~ 69 ~

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John's POV

Cynthia blew her nose beside me and I wrapped my arm around her, half heartedly.

"How are you feeling, darl?" I asked, fully knowing the answer: her nose was red and stood out against her sickly skin.

"Worse," She replied, closing her eyes and leaning back down on the bed. "Go without me, John."

I frowned slightly, to show my hesitance, but Cynthia hadn't seen.

"But I don't want to," I answered, and somehow, it was true. "You know I don't like going without you, and neither do you."

I honestly didn't want to face Kaylee right now, alone.

Ever since that talk with George about.. about the baby being mine, I didn't know what to say.

I'd been doing the math recently, and I added it all up.

Kaylee was 9 months.

She left me 9 months ago.

She can't have met Jimmy the very next day and gotten knocked up, could she?

"John, you're going. That's it." Cyn croaked, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. "You've got some clean clothes in the wardrobe."

I knew how badly Cyn wanted kids, and if Kaylee's baby is mine, I don't know what I'll tell Cynthia.

"Okay, sweetie." I simply replied, turning to the closet and taking out my clothes, when another thought struck. "Cyn, babe, did you and Kaylee talk at breakfast the other day?"

Cynthia's eyes opened a slither, and she coughed.

"Yes, she's lovely. Why?"

"Well, did she talk much? I mean, about the baby?"

"Uhm, not really," Cynthia replied, shifting herself into a more comfortable position. "She was chatting with Paul, mostly."

===

Kaylee's POV

"They're here!"

I felt my stomach clench in on itself as Pattie's voice carried through into my bedroom.

It was a party; us girls were being dragged along.

I stepped out of my room and dashed into the living room, my dress as pretty as the one I'd worn two days ago at breakfast.

"Ok, you ready?" George asked me, taking Pattie's arm and leading her to the front door. "You sure you want to come?"

"No, actually," I responded, but the two laughed.

"Too bad, c'mon."

I sighed deeply and followed them outside, where a dark, long car was waiting for us on the driveway.

Out popped a figure, and he waved a hand nervously; Paul.

"Here," Paul yelled, and I wandered over towards him as he opened the door, placing his hand on my back as I climbed in, George and Pattie following.

Paul seemed ever more relaxed around me, and I smiled calmly.

Maybe things could go back to normal?

But then it hit me: Normal was me and John.

Did I really want to go anymore?

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