26

"But what are you saying?" I raise an eyebrow.

"You love him. That's what I'm saying. And I think it's very cowardly of you not to have told him about his child."

"Hmm, interesting. Axel thinks the same."

"Then I like Axel," she smiles.

I watch as she takes a sip of her coffee, still with a smile on her lips. I lick my lips, looking away at another table as an excuse.

Axel wasn't angry, no.

But he was disappointed, even though he remained the best friend I could have. He was disappointed.

I wish he understood my fear of telling Arthur this. I wish they understood that I can't let him take my child away from me.

I can't lose him too.

"I told him it was Axel's," I start coughing.

This time it's her who seems to choke when she coughs. I fan her with my hands and smile uncomfortably as people's eyes turn toward us. I'm grateful that this café isn't so well-known, or we would be surrounded by reporters.

"Damn it, Michy," I raise an eyebrow.

Michy? Where did that come from?

"Why are you calling me like I'm a cat?"

"It's a nickname, honey. Relax, and why and how did you come up with telling him that?"

I exhale, adjust my hidden rear in a pair of slim dress pants on the chair, and finish my juice under her attentive gaze. I lick my lips with a disgusted expression.

"I was nervous. And scared," I confess. She rests her elbows on the table, attentive to my words. "He had his eyes on me, his beautiful and precious blue eyes..."

"Go to the less cheesy part, please," she requests, causing me to laugh with amusement. "Go on, honey."

I bite my lower lip.

I didn't have a clear answer, I just said it. Maybe my nerves heightened when I saw him there and...

"I was scared. That's the truth. Arthur is very unpredictable, I don't know what he's thinking most of the time, and I feared that if he found out the truth, even knowing that he doesn't want children, he would take him away from me..." I swallow hard.

I feel her sigh, and in a few seconds, she's by my side, holding my hand. Her skin color is different, she looks much tanner and flawless. I raise my gaze, meeting those gray and completely shimmering eyes looking at me with compassion mixed with tenderness.

"I have only one question for you, darling," I hope she tells me as I wipe my cheeks. "Do you think Arthur is capable of doing that?"

The question leaves me stunned for several seconds, which I dedicate to searching for answers. And I can only conclude that I didn't know Arthur Müller.

I only know the cold and ruthless man with his rivals that the press portrays in its magazines.

For a whole year, I only knew the passionate, tormented, and distant Arthur.

Only that.

I could never go further, I could never get closer to him. If I say that I know him, it would be in the most superficial way possible. I don't even know the reason for his nightmares or why he proposed that deal to me in the first place.

I know nothing about him.

"I can't answer that," I mutter foolishly. "I don't know him well enough."

A triumphant smile settles on her lips, which provokes a low sob from me that I try to hide with a light chuckle.

"You've been unfair, Michelle Stone."

I clench my fists, lowering my gaze. I feel her arms embrace me weakly, and her lips release whispers to calm me. I could hear her, but my mind was fixated on Arthur's face in that hospital room.

He looked so hurt. As if he had just been given the worst news of his life. And don't even get me started on the expression he showed when I told him the baby was Axel's.

I thought I saw hope leave his eyes.

"I didn't give him a chance, did I?"

"Do you want the truth?" she interrogates in my ear. I nod, holding onto her embrace. "You didn't give each other a chance. None of you did, and because of that mistake, you could lose each other. Avoid it, Michelle."

I was about to ask her how to do that, but the pain in my belly only made me move away from her, crouching down and holding it. I started breaking into a cold sweat within minutes—contractions.

"Michelle," she calls. "How can I help you? What should I do?"

I shake my head, remembering the breathing exercises the doctor told me to do. The contractions last a few seconds during which I focus on breathing properly and calming Frida, who keeps shouting at the waiters to bring water and call a doctor.

The pain is damn strong, but I try to endure it somehow and stay calm. Half the time, I fail.

"Frida, I'm fine," I say as best I can. "They're just contractions."

I make her sit with me while I inhale and exhale aggressively, still feeling dizzy from the pain.

"Is that normal?" she asks with a horrified expression. "I thought you were dying."

"It's normal," I let out a laugh. She brings me a glass of water when she notices I want it and takes care of giving it to me. "Thank you."

She sighs, pushing her red hair away from her still worried and tense face.

"I don't want to have children."

I furrow my eyebrows, then realize that maybe she says that because she's seen me in that state before, and I start laughing. She joins me with a tense laugh that later becomes lighter.

"It has its drawbacks, but it's the most beautiful thing in life."

I tilt my head, smiling at her. She nods, clearing her throat, and despite that, I decide not to tell her more.

"Will you tell him?"

I bite my cheek, twisting my lip. I haven't seen him in weeks, Christmas is approaching, and I don't want to spend it far from him, even though.

"I don't know. I have to think about it," I end the conversation. "What about my brother?"

She presses her lips together and proceeds to sit properly in her chair. Her change in posture makes me squint with curiosity. I caress my huge seven-month belly, analyzing it with intrigue, searching for any sign that tells me what's going on.

"We're doing fine. I managed to get the judge to reopen his case and investigate further. I've been appealing for possible bail while they investigate," I lean closer to the table, aware of what that means. Frida looks at me with a slight grimace as she tells me the following, "I have to tell you that we might be talking about a large sum of money for his bail, not to mention the responsibilities and duties he'll have to fulfill if I succeed."

I squeal, taking her hand.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! Money is not a problem, I assure you. Just bring him back to me."

Frida brings her hand to my cheek, wiping away any traces of tears I've shed. She gently squeezes my hands as I cry softly upon hearing the news that I might be able to see him again. To hug him again.

"It's not certain, darling. Please don't get your hopes up. I'm just letting you know so you can be prepared, but it's not certain," I nod.

I'm not getting my hopes up, but I could already see myself on cloud nine with the news.

"That's fine. That's fine."

Whispering, I indulge in fantasizing about novelty and talking about various things with Frida. When it's time to leave, we exit the place laughing like two teenagers. She stops at her car to search for her keys, and I simply accompany her, or well, wait, as she will give me a ride home.

"I hope it's just my imagination, but I've noticed those three guys behind us all afternoon," she comments, furrowing her confused eyebrows. "They're behind you, pretend to look away."

I try, pretending to stretch, and as I lower my arms, I accidentally hit her hand, causing her bag to fall. She looks at me surprised, and I just press my lips together and shrug, saying it was the only thing I could think of.

As I try to get out to help her, I do it at the speed of a turtle, looking over my shoulder and noticing the three guys dressed in ordinary clothes but with a straight posture. I grimace, completely disoriented.

They are at a considerable distance, but their figures draw a lot of attention, and I don't say that just because they're attractive. It's because they look overly serious.

"They're good-looking."

"And strange," she comments to me.

She finally finds the keys and proceeds to open the back door for me. Before getting in, I pretend to fix the collar of her coat to ask her something. The fabric is soft against my fingers, just like the faint scent emanating from her body. I look into her eyes.

"Do you think they're following us?"

"They have been since I went to your apartment to pick you up," she assures.

And I trust her word. I nod, feeling a bit panicked. I don't think they're reporters looking for a new scandal, although I believed those people were capable of anything to get a scoop.