[chloe]

I should have known that I would never be able to keep the truth hidden from people, least of all my father. He may not have given a shit about me but he had a way of turning up when I least wanted him to be there and he had a way of finding out things which, in reality, were none of his business.

My father, as far as I was aware at least, was supposed to be in New York until the end of the week. He had told my mother that he would be finalising some deal which was going to branch his hospital out further afield—though I am almost certain that, while he may have been finalising that deal, he was also probably fucking some twenty-something year old at the same time.

He didn't exactly keep his affairs a secret. And, more than once, I had caught the woman leaving the house in the afternoon while my mother had been in the kitchen preparing dinner for the evening. She knew what was happening but, since she didn't even love my father, she couldn't have given a damn what he was doing in their marital bed.

But, if there was one thing which my parents did have in common, then it was their ability to make my life hell. I had never planned on telling either of them that Matthew was the father, not only because the both of them hated him and had constantly warned me off going anywhere near him, but because of the stupid agreement which we had with each other.

I knew that he would waste no time in telling my mother and I also knew that the both of them would drink to my stupidity later on this evening. It was something which they had done since I was old enough to be considered a failure to the both of them. They would drink to celebrate whenever I did something which they didn't approve of, and they would cry when I actually did something which would warrant them being proud of me.

"John. I think that you had better come with me," my father instructed but, from the tone of his voice, I knew that he was speaking to John as his boss and not as his friend. "You, Chloe, have got some serious explaining to do."

"Dad, please. I swear that I was going to tell you." I had always been a convincing liar and, despite my father claiming that he was the human lie detector, he had never been able to figure out when I was lying and when I was actually telling the truth—lying was the only reason I had managed to remain under the same roof as my parents for the last year and a half.

"I don't give a shit, Chloe. Your mother asked you and you refused to tell us." My father's tone was hard and cold, his eyes were void of any emotion, and his hands were clenched at his sides. So, despite the lack of expression, I knew that he was pissed off with me and that he wasn't going to let this drop. "I am so disappointed with you. Even more so than when I heard from Jason that you didn't want to go to college."

"I have always been so good at disappointing mother and yourself, so why the fuck would I stop now?"

"I thought that there was some hope you. That, if you went to college and studied to be a doctor, then I would actually be proud of you. But how wrong I was." I wasn't even offended by the criticism. It was difficult to be offended when he has never actually had a good thing to say about me, and when he has never even been proud of me, not matter what I did.

Jason was the one who was proud of me. Jason was the one who was always there for me. Jason was the one who became my father-figure and loved me unconditionally, even when I pressed every single one of his buttons and got on his last nerve. It has always been Jason and, regardless of what has happened between us or what will happen between us, it is always going to be Jason who loves me and gives a damn about me.

"I also thought that you had learned your lesson with Matthew. After the way he treated you and walked out of your life," I heard my father mutter under his breath. But I knew he had said it deliberately loud enough for me to be able to hear what it was that he had to say.

"Matthew swore me to secrecy. He didn't want anyone to know that he had slept with me and, to be honest, neither did I," I sighed to myself. I didn't want anyone to know that I had slept with Matthew and that he was the father of my child but, at the same time, I also wanted our child to have a father. I had grown up without a father who loved me and without a father who cared about me, and I never wanted our child to have to face that same life, not when their father could easily be there for them.

I followed behind my father out of the hospital to where I spotted his car parked in its usual spot. He was deep in conversation with John, probably about what he was going to do to his son when he got his hands on him, but their voices were so hushed that I couldn't hear what either of them were saying.

But, as I walked behind the both of them, I couldn't help but notice just how similar the both of them looked. Their heights were practically the same, their hair was the same shade of brown and had been trimmed to the perfect inch at the base of their necks. The way they walked in step with each other was weird, and the fact that they had the same Northern accent was even weirder. It was so weird that the two of them could have been brothers.

The only real, apparent, difference between the two of them was that my father wore a navy suit while John was always seen in the same white jacket; navy shirt; yellow tie and black trousers. But, I am almost certain that, if John his way, he would be entitled to wear a suit as my father did because that's how it had always been between the two of them.

I remember a time when Matthew and I were like that. We had been best friends and our parents found it almost impossible to keep the pair of us apart. We were always at each other's houses or playing in the street or hiding from our families in places we knew that they would never look. We only had each other back then, but things changed, and so the both of us.

Matthew became popular. It happened almost overnight. He went from the scrawny kid who had been my best friend and had my back no matter what to the man who was made of muscle with looks to die for—all the girls loved him and all the guys wanted to be him. He loved sport—quickly becoming the captain of the basketball team and the vice-captain of the football team—had a body to die for and was amazing at pretty much everything.

He quickly forgot about me, the girl who had always been there for him and had been his friend when he had no one. I was seen at the nerd who only ever had her head in a book, unbeknown to them that I was only doing it in the slightest hope that I might actually hear my parents tell me that they were proud of me and that they loved me. While he had all the friends he could wish for, I only had my two best friends to pass the long hours at school.

I hated sport, especially football because I didn't understand the fascination with kicking a ball around a field for ninety minutes in an attempt to get is past eleven other players. My body wasn't anything impressive and I only used my brain for what I wanted to be good at, so I didn't have to impress anyone by becoming something I wasn't.

We were, after this, too different to ever remain friends and he made that very clear to me in the way he treated me in the aftermath of our rejected friendship. He didn't want to know someone like me and he acted as though our previous friendship had meant jackshit to him. I had cried for days afterwards and even refused to go to school, claiming that there was nothing worth being there for.

Jason was the one who made me see the type of person Matthew really was and he even showed me all the best ways to deal with someone like him. He made me realise that I didn't need someone like him in my life and that there were better people out there for me; people who would actually accept me for who I am. I fought back and it was in that moment that I realised what it was to truly hate someone.

"In the car, Chloe." My father's harsh tone informing me just how much trouble I was in right now. Probably not only for lying to him, but also for going back to the guy who had hurt me and was the reason I became a shell of myself. "We are going to pick Matthew up from whichever slut he is with, and then we are going to sort this out."

"Lydia," I said as I got into the car without a fight or an argument. I didn't have the strength to keep fighting a man who I knew I was never going to be able to beat.

"What was that?"

"Lydia. That's who you will find Matthew with given that's his girlfriend," I sighed. I couldn't even look my father in the eye because I knew that, if I did, then I would break down in tears. I knew that he was disappointed and that he boiling with hatred, but to actually see it in his eyes, that was a different story.

"Matthew has a girlfriend?" I knew that Matthew had never told his parents everything and that he kept a lot of things to himself, especially the fact that they were going to be grandparents and he was going to be a father. But it didn't even surprise me that Matthew hadn't told his parents about Lydia because, even when we were friends, there was a lot which he kept from both John and Vivienne—I was the only one he would confide in because he didn't want to speak to anyone else. He didn't even tell them that he was being bullied.

"Guess he has more than one skeleton in his closet." I knew that my father wasn't in the mood for any jokes right now and neither was he in the mood to be messed around, not when he wanted to knock Matthew for six and make him suffer for impregnating me. "Phone him and tell him that I want him to meet us at my place."

"He doesn't want anything to do with the baby, and I don't want him anywhere near either of us right now. Is there really any need for this?"

I might not have liked Matthew and I may have also thought that he was an absolute twat, but I didn't want my father to do something stupid. He was in that where it was impossible for me to tell anything about him. I couldn't read his expression and I didn't want to even imagine what was going through his mind in that moment.

"I don't give a damn what the two of you want. We are going to do what's best for the baby."

"And what would that be then, Pete?" John had his phone pressed to his ear and I assumed that he was phoning Matthew to tell him what the hell was going on and, when that was done, I could be damn sure that hell would be unleashed.

I knew that I should have kept my mouth shut and that nothing good would come from me telling John that his son was the father. I could be looking for Braydon and finding out what his problem was but, instead, I was being forced back to the house so that my father could have an argument with the fool who had gotten me into this situation.

I didn't want this to happen. I just wanted to tell John the truth in the hope that he would be happy for me and that he would be there for me, without insisting that he tell Matthew he needs to step up as a father. What I got instead was a lecture about how Matthew was a good kid and my father on an inevitable warpath.

It didn't matter what scenario came to my mind, there was no happy ending in any of them. They all concluded with an argument and then with me being blamed for allowing all of this to happen in the first place—something which was sick of happening now because it takes two to tango and I couldn't have created this baby without the help from Matthew.

"Marriage." My father's voice broke the barrier of my thoughts and, when I heard those words, I was literally left speechless.

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