Chapter 28

It was nice for Clarke to be able to just sit in the passenger's seat on the way to her dad's, especially since it was snowing pretty steadily and she wasn't the best at driving in any sort of inclement weather. Usually when she went to Baltimore to see him, she went alone, so she had to drive. Finn had gone with her once, but he'd been hungover, so she'd still ended up behind the wheel. But with Bellamy driving, she was able to doze off a little bit in the passenger's seat. Or, "resting her eyes," as she liked to call it.

Bellamy must not have known that she was trying to snooze, because at one point when they were still about an hour and a half away, he turned down the radio and asked her, "So why exactly did your mom and dad get a divorce?"

She lifted her head from where it rested against the window and looked over at him, surprised by the question.

"You don't have to tell me," he said. "I'm just curious."

That divorce was a pretty long story, one she wasn't about to rehash in detail. So instead she summed it up with, "Things just . . . deteriorated. They weren't seeing eye to eye on some stuff. Eventually, they just decided they were better off going their separate ways."

"Huh. I never would've pictured that," he said as he changed lanes to pass a slower-moving vehicle in front of them. "I like Kane, though. Kane's cool. You think he'll propose to your mom on Christmas?"

"Maybe. Or New Year's." Either one seemed like a reasonable possibility at this point. "He's been sending me pictures of possible rings, wants to know which one she'd like best."

"Interesting," Bellamy said. "But your dad and his girlfriend aren't engaged, right? They're just dating."

"Last I heard. But she's a little Anna Nicole Smith if I've ever seen one. I wouldn't be surprised if she convinces him to put a ring on it." Clarke rolled her eyes, hoping that at least one of her parents would just run off to Vegas and do a quick wedding. That way she wouldn't have to stand there and be a part of two of them. It wouldn't be her mom, though. Her mom would want the formal ceremony, which was actually fine by her. As far as stepparents went, Kane was miles ahead of Alyssa.

Once they got into the city, Clarke did her best to direct Bellamy to her dad's house. She always got turned around, so of course they ended up taking the scenic route. As the houses got bigger, though, she knew they were getting close. "Turn right up here," she told him.

He put on the brake a little too quickly, and their car fishtailed on the ice as it approached the corner. "Whoa," he said, holding the wheel tightly.

"Jesus, Bellamy," she swore, reaching for the dashboard to hold on tight. "I thought you said you were good at winter driving."

"I am," he insisted.

"Well, apparently you're not."

He managed to get the car under control and took the turn onto her dad's street very slowly. "Oh, is this gonna be one of those weekends?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, one of those weekends where you get pissed and I just have to put up with it because you get to claim it's all because of pregnancy hormones?" He gave her a knowing look.

"Probably," she muttered, feeling a bit bad for snapping at him about his driving. "Why? You got a problem with that?"

"Nope," he said. "Just know that you've only got a couple months left, and then that excuse goes out the window."

"It's not an excuse, Bellamy," she snapped again. "It's a real biological change. It sucks." She sat up straighter, angling her whole body towards him as the words just poured out of her mouth. "Do you think I like this? Do you think I like sitting here yelling at you right now? I don't. I realize I'm like a crazy person, okay? But this is a high-stress weekend, and I've got a lot of stress to deal with even under normal circumstances."

"It doesn't have to be stressful," he reminded her. "You get to spend time with your dad."

"You say that like it's a privilege."

"Well, I've never spent time with my dad," he mumbled quietly, "so . . ."

Well, when he brought up that fact, she felt like a spoiled brat for doing any complaining at all. "Okay, now I just feel guilty," she admitted.

"No, don't," he said. "I'm just saying . . . perspective, you know."

"Okay." She was lucky, she supposed, to still have two parents who loved her, even if they didn't love each other anymore. "I'll try to calm down," she promised, pointing down to the end of the cul-de-sac where her dad's massive house loomed large over all the others. He had a huge rock in the front yard now that said Griffin on it, and it looked like he even had a fountain under construction. By the time he was done doing all the work he wanted to do on that house, it was going to look like a fancy hotel.

Bellamy's relative silence upon seeing the house pretty much said it all. Clarke had warned him that it was ridiculous—but beautiful, of course—but until somebody saw it with their own two eyes, they really couldn't imagine how spectacular it was. Every little detail of that place was just extravagant in its own way, from the ornate numbers next to the door indicating their address to the perfectly-manicured lawn. Clarke knew her dad and Alyssa weren't responsible for the upkeep of this place. They had maids, gardeners, a full-on staff to make sure their home always remained this pristine.

"You got all the presents?" she asked Bellamy after her closed the trunk.

"Yeah," he said. "Be careful."

The below-freezing temperatures were making the ground more slippery than it otherwise would have been, so she held onto his arm for extra support as they headed up the sidewalk to the front door. "I shouldn't have worn heels," she said. "I get off-balance enough as it is."

"I got you," he said, walking slowly with her. "So this whole place is his house?"

"Yep." She understood why he felt the need to ask that, though, since it was big enough for multiple families.

"Damn," he said, shaking his head in astonishment. "And here I thought your mom's house was big."

"Just wait 'til you see the inside," she told him. It didn't become any less lavish in there.

It ended up being Alyssa who came to the door to let them in. She was dressed up, legitimately dressed up, in a long, flowing off-red skirt and a white midriff halter. And here I thought it was a casual weekend, Clarke thought, suddenly second-guessing the Christmas shirt and jeans she'd worn. A nice pair of shoes didn't hide the fact that she was otherwise looking like crap.

"Clarke!" Alyssa exclaimed, immediately enveloping her in a hug. "Hey! So good to see you again."

Oh my god, Clarke thought enviously. The woman even smelled like Christmas. Like sugar cookies or something. But it was doubtful she'd been laboring away in the kitchen all morning. She probably just had some special lotion or perfume or something.

"And you must be Bellamy," Alyssa said, taking a step back. "Jake's told me all about you."

"Oh, good things, I hope," Bellamy said.

"I'm Alyssa. Come on in," their hostess said, ushering them inside. "You can go ahead and take off your shoes. Here, let me take these from you." She took the gift sacks out of Bellamy's hands and added, "You guys didn't need to bring anything."

"Yeah, we probably didn't," Bellamy said, looking around. The entryway alone was amazing, and it was all decked out in Christmas decorations. It had to have been professionally done.

"Where's my dad?" Clarke asked.

"He's just finishing up with the Christmas tree," Alyssa said. "Come on." She led them past the giant staircase and through a set of double doors into what probably served as their living room. But it was too big to just be that. It was like a freaking hotel lobby.

"Jake, look who's here!" Alyssa bubbled.

Clarke smiled at her dad, and he climbed down the small stepladder he'd been using to put a beautiful angel on top of the evergreen. The tree he and Alyssa had was so gigantic that even someone as big as her dad couldn't reach the top of it. "Is that my daughter?" he said. "Prettier than any angel on this tree, I'll tell you that." He crossed the living room and said, "Come here, sweetheart," then gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"Early Christmas," she pointed out. They still had a couple weeks to go until the real thing.

"I'm just glad we found a weekend that worked for this," her dad said. As he released her from his embrace, his eyes settled on Bellamy, and his smile changed a bit. "Hi, Bellamy."

"Hi," Bellamy returned.

Kinda weird, Clarke thought. They hadn't seen each other in years.

"Uh, tree looks nice," Bellamy remarked.

"Well, thank you," her father said. "You grew a beard."

"I did."

There was a moment of awkward silence after that, because really, what more could be said about Bellamy's beard? Clarke was actually thankful when Alyssa broke into it and said, "Let's go ahead and put these presents under the tree. We'll open them before you guys leave on Sunday." She set all the sacks down underneath the tree, next to some presents that looked to have been meticulously gift-wrapped. Again, Clarke refused to believe that that was something Alyssa had done on her own, and she knew for a fact that her dad didn't wrap. So they must have had someone do that for them. "We've got some stuff for you guys, too," Alyssa said, motioning to the gifts, "and I got something for your mom."

"For my mom?" Clarke echoed, nearly laughing. "Oh, well, she will . . . I'm sure she'll just love that." She could just imagine the look on her mother's face on Christmas morning when she picked up a present from her ex-husband's new girlfriend. It might not even get opened, to be honest.

"Did she put her tree up yet?" her dad asked.

"No. She has a silver one now, though," Clarke informed him.

"Silver?"

"Yeah. It's really an eyesore, if you ask me." Her mom hated real trees, though. The first Christmas of the divorce—or separation, as Clarke had hoped it would be at the time—she hadn't hesitated to go out and buy a fake tree.

"Huh," her father said, shaking his head as he pictured a silver Christmas tree. If he was imagining something that looked like tin foil, then he wasn't far off. "Well, Bellamy, what do you say? You wanna have a drink?" he invited, moseying on over to . . . a minibar. He had a minibar in his living room. It paled in comparison to the full-fledged bar he had down by the pool, but still . . . they could just sit and have drinks right there.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Bellamy said, following him.

"I got my own wine cellar," her dad boasted. "Pulled a few bottles up before you came." He set them all out on the counter and said, "Go ahead and take a look, tell me which one you wanna start with."

Bellamy wasn't much of a wine drinker, but Clarke still saw a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He enjoyed an alcoholic beverage or two. Always had.

"You should go drink something, too," she told Alyssa. "I mean, I would if I could."

"Oh, no," Alyssa said quietly. "I . . . I can't."

"Why not?" She wasn't, like, a recovering alcoholic or something, was she?

Alyssa didn't say anything, but when her hand came up to rest on her stomach, realization just clicked into place for Clarke.

"Oh my god," she said in astonishment, her jaw practically dropping to the floor. "Are you pregnant?"

At the bar, both Bellamy and Jake froze, and for a few seconds, nobody said anything. Finally, Alyssa smiled and exclaimed, "Ten weeks now! We were gonna tell you at some point this weekend."

Clarke stared at the other woman's stomach in disbelief, because . . . she was wearing a freaking midriff dress today. She wasn't showing yet at all. But some women were just lucky that way, and apparently Alyssa was one of them. Apparently Alyssa was pregnant.

"Dad?" she shrieked, shooting her father an alarmed look. Was this a joke or something? Or were they being serious?

"It's true," he said, grinning from ear to ear now. "You're gonna be an older sister."

Alyssa squealed excitedly, and Clarke just stood there like an idiot, stunned, not really sure what to do or what to say. Bellamy had the right idea when he uncorked one of the wine bottles and took a big drink.

...

As if having his own wine cellar and indoor pool weren't enough, Clarke's father also had his own home movie theater. He suggested, after a particularly quiet and awkward dinner, that the four of them retire there for a while to watch something festive. He had all of the Home Alone movies, even though the first two were the only good ones, along with A Christmas Story, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, It's a Wonderful Life, and many more holiday classics. He urged Clarke to pick, but she literally did not care what they watched, so Bellamy ended up picking for her, and Bellamy picked Die Hard. He claimed that was a Christmas movie, too. Surely he'd seen it before, but his eyes were glued to the screen. Either he was seriously into it, or he was grateful to have a distraction.

Nothing could distract Clarke, though. Die Hard wasn't her type of movie in the first place, so it wasn't like it was something that could hold her attention. She just sat there with Bellamy on a very plush, reclining couch, well aware of the fact that her dad and Alyssa were sitting behind them, huddled together under a blanket, all cozy and coupley. With their baby.

Yeah. That was still head-spinning.

...

Forehead pulsing lightly, Clarke meandered out of her room, in search of some Tylenol.

"Clarke?" her mom called from downstairs. "You're still awake?"

"Yeah." The light from the TV was on, so apparently she wasn't the only one. "Couldn't sleep," she said as she shuffled down the stairs. "I kept dreaming about all the finals I have next week. It's stressing me out." Last year, she'd been a lot more prepared; this year, she was balancing school and a boyfriend, and that made it harder to find time to study. "Did you have finals when you were in high school?" she asked her mom, feeling like exam requirements had to have become more stringent over the years.

"Some," her mom said. "But I don't think they were as hard as they are now."

Of course not, Clarke thought bitterly. Every year, the standards for students just kept going up. They were expected to know more and more all the time, and as much as she did enjoy learning . . . sometimes it was nice to just lose herself in her drawing class, or in choir. The fine arts didn't get nearly enough attention.

"Come here, sit down," her mom said, patting the couch cushion.

Even though she had yet to get that Tylenol she felt like she so desperately needed, Clarke took a seat and looked up at the TV to see what her mom was watching. She'd expected a Hallmark holiday movie, because her mom watched a lot of those cheesy things this time of year. But instead, she saw something more recognizable, old video footage from her parents' wedding day. "You just randomly watch this?" she asked.

"Sometimes." Her mom smiled, a reminiscent look in her eyes. "Especially when he's gone for work and I'm missing him."

Clarke had seen this whole video before, but it was always kind of fun to look at what they'd worn, how they'd styled their hair, and to hear them say their vows. They'd just gone with the traditional ones, though, which Clarke thought were kind of outdated at this point. They would never not work, of course, but she definitely wanted to write her own vows someday. "Neither one of you really looks that different," she commented, hoping that her genetics were as good as theirs. Especially her mom's. The woman could probably still fit in the same wedding dress.

"Well, thank you for saying that," her mom said. Reaching over, she touched Clarke's hair and said, "You know, someday we'll be at your wedding. You'll be the one in a pretty white dress. Hopefully one that doesn't end up looking as dated as mine."

"Yeah, someday," Clarke said quietly, though she wondered how her mom would feel if she ended up marrying someone who wasn't a man. It didn't seem likely at this point since she'd never even tried dating a girl, but . . . well, one of these days, she was going to work up the courage to be honest with them about her bisexuality. One of these days.

"I don't want you to be in any big hurry, though," her mom added quickly.

"I'm not." Sure, she sketched out wedding dresses once in a while, but she also sketched prom dresses. And sexy outfits that she wished she could sew just so she could wear them for Bellamy.

"That's good," her mom said. "Because this year . . . oh, sometimes I just feel like your life's flying right by me at a hundred miles an hour. And I can't keep up."

Clarke made a face. "Why? Just because I started dating Bellamy?" Yeah, that had changed some things for sure, but it didn't change everything. "We're not idiots, Mom. We know he's gonna graduate and I'm still gonna be in high school," she said. "We know he's gonna go to college, and we're gonna be apart, and . . . you'll get what you want." Lowering her head, she looked at her lap and mumbled, "We won't be together forever."

"I didn't say that's what I want," her mom made sure to note.

"You didn't have to." She'd overheard enough conversations between her parents at this point to know that neither one of them was all aboard the Bellamy Blake bandwagon. It didn't matter how many times he came over for dinner or how polite he tried to be. They were still just counting down the days until he left for college.

"Well, I just . . . I don't want you to end up with someone whose entire success in life depends on his ability to throw a football down a field," her mom said. "That's all."

"There's a lot more to him than that," Clarke argued. Being a football player was just, like, one small aspect of who Bellamy was. If her mom really got to know him, she'd know that he loved history, despite having difficulties reading about it. She'd know that the spring play director at school was desperately trying to get him to audition, because she'd heard him speak at pep rallies and thought he'd have incredible stage presence. She'd know that he was the type of guy who stood up to bullies and bigots and anyone else in their school who wanted to put people down just for being different. Bellamy Blake wasn't just a good football player; he was a good guy. He wasn't popular solely because of his good looks and athleticism. People liked him so much because he was nice.

"I'm just saying . . ." Her mom trailed off, sighing frustratedly. "No, you know what? We spend enough time not seeing eye to eye when it comes to that boy," she said. "Let's just . . . let's just watch the video. Okay?"

Clarke didn't say anything, but her eyes flittered back up to the screen in time to watch her dad place the ring on her mom's finger. The version they liked to sell her was that they'd waited until their wedding night to have sex, and that they'd never slept with anyone until each other. But Clarke was highly skeptical of all of that. Sometimes they just liked to pretend that they were perfect.

...

"You doin' okay?"

Clarke managed a nod when Bellamy's arm gave her shoulders a little squeeze, but it couldn't have looked convincing. She was barely even looking at the screen anymore because her mind was so elsewhere. This just seemed stupid to be sitting here with some dumb action movie on, pretending to watch that when, really, there were some important things to talk about.

Turning around, she blurted out to Alyssa, "So if you're ten weeks along, does that mean you've had an ultrasound?"

Alyssa seemed a bit taken aback by the suddenness of the question. "Uh, yeah, we had our first one at week eight," she said. "I'll have to show you the pictures."

"Hmm." She squeezed out a smile, even though she knew that there was very little to actually see on an ultrasound at that point. In fact, unless you were getting the 3D ones, everything just sort of looked blobby.

Clarke was only able to pretend to watch the movie for about seven more seconds before she spun back around and asked, "Was this, like, a planned thing then or just an accident?"

Alyssa laughed nervously. "Well, I don't know if I'd call it an accident."

"But it wasn't planned?" If her dad had actually agreed to this at his age . . . well, that was just irresponsible, wasn't it? He was fifty-one years old. By the time the kid went to college, he'd be seventy.

"No, it wasn't planned," Alyssa said slowly. "Was yours?"

Oh, bitch, don't even try to turn this back around on me, Clarke thought heatedly. This so wasn't about her right now. "Dad, how are you gonna tell Mom?" she went on, not sure how her mother was going to react to all of this.

"To be honest, I was hoping you'd do it for me," he confessed.

"Oh, that's nice." He wanted her to be the bearer of the news just so he didn't have to deal with any of his ex-wife's backlash, huh? How convenient.

"Well, it might be better if she hears it from you," he said.

"You should tell her yourself, Jake," Alyssa urged. "Don't make Clarke do it."

"Yeah, don't make me do it." It was possible that her mom would just laugh and wish him luck, but it was also possible that she'd rant and rage about it for weeks.

"Okay, I'll tell her myself," her dad reluctantly decided, but Clarke didn't really believe it. He'd probably just prolong it until Clarke got fed up and told her mom everything.

Nearly completely turned around to talk to them now, Clarke just kept rambling, every thought and complaint she had about this situation just spilling out of her mouth, one word after another. "And do you realize that your baby's gonna be the aunt or the uncle of my baby?" she pointed out. "We're gonna be one of those families now with the screwed up genetic tree."

Beside her, Bellamy tried to get her to turn around again as he suggested, "Clarke, just watch the movie."

"No, I don't wanna watch the movie. The movie sucks," she complained. "Dad . . . we need to talk about this."

He aimed the remote at the screen and paused the film, then pressed another button to turn on the lights. "I'm not sure what there is to talk about," he said. "We're having a baby. So are you. Let's all just be happy for each other."

"No, it's not that I'm not happy. I'm just . . ." She trailed off as she struggled to find the right words to even begin to articulate how she was feeling in light of this revelation. "This is so weird."

"Clarke, I know this is a lot for you to take in," Alyssa said softly, sitting up straighter, "but your father and I are both really excited."

Clarke snorted and rolled her eyes. "Well, of course you're really excited. You're gonna give birth to an heir to the fortune."

"Clarke!" her father hissed.

"Oh, I could use another drink right about now," Bellamy groaned, scooting away from her.

Alyssa just stared at her with wide, tear-filled eyes and sputtered, "I . . . I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, honey," Jake said, putting his hand on his girlfriend's lap. "Clarke, apologize right now."

She felt like she was a little kid again, being told what to do by her dad. And as rude and selfish as it may have been, she didn't want to apologize. She'd said what she said, and in that moment, she didn't even feel bad about it. So instead of offering up any kind of 'I'm sorry,' she just got up and marched out of the theater.

"Clarke!" her dad yelled after her.

She was storming upstairs when Bellamy came after her and demanded, "Hey, what was that all about?"

She spun around at the top of the staircase and vented, "I tried, Bellamy. I tried to calm down, but then this happened, and I just—I just couldn't! And I can't blame that on pregnancy hormones, I know. I'm just so frustrated! I already have to share my dad with Alyssa. Now I have to share him with a half-sibling, too? God, I feel like this is the kind of thing you see on Jerry Springer, not in real life."

"Is Jerry Springer still on?" he asked.

"That doesn't matter!"

He continued to follow her as she stomped down the upstairs hallways, in search of the guest room where her dad had put their bags. "What you said to her, though . . ." he said. "You basically called her a gold-digger."

"Because that's what she is!" Clarke threw open a door and saw a guest room. Not their guest room, though. This one was teal. She slammed it shut and kept walking.

"You don't know that," Bellamy pointed out.

"Oh, but I'll tell you what I do know: My child is only gonna be a couple weeks older than my sibling," she ranted. "Just imagine that, Bellamy. Imagine if your mom got pregnant right now. Wouldn't that make your head spin?"

"Yeah," he admitted, "but I'd try to be happy for her."

"Well, I'm sorry!" she shouted, trying another guest room. Not the right one. "I'm sorry I can't be happy because I'm too busy being pissed off! And I don't even wanna be here right now, but if I go home, it's not like I'm gonna feel any better, and-" She very nearly screamed at the top of her lungs when she opened a third door and found another room that wasn't the right room. "Jesus Christ, how many fucking guest rooms are there in this place?" she roared.

"Seven," Alyssa's voice piped up in response. "We put your stuff in one of the north ones."

Clarke suddenly felt very embarrassed standing there face to face with the woman she'd just insulted pretty badly. Sure, Alyssa didn't own this home, but Clarke was still a guest here, and she'd never been such a rude one. She hated that she was just unleashing like this, so probably the best thing to do was to just go hide out for the rest of the night. "Which way's north?" she asked, wondering if they were in the wrong wing of the house. Because this house was so large that it had wings.

Alyssa started to tell her. "You have to go-"

"No, you know what?" Clarke cut in. "This one's fine. We'll stay in here." They were all just rooms with beds, fancily-decorated and barely slept-in, of course. It wasn't like one of them could be much better than the others.

"We'll move your stuff," Alyssa said, slinking back down the hall.

"Thanks, Alyssa," Bellamy said quietly.

Clarke waited until the other woman was gone to hiss at him, "No, no 'Thanks, Alyssa.' We hate her."

"We do?" he said, flipping on the light switch as they went into their new room.

"Yes."

He shrugged. "I don't."

"Probably not, because I'm sure you think she's hot."

"Well . . . yeah," he confessed. "But not as hot as you. Plus, I think she's kinda nice."

"Kinda nice?" Clarke echoed, wishing he would just take her side in this, because that was what she needed. "Seven guest rooms, Bellamy. Keep talking like that and you can go find one." She tore back the covers on the bed, hoping she'd feel better when she crawled beneath them to hunker down for the night.

...

Crazy as it was, Bellamy preferred the extra-long twin bed in his room at his mom's house to the queen-sized one he'd slept in last night. That mattress was too soft. He felt like he kept sinking down into it. He woke up with a sore back, feeling like he needed to exercise just to work out the kinks. Luckily, Jake had plenty of home gym equipment. And that pool.

It took him about three minutes of wandering around the house to find his way out to that massive living room with that massive tree. Jake was already awake, lounging on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. He had the morning paper in one hand and an iPad in the other, seemed to be alternating reading the news on both.

"How's my daughter today?" he asked without looking up.

"She's still asleep," Bellamy replied, yawning as he sat down on a separate couch. The whole multiple couches thing boggled his mind. Even in the beach house, Clarke had two couches. He'd only ever had one growing up. "How's Alyssa?" he asked.

"She cried all night," Jake blurted, setting the paper down. He spent a few more seconds looking at the screen of his iPad, then set that down, too. "You know, I knew it would be an adjustment for Clarke," he said, "but I didn't anticipate quite that much anger."

Honestly, Bellamy hadn't, either. He'd tried to get her to talk about it some more last night, let it all out to him rather than to anyone else, but she'd just grumbled that she didn't want to talk about it and had gone to bed early. "It doesn't take much to set her off," he said, feeling like the pregnancy hormones had to be amplifying things at least a little bit.

"That's more than just a mood swing, though," her father said. "I think she has . . . a lot of lingering resentment. Towards me."

"Why?" Bellamy asked. He didn't want to prod too deeply, especially if something wasn't his business, but he also wanted to be able to help Clarke through her feelings. He wanted to understand where she was coming from, even though he was still going to call her out on it if she said something unkind to someone. "Because of what happened between you and Abby?"

Jake pressed his lips together tightly, then looked to Bellamy and asked, "How much as she told you about all of that?"

He shrugged. "She just said things got bad between you guys over time."

Jake nodded solemnly. "They did. There's no doubt in my mind that we're better off apart. I'm sure she and Marcus are very happy together, and Alyssa's . . . well, she's the love of my life."

"But it's hard for Clarke to accept that," Bellamy pointed out. No kids grew up wanting their parents to get a divorce. Maybe it bothered her more than she let on.

"I know," Jake said. "But she isn't the only one who's had to process some big news lately. I mean, imagine my surprise when I found out she was pregnant. With the child of an ex-boyfriend, no less."

Yeah, that had surprised everyone. Even Bellamy, originally. "If you put it like that, maybe she'll lighten up a bit," he suggested.

"Maybe," Jake agreed.

"And I can try to talk to her."

"You should," Jake said. "She'll listen to you."

We'll see, he thought. Just because Clarke hadn't wanted to talk last night didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't want to talk today now that she'd had a night to sleep on all of this. It was a new day and all that shit.

"So you and Clarke . . . you two just picked up right where you left off, huh?" Jake noted, shifting the topic.

"Pretty much." It was weird, because in some ways, it seemed like five years had really changed a lot. And in other ways, it felt like everything was exactly the same.

"Is she the reason you came back?" Jake asked.

As much as he would have loved to have claimed that, he hadn't come back to Arkadia pinning all his hopes on Clarke Griffin. He hadn't even been sure she'd been single at the time. "I just wanted to come home," he said. "And I mean . . . I hoped maybe she and I could start things up again. Yeah, she was definitely a big part of it."

"I'm sure you weren't expecting to move back home and have a pregnant girlfriend, though."

"No, but . . . that's just the way it happened." He was fairly certain Jake hadn't expected to father a child in his fifties, but hell, that'd just happened, too.

"You're in it long-term then?" Jake asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, that's good. Because if you aren't . . . well, it'd be better to get out now than to lead her on."

Bellamy frowned, narrowing his eyes a bit. "I'm not leading anybody on," he said, not sure why Jake even felt the need to say anything like that to him. "I love your daughter. You know that."

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know that you loved dating her. In high school," he said. "I don't know what that translates into these days."

What the fuck? Bellamy thought, feeling a little bit of his own anger now. Wasn't it obvious? He was here, wasn't he? He wouldn't have been there right now if he wasn't committed to being a part of Clarke's family, of Clarke's life. "Let me put it this way," he said, trying to state it as simply and succinctly as he could. "Alyssa's the love of your life?"

Jake nodded.

"Well, Clarke's the love of mine." In five years, no other girl he'd met could even compare to her. Even when she wasn't at her best, like last night, he still loved her more than anything in the world. And one of these days, all these skeptics and doubters were going to realize that that would never change.

...

Despite basically having their own city in that house, Clarke's father and Alyssa didn't seem to have any decent drawing paper. Bellamy managed to scrounge up an old notebook for her since she hadn't brought her sketchpad, and she proceeded to spend the majority of her day holed up in the very same bedroom she'd slept in last night, only venturing out to step across the hall and go to the bathroom. She faked being sick, and Bellamy brought some lunch up to her. He talked to her for a while, but she didn't feel like talking much today. So eventually he told her he was going to go hang out downstairs and that she should come down when she felt like it.

Even though she only had crappy materials at her disposal, Clarke was in the middle of putting together a pretty good drawing of their first house—back before they'd moved to Arkadia. It'd only had one guest room instead of seven, but it'd been nice. All of her earliest holiday memories had happened in that house. She missed it sometimes.

A knock on the door disrupted her. She expected it to be Bellamy, but instead, it was Alyssa who came into the room. "Hey," she said timidly. "Your dad's gonna start cooking dinner soon, if you wanna come down. We haven't seen much of you today."

"Well, I'm pretty embarrassed," Clarke admitted as she purposefully smudged part of her drawing for a shadow effect.

"Do you wanna talk?" Alyssa offered. "Woman to woman."

Did she want to? Not really, because she knew she was going to have to admit that she'd been wrong last night, and nobody enjoyed doing that. But did she need to? Oh, yeah. "Sure," she said, setting her drawing aside. She didn't move off of the bed, though. In fact, she folded her legs up underneath herself and wrapped her arms around her midsection, trying to take up as little space as possible. She didn't even feel like she deserved to be a guest in that house after what she'd said last night, how rude she'd been.

Alyssa shut the door quietly and came to the bed, taking a seat at the foot of it. "I know this is hard for you to believe, but I genuinely love your father," she started in. And she sounded genuine. "And it's not because of his money or because of this house. I love him as a person, as a man."

He's a good man, Clarke thought. Her dad wasn't perfect—nobody's dad was—but he'd always tried to guide her in the right direction in life. Even though they didn't see each other as much anymore and his birthday gifts were disappointingly impersonal, he was still her dad, and she loved him a lot, too.

"I understand that you have every reason to be suspicious because of the age gap. I get that," Alyssa acknowledged. "But Jake's the most amazing person I've ever met, and I love him with all my heart. Just like you love Bellamy."

Clarke felt tears sting her eyes when she imagined how hurt she would be if someone questioned her feelings for her boyfriend. How could she have done that to another woman? Why on earth had she ever thought she had the right to do that?

"My mom's been such a bitch to him because she thinks that we're just, like, slaves to the passion or something," Clarke admitted, rolling her eyes at the idea of that. "And I hate that last night I was such a bitch to you. You didn't deserve that. And . . ." She swallowed hard, owning her mistake, ready to move past it now. "I'm really sorry," she apologized. "I'm pregnant, too. Of all people, I should be the one to say . . . congratulations."

Alyssa smiled tearfully. "Thank you," she said. "To be honest, even though we're still getting to know each other, I'm really excited to have someone to go through this with. I mean, I try to tell Jake about it, but he doesn't understand."

"He's a man," Clarke scoffed. "He can't."

"No. Like the nausea. He doesn't get how bad it is."

"It's awful," Clarke agreed.

"Does it get any better?"

It was sort of weird to be talking to someone who was in the same position in life that she was, albeit just a few weeks behind. But like Alyssa had said, other people just didn't quite understand. "Mine was pretty much gone after first trimester," Clarke replied. "So hopefully yours is, too."

"And what about the peeing?" Alyssa inquired. "Do you still have to pee all the time?"

"All the time," she confirmed with a resigned nod.

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I'm just used to it at this point."

Alyssa shook her head. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"No, you will," Clarke assured her. She suspected that, even after the baby was born, she'd still be waking up in the night to use the bathroom. Her bladder would just be accustomed to it. "Have you had any weird cravings yet?" she asked, wondering if they'd been wanting to eat any of the same things.

"Oh, yeah," Alyssa said emphatically. "Pickles."

"Ooh, those sound so good right now." Her mouth watered at the thought of just sucking the juice out of one of those.

"I don't even like pickles," Alyssa mumbled.

"Me, neither." It was nice not to have to explain why she wanted one, though. It was nice to have someone who just understood.

The conversation Clarke had with her dad's girlfriend wasn't a particularly long one, but it was a good one. It felt like they'd sort of cleared the air and were able to start fresh then. Clarke decided to head downstairs and show her face, and she stopped in the kitchen and told her dad that she wanted to talk to him after dinner. She owed him an apology, too.

While he cooked (and Alyssa offered to help), Clarke went to find Bellamy. He'd said something about going for a swim, so she headed down to the pool, and indeed, he was swimming back and forth at more of a workout pace than a leisurely one. He stopped when she came to sit down on the edge, though, and dangled her legs in the water.

"You like this pool?" she asked him.

"Yeah." Dropping down beneath the water, he stayed under for a few seconds, then came back up and flipped his wet hair out of his face. "We don't need it, though. We got the ocean." He swam towards her, looking like a sexy male mermaid, and grabbed hold of her ankles beneath the water. "Well?" he prompted.

Still slightly embarrassed by her bratty behavior last night, she mumbled, "Okay, we don't hate her anymore."

"Oh, good," he said, "'cause I was failing miserably at that."

"We talked just now. I apologized. We commiserated about being pregnant," she explained. "Which was good, you know, because as much as I love Raven and Harper . . . they've never been pregnant. So sometimes it's hard to explain stuff to them."

"Right," he said, rubbing her calves beneath the water. "So you and Alyssa . . ."

"We bonded a little bit," she said.

"There you go."

It was a start, if nothing else. She didn't anticipate that they were suddenly going to be best friends or anything, but they could text and stuff after this, follow each other on Instagram and keep up with the baby happenings in each other's lives. Besides, Clarke kind of liked being slightly farther along. It made her feel all knowledgeable. "Have you and my dad been bonding today?" she asked him.

"Kinda," he said. "It's pretty easy with your dad. He's always liked me."

She made a face. "Well . . ."

Bellamy's eyes widened in horror. "Wait, what? Your dad doesn't like me? Since when?"

"No, he . . . he tolerates you," she informed him.

"What?" he spat. "No, your mom tolerates me. Your dad likes me. We talk about football and shit."

"Oh, he likes the football shit," she assured him. "He just . . ." She wasn't trying to make him feel bad or anything, but she didn't want him thinking he could just say anything or do anything with her dad and get away with it. "I lost my virginity to you, Bellamy. He's always gonna look at you with a critical eye."

"So I'm basically just screwed with both your parents then."

"No." It certainly felt that way sometimes, but if he kept trying, she felt like he'd eventually win them over somehow. "We have leverage here now. I'm nice to Alyssa, my dad's nice to you."

"This is a very healthy family dynamic we have going on here," he said sarcastically, "leverage and all that."

"I know. I'm sorry." She sighed. "I wish everyone was just as easygoing about things as your mom. And that applies to me, too. I could learn a few things from her." Maybe Aurora could give her some good insight in handling things with her dad and Alyssa. After all, it wasn't like she could ask her own mom for help in dealing with that.

Taking a look around, Clarke allowed herself to take a deep breath and just feel relaxed for the first time since they'd shown up. It wasn't actually a bad way to spend a weekend, swimming and relaxing in a house as beautiful as this. Someday she'd bring her son or daughter over here for a visit, and they'd probably never want to leave.

"You know what I wish?" she said, gazing down at her sexy, slippery boyfriend. "I wish I could just block out the rest of the world sometimes and forget it exists. And then it'd just be you and me."

"You and me, huh?" he said. As his hands came to rest on either side of her, he claimed, "I can make you forget everything else."

"How?"

He grinned. "Close your eyes."

Since she doubted he was going to pull her in the water, she went ahead and did just that. A few seconds later, she felt him get close as he pushed himself up out of the water, and then he was kissing her. Just one simple but sweet kiss, and he let it linger before he sank back down in the water again. When her eyes fluttered open, he smirked at her and asked, "Now what were we talking about?"

"I don't know," she whispered breathily. "I forget."