Madeline Brooks was everything I wasn’t—tall where I was average height, polished where I felt perpetually frazzled, perfectly put together even in the middle of what should have been a crisis.
She wore designer jeans that probably cost more than my monthly rent and a silk blouse that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves despite the mascara streaked dramatically down her face.
She pointed at my baby with a perfectly manicured finger, her arm shaking with emotion, and screamed at the top of her lungs: “THAT BABY IS RUINING MY LIFE!”
Every nurse in the hallway turned to stare. My mother stood up so fast she knocked over her chair, the clatter adding to the chaos. I instinctively pulled my daughter’s bassinet closer to my bed, a protective gesture I didn’t even think about.
Security appeared in the doorway almost immediately, their hands moving to their radios. But Ethan raised a trembling hand toward them.
“Give us a minute,” he said, his voice hoarse and strained.
Madeline let out a hysterical laugh that bordered on a shriek. “A minute? You promised me there was no baby! You said she was lying about being pregnant! You swore to me that you’d checked, that you’d verified, that this wasn’t something we’d have to deal with!”
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