Title: pink champagne cake
Fandom: good girls (tv)
Rating: teen
Length: 1076
Notes: canon divergence, s3e03 egg roll

“There they are, congratulations,” the doctor says, and Beth can’t help a small gasp as she looks at the screen, relief flooding through her. “Looks like conception was a little over a month ago?”

A month ago she wasn’t even talking to Dean. She was frustrated and thinking about –

Rio exhales an almost laugh, “At the bar.”

Shit.

Dean used to joke that her body knew trying was the best part, none of her kids conceived early. She feels her mind drifting, can’t help getting caught up in it. How is any of this going to work: with Dean, with her other kids, with Rio.

“Our receptionist, Angela, she’ll set you two up with regular check-ups. Anything else today?”

“Paternity test,” Rio says, and there’s a hysterical laugh tickling the back of her throat that she clamps down on.

“You can do that in around a month. We’ll add it to your next visit.”

“Cool. Thanks doc.”

Rio walks her out of the room, hand on the small of her back as he guides her back to the car. Doesn’t speak until they’re inside, reality crashing through the haze.

“Thought you knew babygirl,” he says, has that soft accusation that seeps into every word.

Beth swallows, grabs the nearest truth, “I didn’t – the timing. I thought it was later.”

Rio figures it out quick, a smug little smile, “Let’s save the celebrating for next time, yeah?”

.

She's making fruit popsicles – Kenny's favorites, Annie's too if she were making them with tequila – when Rio appears in her kitchen.

“Time to fast track your divorce mama," he says, comes closer, walks right into her space. She stops dicing fruit, hands still, one on the kiwi and one on her big quick knife, has a broken tip from a night early in their marriage when Dean tried cooking. She turns her head to him, and he's so damn close, can feel his body heat.

Beth blinks, feels slow as his words process.

“What, you didn’t think I’d let some idiot white man raise my kid did you?”

“No,” she breathes, still can’t believe it. There’s another two weeks until the paternity test is possible, he’s doing this early on purpose, she knows it. Threats laced into his words, into whatever he’s going to offer her next.

“Gotta have that healthy family environment, right PTA?”

“Right,” she echoes.

“Keys to the kingdom,” he says, pinkie brushing her hair out of her face. “Can you handle it this time? Or you gonna throw ‘em in my face again?”

She bristles, hates the little smirk that shows it's exactly what he was aiming for. Defensive tone already in her voice, “I don’t want my children – our child – to get mixed up in this life. I want them all safe.”

“Aight.”

“That easy?” Beth says, disbelieving. Nothing ever is with him. Nothing except – well, that’s what got them into this mess in the first place.

“You’re my girl. I got you.”

And damn it all, she believes him. Even knowing there's an eight month ticking clock on her life, she believes him. He backs away, feels like she can breathe again and she covers it up by returning to the kiwis.

Rio goes around the kitchen island, catching her eye again as he steals a raspberry, a distracting droplet of juice staining his lower lip.

"Take care of him."

Or I will, hangs unspoken in the air.

Chills settle at the base of her spine that have way too much to do with a distracting pair of lips, and not nearly enough with the threat to her soon-to-be ex-husband's life. Remembers being in the hospital, convinced he was dead and for the briefest of moments –

Beth chops faster, needs to get these in the freezer within the hour so they've properly set by the time school is over. When she looks up again, Rio is long gone, sense memory tripping her up that she can still smell his cologne.

.

Dean moves out.

Rio's money prepays the first few months of the apartment unbeknownst to him, though he must suspect. (“Oh it ain’t charity ma. You think I trust that bitter little fuck near you? 'Sides I like knowing where he sleeps.” Rio says when she asks, hand on her waist, possessive fingers curling in to her belly.) It makes the divorce papers a lot quicker, and she hates that Dean doesn’t fight harder for his kids. Doesn’t feel guilty about getting the bulk of custody or the house after that.

Dean has the kids for the weekend when the results come in, confirm Rio is the father.

Beth drinks sparkling grape juice, has a case of the crap due to her dear sister, and Rio opens a bottle of champagne. (She already knows what she’ll be baking if there are leftovers, hasn’t made a nice pink champagne cake in ages.)

.

“How much?” Beth asks over the remnants of breakfast, kids off to school with Annie.

“Hmm?” Rio answers, still tapping on his phone.

“How much am I worth to you? After the baby’s born.”

Rio puts the phone down at that, chuckles softly. “There ain't no number after.”

“Try me.”

“Everything. I want it all,” he says, and it knocks the air out of her lungs how quick the answer is, like he's been waiting on her to ask. “I want that king treatment mami. I want your ideas, your hands, your body, every last bit of you. No more percentages, you're mine.”

Beth swallows, recalibrating. There's no out, for real this time, can hear Ruby saying it in her head. “We’re going to need a new house then.”

“Is that right?”

Beth wets her lips, confident now. “Clean slate. New neighbors, new school, total safety.”

“Don’t tell me I’ve taught you nothing Elizabeth. Safety ain't absolute.”

“Safer then,” she amends, and he nods.

“There’s just one thing,” he says, ‘cause there always is, and Beth nearly groans imagining whatever job would be worth a house. Probably a whole cemetery of disposals.

“A little birdie was chirpin' bout you and me and this kitchen counter here and chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Blueberry,” she corrects, heat pooling in her gut.

“Blueberry,” Rio repeats, clicks his tongue. “And who knows what other details he got wrong. Gonna show me?”

Heat turns to fire in her veins, and as casual as she can, Beth unties her apron and places it to the side.

“Stand up.”