The Trap (Trapped Prequel)

Chapter 7

I don’t know how I survived the next week. I kept thinking Mitch would call, that he would come by and apologize.

Instead there was nothing. Not a call or a text. Not a single word.

My mom has played Switzerland since I told her about our latest drama. Although it looks like Mitch has pretty much abandoned me—something I’m still trying to wrap my head around—she hasn’t said a bad word about him. I think she figured out that I’m the one who screwed up. I’m just relieved she hasn’t come right out and asked me. I don’t know, maybe she thinks what’s the point in dredging up something we can’t change.

Erin, on the other hand, cursed up a blue streak; Mitch being on the receiving end of that, of course. She gets why he’s angry but essentially accusing me of cheating went over the line as far as she’s concerned. I’m pretty sure there’s a story behind it—one she won’t talk about—but the whole paternity test thing is definitely one of her triggers. 

Today makes it three weeks since the big blow up and I can’t take the waiting anymore. I can’t stand not knowing what he’s thinking. Are we truly over?

Which is why I’m here, standing nervously in front of his door. A queasy stomach doesn’t help my nerves any, but I managed to down six crackers this morning and a cup of hot chocolate. I pray my breakfast won’t make a reappearance.

My heart is hammering in my throat upon hearing footsteps and then the slight rattle of the knob before the door opens.

I’m rendered speechless at the sight of Mitch’s sister. We both stare at one another in surprise.

Diane’s hair is blonder than her brother’s, her eyes are a darker shade of green, but the siblings share a very strong resemblance. At five foot nine in her stocking feet, I still have to look up at her when I’m wearing my three-inch heels. In my flat leather flip-flops, it’s a far way up.

“Hi, Paige. I’m—I mean this is a surprise.”

Is it?

I wonder what Mitch has told her. Does she know about the baby?

“Hi,” I say weakly. “Is Mitch home?” His car isn’t parked in the driveway but sometimes he parks it in the three-car garage.

Diane’s brow lightly crinkles as she continues to stare at me, looking more confused than ever.

“Sweetie, Mitch went back to New York two weeks ago. I thought you knew,” she says, her tone full of sympathy.

 Gone.

Mitch went back to New York.

“Oh. No, I didn’t know. I-I—we haven’t spoken in a couple weeks.” I sound dazed, not quite with it.

Diane reaches out to touch my arm. “Why don’t you come in and sit down?” she asks gently as if realizing what the news has done to me.

I shake my head. I don’t want to sit down. I just want to go home to my room and curl up on my bed until this whole thing is over.

“No, I’m fine. I didn’t think he was going back so soon,” I say in a pathetic attempt to save face.

She awkwardly withdraws her arm. “He told me you guys broke up. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but I want you to know that I’m always here if you want to talk.”

He told me you guys broke up.

Wow, I guess that answers my question. We’re done. I’m pregnant and he’s gone.

I force a smile that challenges my facial muscles. “Thanks, Diane, I appreciate the offer.”

By the expression on her face, I can tell she knows I’ll never take her up on it. You don’t break up with someone and keep in contact with their closest relative. And the baby—well if he didn’t see fit to tell her about it, I’m not going to.