My best friend, Natalie, spent nearly a decade hopelessly in love with a boy named Billy who broke her heart in high school.
According to her, they were soulmates. According to him, they had barely even dated, and she was terrible in bed — or, on the couch, because they had never even made it into a bedroom.
Billy was bad news, and everyone who loved Natalie hated him. Thankfully, after high school, they both went their separate ways. Billy spent the next decade in and out of rehab for a drug problem and living in his parent’s basement. Natalie reached her goal of becoming a 4th-grade teacher and was happily engaged to a sweet redhead named Jason.
It wasn’t until Natalie’s wedding day that I heard her talk about Billy again.
While we stood in the church basement waiting for the Pastor to give us the signal that it was time, Natalie told all of us bridesmaids that she secretly hoped Billy would crash the wedding and whisk her away in the suped-up red Mustang he drove back in high school.
When she realized all of our mouths were hanging open in shock, she quickly laughed it off, and the ceremony went on as planned. Her comment was strange, but I brushed it off as a poorly timed joke or some pre-wedding jitters — I didn’t even consider asking her about it later.
Little did I know her untimely confession was just the tip of the iceberg.
Then comes baby
A year later, I stood by Natalie’s side again, this time as her birthing-buddy in the delivery room. I felt honored to experience the miracle of birth alongside my best friend and her husband as they welcomed their firstborn into the world.
I was already a mom of 3, but I had never actually watched someone give birth, and it was miraculous. Jason hated blood, so I ended up filling his role while he sat on the couch across the room, trying not to panic or vomit.
Once the baby arrived, they were a picture-perfect family of three. I was happy for my lifelong friend and knew she would be an excellent mom.
Then she blindsided me
A week after giving birth, she called me and confessed the baby might be Billy’s. My response was something like, “What in the ever-loving-f*ck are you talking about?” Followed by, “wait, are you talking about the dirtball Billy from high school?”
She admitted that she had been cheating on her new husband with Billy. She thought she could hide it from everyone, but the baby had dark eyes and hair. Natalie was a natural blonde with blue eyes like the ocean. Jason was a redhead with equally as beautiful baby blues.
It was clearly Billy’s baby. Even at a week old, her eyes were as dark as coffee beans, and her hair was black as night.
Natalie confessed everything to me, but not to Jason. The weight of her confession, and knowing her husband didn’t know, was a huge and exhausting burden.
I didn’t even know who she was anymore. She cheated on her husband and had clearly been lying to me and everyone else in her life for over a year. This was the kind of material you saw on Maury or Jerry Springer. I’m just a random suburban mom with basically zero drama in my life, and I had no idea how to deal with this.
Hours after she confessed to me, I gave her an ultimatum — tell Jason, or I will.
She argued with me and tried to find ways to avoid telling him. She hoped Billy would just fade into the background and not question why her child looked exactly like him. And that Jason wouldn’t wonder how their baby wound up with jet black hair and dark brown eyes.
She was delusional and grasping for anything to avoid responsibility. She had been my friend for long enough to know that’s not how I roll. I hate liars, cheaters, and people who don’t take responsibility for their garbage behavior.
She refused to tell him, so I did
I’ll never know if what I did was right or wrong. It felt like a betrayal, but what other choice did I have? She wasn’t going to tell him.
After that, I broke all ties with her.
My husband kept in contact with Jason for a few years, but the poor fool stuck around and found her cheating with yet another ex. She ended up getting pregnant again and dragged Jason through another round of “I don’t know who the daddy is.”
I’m usually a big supporter of the motto live and let live, but I just couldn’t stomach these circumstances.
Would you have kept a secret like that?