Emmeline snorts. “Last time I checked, babies weren’t made of foam, and pregnant women don't drink vodka.”
Anger rises in me and I lash out at Tiffany. “How were you even planning on pulling this off? Didn’t you think I was going to get suspicious when you gave birth to a doll?”
She gives a sniff. “You owed me.”
Unbelievable. I run my hand through my hair. “Owed you what?”
She gives a shrug. “I don’t know. A condo? A car? Something.”
Emmeline’s face pales. “You faked…a pregnancy…to get a car?”
Tiffany gives a roll of her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I was just doing what I needed to do to get my man back.”
“How’d that work out for you?” I raise my brows. “I made it clear, I was never getting back with you. Why didn’t you give up on it, then? Why keep this ruse up if you knew I didn’t want to be with you?”
“I couldn’t give it up. I was so far in, I just figured I only had to catch you in a moment of weakness, or get you drunk enough to cave, just once. Get you to sleep with me so there’d be a real baby. Then I could stop faking and you’d have to take care of me for real.”
I run a hand through my hair. Can this really be happening? It’s so fucking crazy. “And the paternity test?”
Is that finally a glimmer of remorse in her eyes?
She looks away, exhaling a long breath. I don’t know if it's the vodka or the embarrassment of being caught, but she finally lets the whole truth free. “I set it all up, okay? I have this friend, Melissa, from Georgia, whose asshole boyfriend also broke up with her around the same time you broke up with me. We made a pact, to help one another seek revenge and get our men back. She set up the whole stupid paternity test thing. Got me this foam baby. Once I got you to really get me pregnant, we were going to Alabama to blackmail her man.”
“Well, your friend got sloppy and posted a pic of you dancing, no belly. And let me guess, the drinks and partying were on my dime? Weren’t they? You two need to cut this shit out and move on with your lives.” I give a disgusted shake of my head. Then I remember where I’ve seen Melissa before. “You had her deliver the fake papers, didn’t you? Shit, Tiffany, that’s got to be illegal.”
She gives a sniff. “I don’t know about illegal…we had a hookup, someone that took your blood, then,” she gives pause, her face turning white as she processes the severity of her actions, “ah...actually, let’s move on.”
“This whole thing...the plotting, the planning, it’s…sick. You need help.” Emmeline doesn’t say it as an accusation, just an observation. “I can find someone for you to talk to. To help you.”
“Ugh. I don’t need your help.” Tiffany shoves her hands under her top and there’s the sound of Velcro ripping. She tugs a skin-toned foam belly from beneath her shirt, holding it up and shaking it. “My plan would have worked if it wasn’t for you.”
My stomach turns. I can’t believe I ever dated her, I can’t believe even she would try to pull something like this off. “Tiffany, Emmeline’s right. You need help. Regardless, don’t come near either one of us again unless you want to be behind bars.”
“Whatever.” She tosses the belly at me. It hits my shoulder and falls to the ground. “Good luck, you two. You deserve one another.” She stomps away from us.
I stand staring after her. Am I really off the hook? Is my future now free and clear to be with the woman I love, no attachments to my past?
It almost seems too good to be true, but then I feel Emmeline squeeze my hand. She gives me a soft smile. “All’s well that ends well, I guess?”
But it hasn’t ended.
Because I haven’t yet made her forever mine. “Let’s go home.”
The moment we step inside my apartment and close that door, I drop to one knee.
“Rawley?” Her brow knits, those gorgeous green eyes stare down at me.
“I know this isn’t a fancy date, or a romantic place, but I can’t wait another moment.” I grab her hand in mine. “Emmeline, will you marry me?”
Her hand goes to her mouth as she gives a gasp of surprise. Tears shine in her eyes and she nods emphatically. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
I slip my hand in my suit jacket. Just before I stepped out of my apartment, I saw that damn little red box that was plaguing me and for no other reason than sheer hope, I’d grabbed it, sliding it in the pocket of my coat.
Now, I flip open the lid, holding the ring up to her for her approval.