“Yes, I knew Ace wanted a little boy for a long time. It was hard, but I decided to wait until it’s born to find out whether it’s a boy or girl.”
I started coughing out of nowhere. With one hand partially covering my mouth, I asked, “Ace?”
Her brown eyes brightened, and her smile grew. That was the moment I knew full well that she did not come into this urgent care, of all places, by accident. Nor was it likely that she was experiencing any abdominal pain.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” She rubbed her belly. “It must’ve slipped his mind. You know, between his hectic schedule as a pilot and him spending all of his extra time with me, helping me pick out baby names and deciding on the right furniture for the nursery, he must’ve forgotten to tell you.”
I stood up from the stool so forcefully that it pushed back against the wall, causing a loudthud.
“Why the hell are you really here?”
Her mask fell away, and she narrowed her eyes on me. “Because I wanted you to know you’re getting in the way of Ace’s real family.” She hopped off the exam table with more agility than any woman claiming to be in pain should’ve.
“Whatever history the two of you have is just that. History. We…” She glanced down and rubbed her belly, “are his future.”
I shook my head. “You’re lying,” I insisted. “Probably not even pregnant.” I mumbled. I’d heard stories of women faking pregnancies to keep a man around.
Hell, some of those crazy-ass women went so far as to try and steal an actual baby from a new mother. At that point, I didn’t put such craziness past the woman standing in front of me.
“Feel for yourself.” Without hesitation, she grabbed my hand, pulling me to her and planting it against her belly.
The distinct hardness of a pregnant belly met my palm. This wasn’t a pillow stuffed into a pair of jeans for show. And when I felt movement underneath my palm, I pulled my hand away as if it burned me.
Tricia wasn’t faking this pregnancy.
“We’re going to be very happy,” she said, patting her stomach and swaying a little with a smile on her face. “Ace told me so. He said he wants to divorce you. Then we’ll join him in Germany. The two of us.”
I took a few steps backward and swallowed down the curses I wanted to let fly. She didn’t deserve my anger or anything else from me.
Instead of giving her the satisfaction of seeing me riled up, I lifted my chin and looked her in the eye. “Well, obviously, you’re feeling better. The pain that brought you into Brightside has seemed to resolve itself. Though, I would advise you to make an appointment with your OB at your earliest convenience, just to make sure you and baby are doing fine.”
We had a stare-off for a few seconds before Tricia turned and exited the exam room without another word. Still, she wore that smile that made me want to smack the hell out of her.
As I stood there, staring at the empty doorway, I flexed and tightened my hands into fists. I had no right to be angry. If she was as far along as she said, it was before I’d even come back into town.
Ace and I weren’t together and hadn’t even seen one another in years until that point. Legally, we were still married, but he’d been free to do whatever or whomever for a long time.
But it did beg the question of whether or not he was still sleeping with her? Was he screwing me and then going to do the same with her in her bed? Did he honestly work those long overnights, or was he going over to Tricia’s house and cuddling with her as he rubbed her belly and spoke to the baby in her womb the way he used to do with me?
Bile rose in my throat. I had to turn off those thoughts. I still had paperwork to get through before I could leave.
While working, I made the decision not to confront Ace about it when I got home. Within a few months, our marriage would be over. He’d said he wanted to forget me.
Maybe it was my time to finally learn to forget Ace Townsend the same way he worked so hard to forget me.
* * *
Ace
“Mr. Ace, can we practice playing catch?” Aiden asked as we pulled into my driveway. I’d picked him up from a friend’s house on my way home from the base.
From the car in the driveway, I knew Savannah was already home. She was likely preparing the pot roast I’d seen her put into the crockpot that morning.
“We should probably see if your mom needs any help in the kitchen beforehand,” I told him after I put the car into park.
Aiden frowned and groaned. “But we’re men. Men shouldn’t have to help in the kitchen.”
I jutted my head back and stared at the kid in my passenger seat. “Since when did you develop these ideas? You’ve been helping your mom in the kitchen since you moved in.”
