Chapter 49

Ally

I followed Matthew’s wake of overpowering Ralph Lauren, dropping the rolling pin in the sink on my path through to the front. The bell tinkled and the door slammed, announcing his departure.

I sniffed and walked into the front section of my bakery. The counters glistened, reflecting the lights overhead. I blinked in the brightness and allowed my eyes to adjust.

“How could you do this?” Faith yelled. She leaned heavily on my cupcake counter, a winded ox of a woman. Her fiery hair was a mess, specked with snowflakes and sticking out at odd angles.

“You don’t look your best,” I remarked. “Can I help you with something?”

I spied my cell next to the cash register and inched towards it, giving the angry pregnant woman a wide berth.

“You did this. You ruined everything! The plan was perfect, life would’ve been perfect, but then you came into the picture and fucked it up. You’re a horrid slut.” She words dripped with venom from her viper fangs.

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. Do enlighten me,” I said, grasping my cell and unlocking it to dial the cops. She was desperate and desperate women did desperate things. There was no telling how far this one would go.

I restrained a gasp. Shit, Gabe had called me twice.

“You told him to get the paternity test. You told him to call off the engagement.” She pointed a finger, tipped in a talon painted magenta. Her stomach strained against the chiffon blouse she’d chosen for the confrontation.

“I told him to do what was best for everyone involved and get a test done. The engagement was his idea.” She was so angry. It couldn’t be about the empty ring finger on her left hand. Could that mean—?

“You ruined it. I was going to marry him, give birth to Donny’s baby and we’d be happy. A happy family. Just the four of us.”

“The four of you?” I mentally gagged at that. Donny’s baby? “Holy shit, Donovan Moreno is the father of your child?”

Her face went through a dozen emotions before settling back on pissed. “Yes,” she hissed, “and I’m proud of it. This child will inherit the future. I’ll have everything. Everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Except you won’t have Gabe.

“And you called me a slut,” I said, unable to keep the scorn from my tone. She was an objectionable slime ball and she deserved Donovan Moreno. How could he have done this to his son? He didn’t deserve to be the father of any child. I felt waves of empathy and sadness for the unborn son in Faith’s uterus. That poor kid didn’t even have a chance.

“It wasn’t my idea to involve Gabe, though honestly, I would’ve welcomed a marriage to him. He’s got the biggest—”

“That’s enough.” I cut her off before she said something we would both regret.

“That’s one area where Gabe has his father beat. Hands down. Donovan wanted to trick him into the wedding. He was afraid of what it would mean for the future. But you… you destroyed everything,” she whispered, raising a bloated forefinger again. “Donovan wants to distance himself now. He thinks that his son abandoning me will look better than him marrying his son’s ex-girlfriend.”

“Pregnant ex-girlfriend,” I added helpfully. “And surrogate daughter. Of his number one business associate.” A smidgen of pity wormed into my chest. She was pregnant and now she felt alone. But she’d worked so hard to destroy my relationship with Gabe for her selfish reasons.

She’s wretched, I thought, but she can’t help it.

“What do I do now?” Faith grasped the edge of my glass countertop, visibly shaking, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. Her mascara ran. She was an ugly crier. “What the fuck do I do now? My father will disown me. I’ll have nowhere to live. My son,” she paused and choked between sobs, “my son won’t have a future.”

The baby. He was innocent. He hadn’t asked for any of this.

“Your son doesn’t need to be a billionaire to have a future,” I replied.

Faith panted, in and out, gripping her forehead and sliding her hand down to cover her eyes. “I can’t do this on my own. I can’t be a single mother.”

“Hey, look,” I said, gripping my phone and circling to her side of the counter, “it won’t be that bad. You’ll have help. I’m sure your father wouldn’t give up on his legacy. I mean, that’s his grandson.”

Faith looked up at me, dropping her hand to her distended belly. “He’s kicking,” she whimpered, “hard.”

“You need to calm down, okay?” I walked closer and she hissed at me. I halted, then cleared my throat. “I know you don’t like me. I’m your worst enemy or whatever, but I’m just trying to help you now. You should sit down.”

“You? Help me?” Faith pinched her blouse between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it from her skin, then released. “I’m the one who could help you. You’re nothing. You’re just some base chick who bakes for a living.”

She was overwrought. She needed to calm down, so I couldn’t begrudge her the bitchy comments.

“You need to sit down, Faith.” I gestured to the same chair she’d graced the first time she’d come here.

“I don’t need your help,” she replied, but this time it was accompanied with a pained groan. She stumbled. “He’s kicking so hard.”

“Shit,” I said. There was a puddle of water at her feet, spreading beneath the hem of the open trench she’d worn over her jeans.

“What the fuck?” Faith blinked at it, then doubled over with a cry.

Just perfect. I rolled my eyes at the ceiling, then raised my cell and dialed 911.

“You’re in labor,” I said, “I’m calling an ambulance.”

Faith stumbled to a chair and sat down, gasping and moaning. “He’s just kicking.”

“Stop being a stubborn fool,” I snapped.

I stood beside the counter, watching her while I made the call. She panted through the contractions, letting out a low shriek at one point. I hung up a few moments later.

“The ambulance is on its way and they’ll take you to the hospital. You and the baby will be just fine,” I said, walking up to her. She didn’t lash out — apparently, the pain of labor had overthrown her deep hatred for me.

Faith snatched at my hand and held it tight. She squeezed through another contraction and I yelped along with her. The woman had the grip of a pro-wrestler.

“How much longer?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Soon, Faith. They’ll be here soon.”

The sound of a siren approached and the ambulance skidded around the corner and came to a halt in front of the bakery a few seconds later. Medics poured out of it. Okay, there were just two, but it was a flood of relief to me. They entered the bakery with a stretcher.

“She’s over here,” I said. The stress had pushed Faith into early labor, and I couldn’t help feeling guilty about it.

They helped her onto a stretcher with soothing words and blood pressure checks. It kind of reminded me of the night I’d met Gabe, with the bakery on fire and the ambulance outside.

I sighed, ready to dust off my hands after a hard day’s work.

Faith grabbed me by the apron. “Don’t leave me.”

“W-what?” I stammered.

“I told you, I don’t have anyone. I need your—” she broke off to swallow her pride this time. “I need your help, Allegra.”

It was the first time she’d ever called me by my name.

I looked down at her, covered in sweat, tears streaming down her sticky cheeks. She was at her worst and I wasn’t the kind of person to kick her when she was down. That wasn’t the kind of woman my mother had raised. Regardless of her current residence.

I patted her arm. “I won’t leave you.”