DOROTHEA

THIRTY-THREE

"A string that pulled me...
Out of all the wrong arms
Right into that dive bar..."

——

"I'm scared, Maeve," Dorothea said, her voice low despite the panic in her tone. "Sophie told him I'm pregnant and now he's going to do everything to find me—"

"And while you're stressing about that, you're missing what's right in front of your damn face," her sister countered. She then stepped closer to her, gesturing towards the other side of the room with her glass. "That woman has been by your side throughout your entire pregnancy. She's stuck by you and loved you enough that she's willing to sacrifice part of herself to your relationship, despite her career. She gave you a job and now a place not only for you to live, but also your child—"

"I know," Dorothea choked. "I'm very aware of the fact that no matter what I do it's never going to be enough. I was aware of that the moment she gave me seven hundred fucking dollars for serving her dinner and a glass of champagne."

"You want to know what's enough?" Maeve challenged. "Focusing on the people that are there every damn day."

"I love her," Dorothea stated, "but I also love my baby. This baby doesn't know that she has a psycho for a father—"

"It doesn't matter, Thea," the older brunette interjected. "For god's sake—Stop looking at a blue sky and expecting it to start pouring!"

"Uh—"

Both of them startled as Dean appeared, holding a festive paper plate in each hand. "So...Something tells me y'all aren't ready for cake, but Ma sent me over here to be the Southern Gentleman I was raised to be..."

"Perfect timing." Dorothea smiled stiffly and thanked him as she took one of the plates, then briskly walked towards the group on the other side of the room. She could feel Maeve's gaze on her back—searing her—when she stopped by her mother and Taylor, who were involved in a lively conversation with a few others. Keeping her back to her sister, she used the plastic fork in her hand to break off a piece of cake and bring it to her lips.

"Thea!—" She nearly choked as her mother whisked her into the circle between her and the singer.

Dorothea was still swallowing the vanilla frosting in her mouth when she looked up at the blonde. Taylor met her eyes and smiled down at her like she was the only person in the room. She suddenly felt sick with guilt, but she forced herself to smile then stepped closer to the blonde.

"We were just talking about you!" Her mother continued. Her cheeks were a light, feathery rose-color and she was holding her flute of Dom as casually as a glass of sweet tea.

When the older woman draped one of her manicured hands on Dorothea's shoulder, it came with an accusatory look. "Dora Jane! I was just told that you've had a name picked out for my granddaughter for months?"

Dorothea suddenly shot her eyes to Taylor, who mouthed a very sincere-looking, Sorry! But her mother finding this out was the least of her concerns. "Well, I don't know about months..." She laughed, her cheeks growing warm.

"For the record, this doesn't surprise me," her mother clarified, turning towards the group. She'd barely had three sips of her drink, from what Dorothea could tell. "You've all come to know my daughter very well, but what you don't know is how much she loves to keep secrets—"

"From certain people," she muttered, immediately feeling a nudge from the singer. She couldn't bring herself to look up at her, but still, it was hard for her not to smile.