Now it feels like if I admit it, the question will hang in the air:Why didn’t you tell me sooner?
I didn’t tell her because I thought I could fix it.
But I can’t. Not without breaking her trust and her relationship with her sister.
I bite my lip, staring at the papers.I need to find another job. A better one.
I stayed here even with the low pay, because Brooke worked for Marx United too. I liked us being together, liked feeling like we were building something side by side. And I had seniority.
Now I have neither.
So, it’s time to start over.
But I can’t. Not yet. Not without another sure job lined up. Not without something with at least the same benefits, preferably better. The rent, the baby, the hospital bills, everything we’re standing on right now is balanced on a foundation that’s starting to crack.
And speaking of benefits… I should get that insurance policy to Brooke. She asked to read it this morning. I played it off like I had it all figured out, like I’d negotiated the childcare coverage myself, but the truth?
I have no idea what’s in that damn policy.
When I was hired, I didn’t care about daycare or paternity leave. I wasn’t planning on a kid. I wasn’t planning on needing any of this. I was too busy thinking about where I’d live in Paris, how many hours I’d get, when I’d leave and how I’d tell my friends or Brooke goodbye.
Back then, the future felt like an open door.
Now it feels like a locked one, and I’m standing on the wrong side without a key.
I exhale slowly and rub my palms over my face. I have to tell Brooke. I should tell Brooke. She’s my wife. My partner. The person I promised I’d share everything with.
But how the hell am I supposed to ask her to choose between our future and her sister?
As if reading my thoughts, my phone buzzes.
‘First payment fo…’
I don’t open the message. I don’t need to. I already know what it says. They want money I don’t have.
I’ve been turning this mess over and over in my head for weeks, and honestly, the only plan that ever surfaces is the stupid one. Divorce. If Brooke and I split, our expenses would too. I could transfer everything I’ve got into her account, keep her and Penny safe.
It’s not just reckless, it’s illegal. Fraud, or close enough. And yeah, I could get arrested. Not to mention it’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever had.
The second option’s no better, but at least it’sreal: go to Stella directly. Tell her the truth before Brooke finds out. She’ll hate me for going behind her back. She’ll be hurt. But at least it won’t destroy her relationship with her sister.
Because one way or another, I have to press charges against Zeke. There’s no other choice anymore.
I nod to myself.
Next week I have Wednesday off. I’ll go to New Jersey, talk to Stella, warn her. Then I’ll come home, tell Brooke everything, and hope to God, she’s not too pissed.
Chapter Nineteen
Brooke
I wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder while I twist the cap onto my water bottle. Yes, it’s winter. Yes, it’s cold water. No, I don’t need a TED Talk about how it “shocks the organs,” thanks.
“What do you think it is?” Becks asks. Her voice is tiny through the phone, all breath and bustle, she’s always doing three things at once.
“I don’t know,” I say, and even I can hear the shrug. “We kind of skipped the getting-to-know-each-other’s-tells part of the relationship.”
“Didn’t you two used to be friends?” she says.
