At 8:45 Wednesday morning, I was sitting outside a women’s health clinic with my heart pounding over a baby that, as far as I knew, might change the rest of my life. Forty-five minutes later, I learned there was no baby, no appointment, and apparently no limit to how cruel the woman I loved was willing to be for a joke.
Chapter 2
The restaurant was crowded when I arrived shortly after ten. Through the front window, I could see Natalie and Eric in a corner booth, still laughing as if humiliating me had turned into the best entertainment either of them had enjoyed in months. She looked perfectly healthy, perfectly relaxed, and not remotely like a woman who had spent the previous night sobbing about an unplanned pregnancy.
I took one more screenshot before going inside.
The hostess smiled.
“Table for one?”
“I’m meeting somebody.”
I pointed.
Natalie noticed me when I was about ten feet from the booth.
Watching her expression change was almost fascinating.
First surprise.
Then fear.
Then, for just a second, excitement.
That was what hurt most. Some part of her seemed thrilled that her little game had produced an even bigger scene than she expected.
Eric leaned back and looked me over.
“So this is the boyfriend.”
I stopped beside the table.
Natalie immediately spoke.
“Ryan, wait. This isn’t what it looks like.”
“I saw your story.”
The color drained from her face.
“Oh.”
Eric gave a short laugh.
Natalie glared at him.
“It was a joke.”
“A joke.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“You told me you were pregnant.”
Her eyes darted toward nearby tables.
“Can we not do this here?”
“You picked the location.”
“I didn’t tell you to come here.”
“No. You told me to go to a clinic.”
Eric laughed again.
“Man, she really got you good.”
I looked at him.
He stopped laughing.
Natalie reached for my hand.
I stepped back.
“I needed to know you cared,” she said.
“You needed to know I cared?”
“You’ve felt distant lately.”
For a moment, I thought I had misheard her.
“I’ve been distant?”
“I just felt like something was changing between us.”
“You’re the one coming home after midnight. You’re the one hiding your phone. You’re sitting here drinking with your ex.”
“We’re friends.”
“Apparently.”
She wiped at her eyes.
Tears had appeared remarkably fast.
“I know it was stupid, okay? I panicked. I started thinking maybe if something serious happened, you wouldn’t show up for me. Eric said—”
She stopped.
There it was.
I looked at Eric.
He suddenly became very interested in his drink.
“Eric said what?”
Natalie shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“No, finish the sentence.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
She pressed her lips together.
Eric sighed.
“It was just conversation, man. She said she wasn’t sure how serious you were. I told her sometimes you have to find out.”
I stared at him.
“You suggested she fake a pregnancy?”
“I didn’t say pregnancy specifically.”
Natalie snapped, “Eric.”
“What? You dragged me into it.”
Their little alliance was already cracking.
I almost laughed.
Instead, I took out my phone.
Natalie looked at the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Showing you something.”
I opened the email my landlord had sent while I was driving.
“What is that?”
“Notice that your approved occupancy is being terminated.”
Her confusion deepened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you have thirty days to move out.”
She stared at me.
“You can’t do that.”
“I can. You’re an authorized occupant, not a leaseholder. I confirmed it this morning.”
“Ryan.”
“You have until the fifteenth.”
Her tears became real.
“Where am I supposed to go?”
I looked toward Eric.
“Maybe your friend can help.”
Eric immediately raised both hands.
“Don’t put me in this.”
Natalie turned on him.
“Seriously?”
“What? I’ve got roommates.”
I almost admired the efficiency of it.
The man willing to help her test my loyalty suddenly had no room for her when consequences arrived.
“You’re throwing me out over one stupid joke?” Natalie said.
“You made me believe you were pregnant.”
“I apologized.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I’m sorry!”
“You’re sorry because I found you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I took a day off work. I drove to a clinic. I spent the entire night wondering whether I was about to become a father. I wondered what you wanted, what I wanted, whether we could afford a child, whether we were ready to get married, whether I could support you if you decided you couldn’t go through with the pregnancy.”
Her face crumpled.
I continued.
“And while I was doing that, you were planning brunch.”
“I didn’t think you’d take it this seriously.”
I stared at her.
She had somehow found the only sentence capable of making the situation worse.
“I’m done.”
“Ryan, please.”
“Your things will be packed. I’ll arrange a time for you to collect them.”
“You’re really ending fourteen months over this?”
“No.”
She blinked.
“I’m ending fourteen months because the person I thought I was dating doesn’t exist.”
I walked out.
Nobody followed me.
When I reached my apartment, the silence hit harder than I expected.
Natalie’s shoes were by the door. Her sweater hung over the dining chair. A half-used bottle of expensive shampoo sat in the bathroom. A framed photograph of the two of us from a weekend in Ocean City stood on the bookshelf.
Everything looked normal.
That almost broke me.
I called Tom and told him the emergency had been resolved. He let me work remotely for the rest of the afternoon.
At four, Natalie started calling.
At first, the messages were apologetic.
Please answer.
I’m so sorry.
I know I messed up.
Please don’t throw everything away.
Then, when I didn’t respond, her tone changed.
You’re overreacting.
This is insane.
You’re punishing me over one mistake.
By evening, she had reached anger.
My friends think you’re being cruel.
I muted her number.
The next day, her mother called.
I had met Linda only three times. She had always been warm with me, though fiercely protective of Natalie.
“I’m trying to understand what’s happening,” she said. “Natalie says you’re suddenly kicking her out over a misunderstanding.”
“With respect, ma’am, it wasn’t a misunderstanding.”
“What happened?”
“Did she tell you she was pregnant?”
Silence.
“No.”
I told Linda everything.
I told her about the message, the crying, the clinic, the fake appointment, the Instagram video, and the brunch with Eric.
When I finished, there was a long pause.
“She did what?”
Her voice had changed completely.
“I didn’t know any of that.”
“I figured you didn’t.”
“She told me you became jealous because she had breakfast with Eric.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“No,” Linda said quietly. “It certainly isn’t.”
To my surprise, she apologized.
“I’m sorry she did this to you.”
“Thank you.”
“I need to speak to my daughter.”
I thought that might calm things down.
Instead, on Friday evening, someone knocked on my door.
I checked the peephole.
Eric stood in the hallway.
I opened the door but left the security chain attached.
“What do you want?”
He gave me the expression men sometimes use when they want to appear reasonable without actually accepting responsibility.
“Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Come on, man. I think we got off wrong.”
“There is no ‘we.’”
He sighed.
“Natalie’s freaking out.”
“That’s between you and Natalie.”
“She says you’re making her homeless.”
“She has thirty days.”
“She can’t afford a place on her own.”
“Then maybe she can live with you.”
He laughed nervously.
“We’re not like that.”
I looked at him.
“You’re having brunch together while she humiliates me online, but you’re not close enough for a couch?”
“That’s different.”
“Apparently.”
I started closing the door.
He put his hand against it.
My voice dropped.
“Take your hand off my door.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“You have five seconds.”
Something in my face must have convinced him.
He removed his hand.
“You’re cold, man.”
“Good night, Eric.”
I shut the door and locked it.
I thought that was the lowest point.
Three mornings later, my phone rang at work.
Human Resources.
