“How did you find out?” I’m not sure if I want to know the answer, but I can’t help myself.
“You know when you first found out that Dalton cheated with her and you told me? Well, one of the nights I stalked her socials. I didn’t follow her or anything, but you know how the algorithm works. Ever since, sometimes her stuff shows up on my feed.” She takes a quick drink before continuing. “I was on break at work, and I was doom scrolling before I finished the last stint. And there it was, right there on my news feed. Chloe got professional announcement photos of theirbun in the oven,” she emphasizes with finger quotes. Evie pushes from the chair, heading toward the couch to get more comfortable with me a few steps behind.
“Show me.” I demand as I grab a throw blanket and toss it over myself, before grabbing a pillow and position it over my stomach. It’s a habit that I do when I’m not feeling completely secure.
Evie grabs her phone and searches up the post. She pauses, placing her phone screen down on her chest. “Are you sure you want to see this?”
“Yes, now let me see!” I say, as my hands open and close in rapid movements. They’re grabby hands to the max. Sighing, she hands it over, and my eyes lock on the page.
My stomach drops.
I thought I knew what I was going to see, but I wasn’t prepared for the jab in my chest. Seeing it is surreal. Painful.
They stand together, in a kitchen that I fantasize about.
The cupboards are stark white, with black matte handles. An industrial steel hood range is in the background above the gas stove. My gaze drifts to the people in the photo.
Dalton is standing behind Chloe, with his arms wrapped around her midsection. He’s looking down at her with a look of adoration on his face. Chloe’s golden locks are perfectly done in a fishtail braid, swooped off over one shoulder. An apron is on her, the tie pulling in her slim, hourglass figure. There’s flour all over her, and Dalton’s hands form a heart over her abdomen.Herbelly.
The one growing a child.
They’re having a baby together.
I’m suddenly numb by the loss of something I thought would be mine.
Dalton and I had talked about having kids together, but we put it on hold while he was getting situated at work. I didn’t mind waiting as I just started up my private editing service and was working to get my name out in the book community. I close my eyes to reign in my emotions before I take another look.
Baby Stanford arriving spring 2025!
“Hold on,” I abruptly say.
“Hold. The. Fuck. On.” I quickly toss Evie back her phone and grab my own. Opening my calendar, I begin doing math. We’re just at the beginning of November, which means Chloe is approximately four months…
This mother fucker got her pregnantin the summer. Which meanshe knew.He knew she was pregnant for at least thelast two months.
“What is it?” Evie asks, “you just got pale there, like someone told you that Santa isn’t real. Or that you were adopted…”
“Did you look at the due date?” I ask her.
“Well, no. I saw that it was 2025 and just assumed it was the summer.” She pauses to unlock her phone. I see her doing the mental math, too. “That piece of shit. He got her pregnant while he was still with you!”
“Yuuup,” is all I can say as I sit there, staring. I’m not fully focusing on the details.
I look up Chloe’s profile. Scrolling through her pictures, from the first glance of her profile, it’s clear she’s someone who posts on social media all the time.
I don’t know what comes over me but I end up looking at every single one of her posts. The perfect candid shots, her perfect blonde hair, and her perfect body.
There’s one of her laying on a boat, soaking in the sun in her tiny little two piece bathing suit. It is a moment I wouldn’t be caught dead in because it would make me look like a beached whale. Scrolling back to the top of her page, I find myself analyzing their pregnancy announcement again. They both seem overjoyed announcing they’re starting a family. Dalton looks down at Chloe so tenderly as she smiles up to him in pure bliss. For a brief moment, I imagine myself in Chloe's position. We had talked about kids over the last two years. Dalton always said it wasn’t the right time, and now I’m questioning the entire thing. Apparently, it wasn’t timing that was off. It was me who wasn’t right.
Insecurities appear in my mind. They begin prickling up my body, pinpointing every part of my body that I love to hate. Without being aware, I’m covering my stomach with the pillow even more as I continue to look through her feed.
No matter how hard I try to work out I just can’t get rid of it. I’ve struggled with my size from a young age. I was bullied, and dealt with boys making fun of me. In middle school, I was the center of dares becausewouldn’t it be hilariousto take me to the dance. I was just a fat girl. My mom did her best, she showed me that every size is beautiful.When I started to really struggle, she got me into therapy. That honestly helped, and I got more confident in myself and my body. I met Dalton and he didn’t care how I looked.
Then, I met his mom.
And we all know how that went. So, seeing him cheat on me and get her pregnant, instantly starting a relationship—a family with her…
Her and her petite figure.
