Ingrid groaned and pushed her head back against the stone wall. She was going to have to figure out when and how to--well, and whether or not to period--tell Christian about this. What complete bollocks this situation was.
"You think telling him would make things better?" she asked, her voice with just an inkling of hopefulness, as if what Greta thought was what dictated what would actually happen. But she knew that it was serious, she had--she had acted like she didn't trust him, she--she did trust him, it was just the pride and the anger over what had happened and the insecurity of it all. She knew he hadn't done it, and what killed her most was that she knew that if she had just admitted that a week ago, they probably would have been together now. She'd still feel horrible about this, but well, at least it would be a bit better than feeling horrible and alone.
She took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can tell him, Greta," she admitted. "At least not if we're not together. I mean, how much would it suck to have your ex-girlfriend, who you're pissed off at, tell you she's having your kid? I just... I don't want him to hate me more. I don't want this to add to the ill feelings." And she sure as hell didn't want him to think she was lying as an attempt to get him back; that'd probably be the worst.
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