The house smells the same, like pinewood, coffee, and memories I’ve tried to forget. The familiarity of it almost drops me to my knees.
And then I see him.
Carl.
Sitting on the couch like he belongs there, flipping through a magazine, completely at ease. His gaze lifts when he hears me. Our eyes meet for one tight, loaded second. I glance back at Liam. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t explain. Of course he doesn’t. I don’t stop walking. Don’t give either of them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I just keep going, straight to the guest room.
I shut the door behind me and press my back against it, chest heaving, eyes burning. I don’t cry. Not yet. Not again. But I feel it coming. Because this time I think I really broke something I can’t fix.
I sink down onto the mattress and bury my face in my hands. The tears come before I can stop them. Hot, bitter, silent. I cry for everything. For the babies growing inside me. For the way he looked at me like I was a stranger. For the proof he demanded. For how easily he let me walk away again.
I cry because I feel stupid.
Because part of me still wants to believe him.
Still wants to be wanted.
Still wants this place to be home.
A soft knock startles me. I wipe my face quickly, trying to pull myself together.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open, and Carl steps in.
I stiffen, unsure of what the hell he could possibly want right now.
Carl leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he drawls, syrupy-sweet and twice as bitter. “Guessing this little reunion didn’t go quite the way you rehearsed it.”
My stomach turns.
“What do you want?” I snap, not bothering to pretend I’m glad to see him.
“Easy, sweetheart. Heard you crying and figured I’d be a gentleman and check on you.” He steps further into the room, slow and deliberate. “Heard you found that thong and got all riled up.”
I say nothing. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
He smiles wider, like silence is its own kind of victory. “Also heard you’re claiming to be pregnant with his kids. Just like I told him you would.”
That makes me stand. My fists curl at my sides.
“What do you want,Mr. Stone?”
His brows lift. “Mr. Stone? So formal.” His tone turns cold. “What I want is simple. I want you gone. Me and Liam finally have something real going on here, and I’m not going to sit by and let you ruin it.”
I laugh, sharp and humorless. “No. What you really mean is that Liam’s distracted. If I stay, he’s going to see what’s happening. That you’re leeching off him, and you know it.”
His jaw twitches. I’ve hit a nerve.
“How dare you.”
“You forget something, Mr. Stone,” I say, stepping toward him now. “I did the books, and I handled the records for Liam. I’ve seen every little ‘loan’ you talked him into. Every check. Every favor. Every excuse.”
His face darkens. “That’s none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t,” I shoot back. “I watched Liam bend over backwards to clean up after you. Again and again. And now, when he’s finally starting to build something real, you’re the one trying to tear it down by coming after me.”
