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Chapter Thirteen

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Betty Ingrid

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“HOW ARE WE FEELING, Ms. Ingrid? Has your husband been by to see you?”

“My husband?”

“Yes, Mr. Jameson. I must say, he looked more than a little surprised when I mentioned the baby. I think I owe you him an apology on that one. Sometimes I get ahead of myself. One never knows what goes on between couples, does one?”

Betty stared up at Doctor Wells and struggled to understand what he was saying. She understood that she was pregnant. The doctor had removed whatever small hope she'd had left that maybe she was only jumping at shadows. She'd been in and out of consciousness since being delivered to the hospital by a very concerned Matt and Zach, and her take on what had been going on was foggy at best. She didn't know how long she had been in the hospital, let alone whether or not anyone had been to visit her. Her heart first leaped with pleasure to hear that Zach had been there at all, then immediately plummeted when she realized what must have happened. She could see it now when she closed her eyes, much as she wished not to. He had spoken to the doctor. She knew that much from what Dr. Wells just told her, and she would have assumed he would do something like that even if she'd had nothing to go on but her own imagination. Zach wasn't the kind of man to sit back and wait. He was exactly the kind of man who would demand information whether it was his right to have it or not. Not to mention the doctor thought the two of them were married. So he had spoken to the doctor, learned that she was pregnant, and fled.

"Of course he did," she whispered to herself as the doctor, oblivious to what was actually going on with his patient, exited stage left. What else could she expect him to do, at the end of the day? What could she expect him to do, really? It wasn't as if the two of them were a legitimate couple. It was all for show, and hadn't she been the one to make sure that was all there was between them? The stupid agreement was like a brick wall between them and one she had built with her own two hands. She had put herself squarely off limits and then been stupid enough to go and fall in love with him. Before this she would have laughed at anyone who said falling in love in a matter of months was even possible but now she knew. It was more than possible; it was happening to her and all after she had made sure she would never have a real chance. Now, to add insult to injury, there was a baby coming, and he would never look at her the same way again.

“Hey, Betty. Is it alright if I come in?”

She glanced up and saw Zach standing in the doorway, looking in on her like she had spontaneously developed into a different species overnight. Something inside of her chest clenched when she saw the way he was looking at her. It was different. The way he was looking at her now that he knew she was pregnant was different than it had been before, and she knew, just knew, that it would never go back to the way it was before.

“Of course you can,” she answered with as calm a voice as she was able, “although what I would really like is for you to get me out of here.”

“Come on,” he smiled, “it’s not that bad, is it? It’s one of the best hospitals in the city.”

“I know, that’s what I’m worried about.”

“The cost? You don’t need to worry about that. I’m going to take care of everything.”

"Of course you are," she muttered, whether to herself or to him she wasn't quite sure. She had no right to be angry that he would pay for her hospital bills, especially when she wouldn't be able to pay for them herself. In truth, it was at the situation rather than at him, but it was easier to have a person to direct it towards. A person was something she could lash out at. A situation, her current one, in particular, wasn't nearly so easy to fight.

“Hey, can we talk?” His voice was gentle, almost like he was afraid. It surprised Betty enough that she nodded her agreement and said nothing when he sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand.

"I was going to tell you. I promise I was. I didn’t at first because I didn’t know, not for sure, and then I just didn't know how." Her voice was terribly small and hearing it made her want to cry. He squeezed her hand, and she looked up, pitifully thankful to see no anger.

“It’s okay. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to try and deliver information like that when you’re in a situation like ours. But you don’t need to worry.”

“I don’t? How do you figure?” She laughed bitterly.

"Because. I'm going to make it right. I want you to marry me, Betty. We can get married, and we'll raise the baby together. We'll be our own little family."

She stared at him, uncomprehending. In a million scenarios in a million different worlds, never would she have imagined him responding to her like this. Her whole body felt cold, and when she opened her mouth to speak, it felt as if her tongue was made out of lead.

“Are you kidding me? That’s what you have to say?”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand. I thought it was a good thing,” he asked, his head angled to one side in confusion.

“Of course you did,” she said coldly.

“Because it is. It would fix everything. And the baby would never have to worry about anything. He–”

“How do you know it’s a boy?” she broke in. When he continued to speak it was as if he hadn’t heard her at all.

“He would grow up with automatic good standing in this world. That’s something no amount of money can buy. Think about it, Betty.”

And she did. In many ways he was right. If the two of them got married, her baby would never have to know the kind of life she had grown up with. Her baby would never worry about where the next meal would come from or whether or not college was even a possibility. She wouldn't have to worry about money anymore, either, and Zach would be able to put the Lucille nightmare behind him. A marriage would do a whole handful of good things, and she would never deny it. The only problem was she was falling in love with him and yet to him she was nothing more than a business prospect. That was all this was. It was another business prospect and if she agreed it would be no better than selling her soul.

“We aren’t living in a Jane Austen novel, Zach.”

“Of course not. I know that.”

“I don’t think you do. If you did, you would never have made that proposal.”

“I–”

"I want you to go." The words sounded dead, and she couldn't make herself look him in the eye. If she did, she would cave and do what he asked. She was afraid it would be the worst mistake of her life.

“Betty, please.”

“I’m serious, Zach. I want you to go. Right now.”

He remained where he was for a moment, and to Betty, it felt like an eternity. Finally, Zach sighed and rose heavily from his place by her side. She almost broke and called out to him. She could tell him it was a mistake, she was sorry, and could he just forget she'd ever said anything at all? He would do it, too. She knew that he would do it. It was part of what made it so important for her to remain silent. It wasn't until he was gone from the room that she started to cry.