She Was Carrying His Baby, So I Left

We were playing Two Truths and a Lie when Cole Bennett raised his glass. "I've slept in Maya's bed. I've watched Maya take a shower. Maya's pregnant with my baby." Everyone pointed at the third statement. So did I. Maya Morgan and I had been together for seven years. She'd always insisted she never wanted children. I'd wanted to be a father once, but I loved her enough to put that dream away. "The second one," Maya said. The entire table fell silent. Cole, her childhood best friend, smiled nervously. "Relax. We used IVF. Nothing happened between us. I just wanted a kid, and Maya offered to carry one." "Just lending him my uterus," Maya added, as casually as if she'd lent him her car. Yesterday's pregnancy test had been positive. The baby would have Cole's last name. Maya wasn't going to raise it. She was merely doing him a favor. Then Cole pulled two certificates from his jacket. He and Maya had quietly married at the courthouse that morning. "The paperwork makes everything easier," he said. "We'll divorce after the baby's born. You and Gavin can get legally married then." We were supposed to have our wedding next month. Maya looked at me. "The ceremony can go ahead. The legal marriage can wait a few months." For seven years, she'd made me wait for the wedding, for a home, for a future. Cole had asked her for a baby and gotten both a child and a marriage license immediately. After the party, Maya drove me home and handed me the prenuptial agreement we'd been discussing. "The lawyer updated it. Sign whenever you're ready." One clause was still there: Both parties voluntarily agree not to have or adopt children. I looked at the pen she'd placed in my hand. She was carrying another man's baby—and still expected me to promise I'd never have one of my own.