Keep My Best Friend's Baby Daddy

My boyfriend, Gavin, was doing it again.

At the birthday dinner he threw for me, the cake he brought out still had only two candles on it. "You and Selena only have birthdays two days apart," he said, his voice entirely too casual. "Might as well celebrate together." The words cut through me, delivered with an ease that felt like a slap.

I couldn’t understand it. If we had to share, why did the date always have to fall on my best friend’s actual birthday?

Why was the restaurant’s decor, the menu, even the flower wall styled after Selena’s tastes? The floral arrangement spelling out her initials, "S.P.", felt like a mockery.

This wasn’t my party. It was hers, dressed up in the thin excuse of being mine. "Gavin, who are you actually dating?" I’d asked him more than once.

But to Gavin, my hurt was just a symptom of my own insecurity. "You two are best friends," he’d always say, waving it off. "You share everything.

Being good to her is my way of being good to you." He used that excuse to shield himself while his attention to Selena grew more and more meticulous.

Eventually, even our rare dates were split down the middle, with Selena always occupying the other half of the table.

She called him the blueprint of a perfect boyfriend—thoughtful, attentive, detailoriented. Fine.

If he wanted to be so good to her, if we had to share our birthdays, maybe they should just share a bed too. ...

I stood up to leave, but before I could take more than a few steps, Gavin caught my arm. "Don’t ruin Selena’s birthday, Maeve," he muttered, his brow furrowing with that familiar look of deep disappointment, as if I were the one being utterly unreasonable. "She thinks of you as her sister.

How is it going to look if you just walk out?" I stopped, looking at him. "You just said it yourself. It’s "her" birthday, not mine.

Why do I have to be here for it?" "You two share everything. What’s the big deal about sharing a birthday?" He paused, shaking his head. "Besides, celebrating together is special.

You’re always making a scene over nothing." That look of exhaustion on his face—I knew it by heart. I didn’t argue. I just choked back my tears and ran out into the rain.

I had lost count of how many times we’d fought over Selena. She was a permanent fixture on our dates.

When we both caught a cold, he drove to her apartment first to drop off medicine.

And when I flew back from a business trip in the middle of the night, he forgot to pick me up because he was keeping Selena company while she worked late.

Every fight ended the same way: with me being painted as hysterical, jealous, and crazy. But standing in the cold rain, the truth finally crystallized.

I was never the person he thought of first.

By the time I got back to our apartment, shivering and wet, my phone buzzed with a text from Gavin. "When you’ve calmed down, come to the theater.

I rented out a private screening." My thumb hovered over the screen, trembling.

Once, in a rare moment of quiet, I’d told him I wanted to know what it felt like to have an entire movie theater to ourselves.

A tiny, foolish spark of warmth flickered in my chest—he had remembered. But the moment I saw the movie title, that spark died.

It was the romantic melodrama Selena had been begging to see all week. I hated those types of movies.

I tilted my head back, breathing in slowly, and realized our home was practically a monument to Selena. The living room set was in her favorite modernbohemian style.

The massage chair in the corner was bought specifically because her back occasionally ached. Even the photo wall—a collection of Gavin’s photography—was split.

Half of it was of Selena; the other half was of the two of them.

My face was there, too, but only in a single, small print squeezed into the bottom corner where the light barely reached.

The clock struck midnight when Gavin finally walked through the door, holding a small box. "I saved you a slice," he said, offering a tired smile. "Kept it in the restaurant’s fridge so the frosting wouldn’t melt." In the past, a gesture like this would have been enough to make me fold.

I would have apologized for being difficult.

But now, looking at him, the distance between us felt like a chasm. "Do you actually love me, Gavin?" He let out a sharp, impatient sigh. "How many times do we have to go through this?

Why do you always have to be so paranoid?" Sensing the chill in the room, he tried to soften his tone.

He stepped closer, reaching out to brush my hair back, but I flinched away. "Maeve, I’ve had a really long day.

Don’t start this again." When I didn’t answer, he sighed and headed toward the bathroom.

I remembered a time, early on, when asking that question would make him cup my face in his hands and look into my eyes. "‘I love you,’" he’d say. "‘You can ask me a million times, and I’ll always tell you.’" I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

I wasn’t sure if I was laughing at the memory of his words, or at the girl who had actually believed them.

Before bed, Gavin did what he’d been doing for the last two weeks: he started a FaceTime call with Selena and kept it active as they fell asleep.

It had started when she called him, terrified, claiming she heard footsteps outside her door.

I was pulling an allnight shift at the office, so Gavin went to her apartment and stayed until dawn.

Ever since, she claimed she couldn’t sleep without the comfort of his voice in her ear. "We should go to Cape Cod for our next trip," Selena’s voice drifted from the speaker, soft and dreamlike. "I heard making a wish under the summer fireworks there actually works." Gavin gave a low, fond chuckle. "Sure.

If that’s where you want to go." "What about Maeve? Where does she want to go?" "Why bother asking her? She doesn’t know anything about Cape Cod.

She won’t have an opinion anyway." His voice was so dismissive it was almost casual. In all our group trips, I was little more than a ghost.

On our last hike, the two of them had forged ahead so quickly that when I tripped and sprained my ankle, they were already out of sight.

The time before that, they had sat on the beach talking about constellations late into the night, their voices rising and falling in a rhythm I couldn't hope to join.

Watching their easy intimacy now, a profound exhaustion settled deep into my bones. "Let’s book it for tomorrow then," Selena said. "Sounds good." Gavin shifted under the covers, closing his eyes to sleep without once turning to look at me. "I’m not going," I whispered.

He was too busy murmuring a final goodnight to Selena to hear me.

I pulled out my phone and typed a message to the headhunter who had reached out to me the week before about a position in Boston. "What is the earliest I can start?" The next morning, Gavin practically dragged me out of bed, pulling me toward the airport despite my protests. "Selena went out of her way to make sure you were included," he scolded as we walked through the terminal. "Don’t wear that miserable expression this time.

You ruined the mood on our last trip." Through security, boarding, takeoff—I moved like a marionette, hollowed out.

Somewhere midflight, the plane shuddered, dropping suddenly in a pocket of severe turbulence. My heart jumped. I instinctively turned my head toward him.

Gavin’s body was tense, his knuckles white. He was holding Selena’s hand, gripping it with a fierce, protective urgency.

Selena looked startled for a second, then gently patted his arm. "It’s okay," she said softly. "Just a little bump." I was the only one who knew Gavin was having a panic attack.

Years ago, we’d been on a flight that dropped hundreds of feet in a storm.

He had wrapped his arms around me so tightly it hurt, whispering, "‘If we don’t make it, my only regret is that I didn't get to marry you.’" The burning sincerity in his eyes that day had sustained me through years of growing cold.

But now, his reflex was to protect someone else. As he turned his head back toward me, I looked away.

My fingers traced the band of my ring, a dull ache blooming in my chest. "Fine," I thought. "Let this be our goodbye trip." When we landed, Selena told us to wait by the baggage claim while she went to buy local iced coffees.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar, sharp cramp in my lower abdomen. I hurried to the nearest restroom and realized my period had started early.

I called Gavin. "Can you buy me some pads?" "Isn’t your cycle at the end of the month? It’s only the fifteenth." There was a heavy pause on the line.

We both knew the fifteenth was Selena’s cycle. He cleared his throat quickly. "Just hang tight.

I’ll buy them and have Selena bring them in to you." I huddled in the stall, waiting until my feet went numb. Nobody came.

In the end, I had to call the airport’s guest assistance hotline just to get a basic hygiene kit.

I wanted to prove to myself that I didn't need him, but when I stood up, a violent cramp seized my leg. I stumbled, barely catching myself against the wall.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over. Gavin hadn't always been like this. He used to be the man who kept track of every detail.

When stress was making my hair fall out, he’d spent weeks researching natural remedies, boiling herbal teas for me every night.

After graduation, I’d turned down a prestigious job offer in New York to move to his hometown, Seattle, with him. But the climate, the social circle, the job—none of it fit me.

I was constantly struggling to adjust, while he thrived. Once, during an argument, the frustration boiled over. "I only moved to this city for you," I cried.

He had looked at me, completely detached. "I didn't force you to come." The words had stunned me.

I still remembered our first night in Seattle, how he’d held my hand under the streetlights and promised, "‘My home is your home now.’" When I finally limped out of the restroom, I found the two of them standing in the middle of the terminal courtyard.

They were participating in a live "Midsummer Couples’ Trivia Challenge" hosted by a local travel booth. I had forgotten today was Sweethearts’ Day.

On our last anniversary, I had to work late, so Gavin took the reservation he’d made for us and went with Selena instead.

When I got home, we had a screaming match. "You’re seriously blaming me because you had to work?" Gavin had slammed the door. "I even brought you takeout that Selena specifically picked out for you.

She was trying to be thoughtful, and you’re just being bitter." We didn't speak for three days. But the moment he showed a sliver of regret, I went running back.

It wasn't because I wasn't hurt; it was because the memory of who he used to be was too beautiful to let go. But today, standing on the edge of the crowd, I just watched them.

The host asked a series of rapidfire questions about Selena’s favorite things, and Gavin answered every single one without a second thought. "Perfect score!" the host boomed into the microphone, grinning. "How do you know her preferences so well?" Gavin leaned toward the mic, his eyes locked onto Selena’s face, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "A lot of practice buying her gifts." Selena blushed, leaning her shoulder into his chest.

The crowd laughed, but I felt entirely hollow. When Selena first moved into her apartment, Gavin insisted on buying her a housewarming gift. Then it became a habit.

Every holiday, every trip, he bought everything in duplicate. He told me he was just trying to win over my best friend, but eventually, the line blurred.

He’d buy her sunglasses, sundresses, even expensive bath bombs. Every time he went shopping, he saw things that reminded him of her.

I couldn’t remember the last time he’d bought something just for me. They walked out of the crowd holding a matching pair of plush prizes.

When Gavin’s eyes finally landed on me, his smile faltered. "Oh, the pads," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I completely forgot.

Why didn't you call me again?" I looked at him, my voice flat. "Someone else helped me." Selena pouts, tapping his chest. "How could you forget something like that?" Gavin immediately ducked his head, his tone soft and placating. "I’m sorry, sweetie.

Won’t happen again." She let out a playful hum of approval. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. "My leg is cramping.

I’m going back to the hotel." Gavin was already typing on his phone, not even looking up. "Sure.

We’ve got the fireworks show tonight anyway, so we’ll see you later." That evening, I sat alone in the dim hotel room, scrolling aimlessly through my phone.

On a local travel vlog, a video popped up. "‘Spotted the sweetest couple at the fireworks show tonight!’" the caption read. I watched the screen as my throat tightened.

It was the scene I had always imagined for us. Under the bursting colors of the fireworks, Selena was laughing, and Gavin was pulling her closer, his eyes reflecting the light.

They looked radiant. They looked perfect. I opened my airline app, booked a oneway ticket back to Seattle, and left for the airport within the hour.

Gavin didn’t return to our apartment until the following evening.

When he saw me sitting on the couch, he marched over, his face dark with anger. "Why did you just disappear like that? Do you have any idea how worried I was?" I stared at him.

His version of worry didn't include a single phone call or text.

He noticed my packed suitcase by the door and ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling over. "Are you seriously doing this because I didn't babysit you for one evening?

How old are you, Maeve? Running away like a teenager?" I kept packing in silence. In the past, I fought because I believed things could be fixed.

Now, I simply didn't have the words. He stepped closer, his voice softening into that familiar, condescending tone. "Be reasonable.

Every time we have a disagreement, you blow it completely out of proportion.

Stop being so dramatic." He reached into his bag. "Look, Selena spent hours picking out a souvenir for you.

I brought it back." He set a beautifully carved wooden sculpture on the table—and then handed me a cheap, generic refrigerator magnet. Of course. It was always like this.

The thoughtful, expensive gifts went to her; the cheap afterthoughts went to me. I had stayed quiet for years because I didn't want him to think I was materialistic.

But the silence had only made me invisible. "Am I really that cheap to you, Gavin?

Do I only deserve a refrigerator magnet?" His face twisted with irritation. "You’re the one who said you loved collecting magnets!

I went out of my way to buy you one on every single trip!" When we first started dating, we had no money.

I had lied and told him I only cared about magnets because I didn't want him spending his rent money on me. Now, that lie was being used to justify my secondclass status.

I walked over to the fridge, pulled off every single magnet one by one, and threw them into the trash. "If I have it, Selena gets a version of it.

But when did I ever get the things you bought for her?" The room fell dead silent. Then, a sharp "clack" echoed as a coffee mug was knocked over on the counter. I turned around.

Gavin wasn't even looking at me. His eyes were glued to his phone screen, his expression tense and panicked. I walked over and glanced at the screen.

It was Selena’s Instagram story. A photo of a dimly lit restaurant table with the caption: "‘First blind date.

Wish me luck!’" along with a location tag. "Why are you so panicked about her going on a date?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

His eyes darted around, avoiding mine. "She’s too naive. She doesn't know how dangerous these setups can be. What if this guy is a creep?

Who even set her up with him?" It was almost funny watching him struggle to maintain his composure. "I have to make sure she’s safe," he muttered, grabbing his keys and heading for the door.

I grabbed my purse and followed him out. He drove in absolute silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

The moment we arrived at the restaurant, he stormed inside, located her table, and slid into the booth right next to Selena. "We’re leaving," Gavin said, his voice dropping into a hard, commanding register. "This date is over." The man sitting across from them looked offended. "Who the hell are you to tell her what to do?" Gavin wrapped his arm tightly around Selena’s waist, pulling her flush against his side.

He lifted his chin, staring the man down. "Get lost." The man stood up, cursing under his breath. "Unbelievable.

If you have a boyfriend, don't waste my time." Once the man was gone, Gavin looked at the table, reaching out to push a plate away. "You hate cilantro.

Why did he order this?" He picked up a plate of shrimp, cracked one open, and quietly placed the peeled meat on Selena’s plate. "Why did you suddenly go on a blind date?" he asked, his voice softer now.

Selena shot a nervous, guilty look in my direction. "I don’t know what Maeve said to my mom, but my mom suddenly became obsessed with setting me up." Gavin whipped his head around to glare at me, his eyes burning with fury. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?

You’re trying to throw your best friend to the wolves." He stood up, stepping between Selena and me. "Are you trying to ruin her life?" In reality, Selena’s mother had asked me about her dating life, and I had simply suggested she let Selena find someone naturally.

I had no idea her mother would react by arranging an immediate blind date.

But looking at Gavin standing there like a knight shielding his princess, I realized explanations were pointless. "Believe whatever you want," I said.

Gavin let out a dry, angry laugh. "If you’re so obsessed with blind dates, why don't you go on one?

Go marry some stranger." I nodded slowly. "And I assume you’re going to act as her boyfriend and go home with her now?" I picked up my purse and walked out.

Before I even reached the street, a text from Selena popped up. "Maeve, you’re misunderstanding.

He was just worried about me and spoke without thinking." I replied: "I’m not misunderstanding.

You can have him." A second later, a furious voice memo from Gavin arrived. "Maeve, what the hell is your problem texting Selena like that?

Don’t act like you’re the only girl in the world." The clicking of my heels on the pavement sounded steady, clear, and final.

By the time I got back to the apartment, I had my bags dragged to the door.

Just as I was about to walk out, my phone lit up with a text from a mutual friend who worked at the local clinic. "Hey, is Selena okay?

I just saw her come into the ER during my shift." My chest tightened. Despite everything, five years of friendship couldn't be erased in an instant. I hurried to the clinic.

When I found her room, Selena was curled up in Gavin’s arms, her eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw me, she pulled away, her expression shifting into deep unease.

I stood at the foot of the bed, my face expressionless. "Are you okay?" She stammered, unable to find words. Gavin stood beside her, his head bowed in a heavy, suffocating silence.

Before I could ask anything else, the door swung open. Selena’s mother rushed into the room, her eyes blazing.

She bypassed me entirely, marching straight to Gavin and shoving a finger into his chest. "You miserable bastard," she hissed. "You’re the one who got my daughter pregnant?" My breath caught.

I instinctively tried to smooth it over. "Mrs. Palmer, there must be some—" But Gavin didn't deny it. He hung his head, looking like a man accepting his sentence. "I’m sorry, Mrs.

Palmer. I’ll take full responsibility." The room went entirely cold. The blood rushed out of my face, leaving a deafening ring in my ears.

Selena panicked, grabbing her mother’s arm. "Mom, please! We’ve actually been together for a long time. We just didn't know how to tell you.

He’s incredibly good to me, I promise." I stood frozen as Selena kept talking, her voice fading into background static. I looked at Gavin, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

He kept making subtle gestures with his hands, signaling for me to stay quiet, to play along. When Mrs.

Palmer finally left the room to settle the billing, the silence rushed back. "Is it true?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Selena’s eyes flooded with tears. "I’m sorry, Maeve." With those four words, the last remaining piece of my heart withered. "The relationship story was just to appease my mom," she sobbed. "But... the baby is real." I took a sharp breath.

She reached out, trying to grab my hand. "You know how I’ve always felt about marriage. I wanted a child, but I didn't want a husband.

Gavin has such incredible genetics, and he’s so responsible, so I thought..." She couldn't finish the sentence, her head dropping as she began to weep. "I never wanted to take him from you.

I just wanted a baby." Gavin stepped forward, shielding her from me. "She just wanted to be a mother, Maeve. It’s not like she did this out of malice. She’s your best friend.

Can you really stand there and condemn her to being alone for the rest of her life?" I wanted to scream.

I wanted to ask him how he could look at his girlfriend of five years and defend the fact that he had fathered a child with her best friend.

I wanted to ask if he felt even a shred of remorse. But the energy had completely left my body. Seeing my silence, Selena grew frantic.

She grabbed my sleeve, her grip tight. "Please, Maeve. If you don't forgive me, I don't know how I can go on living.

Please." With every ounce of strength I had left, I flung her hand off. I turned toward the door, but behind me, Selena let out a hysterical cry and lunged toward the concrete wall.

Gavin caught her just in time, pinning her to his chest before she could hurt herself. "Are you happy now?" Gavin roared at me, his eyes wild. "Just tell her you forgive her!

Do you want her to die?" When I didn't move, he gripped my shoulders, shaking me. "Say it, Maeve! Say it!" Mrs. Palmer walked back in at that exact moment.

Seeing the chaos, she shoved me away from them. "What is wrong with you two?" she screamed. "Are you trying to kill my daughter?" Selena sobbed into her hands. "Mom, don’t.

It’s not Maeve’s fault." Whatever Mrs.

Palmer took from that, she immediately pulled out her phone and dialed my mother’s number, leaving a furious voice mail: "‘Your daughter is a homewrecker.

She’s trying to ruin my daughter’s life over a man.’" My head throbbed with a blinding pain. I turned around, grabbed my suitcase from the hallway, and walked out.

As I hailed a cab outside, Gavin ran out, blocking the passenger door before I could close it. "Selena is unstable right now, Maeve," he pleaded, his face pale and desperate. "Her only wish is to have you there.

If you come back inside, I’ll do whatever you want. We can get married. We can go to the courthouse tomorrow.

I’ll give you the wedding you’ve always wanted." I looked at him, feeling nothing but a profound sense of disgust. "We’re done, Gavin." "Stop playing games," he snapped, his desperation turning into venom. "Every time you pack your bags, you just spend a night at a hotel and come crawling back.

We’ve lived together for five years. You think you can just walk away? At your age, you’re just damaged goods.

You need to think about your future." Looking at his sneering, desperate face, I realized I didn't even recognize him anymore. I slammed the door shut. "Drive," I told the cabby.

A minute later, my mother called, her voice trembling. "Maeve, what on earth is happening?" "Gavin got Selena pregnant," I said, my voice dead and level.

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end. "Come home, honey," she whispered. I looked out the window at the passing city skyline.

Five years ago, I had driven down these same streets with a heart full of hope. I never imagined it would end like this.

I reached into my phone, popped the SIM card out, and threw it out the window, tossing five years of foolishness into the wind.