Bree must’ve found her happily-ever-after despite the havoc she’d wrecked on mine. I was surprised she could lift her left hand given the huge rock on her finger.
I took a deep, steadying breath before rapping my knuckles on her propped-open door.
She looked up and her mouth opened in surprise. “Jack!”
I nodded once, but didn’t smile. “Bree.”
“What a pleasant surprise!” She stood, straightening her tight skirt, and giving me a very obvious once over. “It’s been years—you look fantastic.”
“Do I?” I drew a deep breath. “That’s a shocker because I’m pretty freaking pissed right now.”
The smile on her face melted. Recognition skittered across her features before her jaw set.
I unclipped my cell phone at my side and tapped the home screen to illuminate a picture of Kacey and Miranda playing on the swing set at the park. I held it out for her to see. “You ever see that woman?”
She flicked her hand dismissively. “I don't know. Maybe.”
“Don’t lie to me. Donotlie.”
She looked up into my eyes. The truth was there—on full display for me to read.
“Answer me.”
“Sounds like you know.”
“Say it.”
A faint hint of a smile tugged at her lips. She made no move to speak, denying me information.
“That woman and mysonhave spent the last four years in hell, and I want to know if you’re the one responsible.”
I clipped the phone back as she crossed her arms over her chest. I refused to fill the silence. This woman was going to tell me the truth if I had to sit in her office till next week.
A few long moments passed before her jaw clenched with a tight swallow. “Fine. She came to your house that morning after the game. Remember?”
I nodded, my blood near boiling point. “And?”
“And I told her plain and simple. You were over her and she needed to move on.”
“Bree, she was?—”
“Pregnant?” She lifted her eyebrows. “Yes, I know.”
“And you knew because you read my mail.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, I’ve never been one to denymy curiosities. One envelope in your gigantic stack of mail had an Ohio stamp…I knew your ex lived there. So, I opened it.”
“Where is it?”
“The letter?”
“Yes.”
“I threw it away.” She scrunched her nose like the letter left a bad taste in her mouth. “Years ago.”
“You had no right to do that.” I drew a sharp, shuddering breath. Breaking my knuckles in the drywall would hurt less.
“But I did. What’s done is done, right?”
