebecca. Of course she’s already planning. The Wilson family never lets scandal simmer—they smother it with expensive floral arrangements and champagne fountains.

"It’s all happening so fast," I say, sinking into the armchair across from her.

Rebecca studies me, her excitement dimming slightly. "Are you okay? You don’t seem very... pregnant-happy."

I force a smile. "Just morning sickness. And shock, I guess."

What are you doing, Sarah? A voice asks me somewhere at the back of my mind. Rebecca is your best friend. Tell her the truth.

But I keep my mouth shut because I am a goddamn coward.

"Well, at least Matthew is doing the right thing," she says, pulling out her phone. "Not many men would propose so quickly. Shows character."

Does it? Or does it show a man trapped by obligation?

"Have you set a date yet?" she asks, already scrolling through what looks like wedding venues.

"No, but apparently my mother has ideas," I say, not hiding the bitterness in my tone.

Rebecca laughs. "Don’t be too hard on her."

God, what am I going to do? I can’t fake a pregnancy forever. I can’t walk down the aisle to a man who’s only marrying me because of a baby that doesn’t exist.

"Hey," Rebecca says softly, noticing my expression. "This is a lot, isn’t it?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Do you love him?" she asks.

The question hits me like a slap. Do I? Or do I just want him because he chose Amanda? Because he’s the first man who didn’t immediately fall at my feet?

No, that’s not true. I do love Matthew.

"I do," I whisper.

Rebecca sets her phone down, leaning forward. "Then you should look more excited."

For a moment, I think about telling her everything again. Rebecca would understand. She’s kept my secrets before. But the words stick in my throat.

"We need to go shopping for baby stuff," she chirps.

I only stare at her.

Shopping?

For baby stuff?

Rebecca is beaming with enthusiasm. "You will need a crib, cute little onesies, everything. We should make a whole day of it."

Panic flares in my chest. My hands feel clammy. I can barely think past the tightness in my throat.

I can’t do this.

I can’t walk into a baby store and pretend to be picking out things for a child that doesn’t exist. freёnovelkiss.com

"I—" I clear my throat, forcing out a weak laugh. "I think it’s a little early for that, don’t you? I’m barely a few weeks along."

Rebecca waves a hand. "It’s never too early!"

I grip the armrest of the chair, my nails digging into the fabric. "Maybe next week," I say, my voice light, casual.

Rebecca nods. "Okay. How about next weekend?"

I nod, but my stomach is in knots.

Next weekend.

I have until then to figure out a way out of this.

But could I really get out of this?

The lie is already too big. My mother is planning a wedding. My father has given his blessing.

And now there’s Rebecca, promising baby shopping and nursery colors and god knows what else.

I have until next weekend.

Seven days.

Seven days to fix this before it all comes crashing down.

~-~

But alas, I couldn’t come up with a way to fix anything.

I really am a coward.

Rebecca managed to drag me inside a baby boutique, and now, I am standing in front of a hand-carved crib, feeling like the worst person in the world.

Rebecca, meanwhile, is in full shopping mode. She runs her fingers along tiny knitted blankets, cooing at the impossibly small socks. "Oh my god, Sarah, look at this," she says, holding up a onesie that says Mommy’s Little Miracle in cursive letters.

Miracle.

More like a disaster.

I force a smile, my throat tight. "It’s cute."

Rebecca beams, tossing it into a growing pile of items she’s already decided I need. "You should start thinking about themes. Are you leaning towards something classic? Or maybe modern and minimalist? Oh! What if we do a vintage aesthetic? Think soft pastels and lace."

She’s talking so fast, so enthusiastically, that I can barely process the words. My vision blurs slightly as I stare at the crib in front of me, its delicate carvings taunting me with the life I’m pretending to have.

I grip the edge of it, forcing my breathing to stay even.

I should stop this.

Right now.

But the words won’t come out.

Rebecca turns to me, holding up a tiny stuffed rabbit. "Sarah, what do you think?"

I think I am a terrible person.

I think I am digging myself deeper into a lie I will never escape.

I think I am about to pass out in a damn baby store.

Instead, I take the rabbit from her hands and squeeze it gently, the softness almost painful against my fingertips. "It’s perfect," I whisper.