“Well, I’m glad I’m entertaining you.” I sit straighter. “Have you heard from Rabbit?” I ask. It’s been days since she saw him, and she hasn’t stopped smiling or checking her phone like a lovesick teenager.
“He’s on a job tonight. Some meeting. Said it’s a fancy place and totally out of his comfort zone.” I grin. Rabbit hates anything that forces him out of his oil-stained jeans. “He sent me a pic,” she adds, practically vibrating. “He’s in ashirt.”
She opens the photo and hands me her phone. Rabbit’s front and centre, grinning like an idiot in a mirror selfie.
“He actually looks quite cute,” I say, zooming in.
And then I see him in the background.Kade.
My heart stutters. Because he’s not alone. His arm is around another woman’s shoulders. They’re standing close, talking to a man whose back is to the camera. She’s smiling up at Kade, bright and wide.
And he’s smiling back. He’s also in a shirt, and he’s not wearing his kutte, which almost never happens.
Something in my chest twists, sharp and mean.
I must be staring too long, or maybe my face has already given me away, because Martha leans over and gasps when she sees where I’ve zoomed in.
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
I blink hard, shove the phone back into her hand, and stand on shaky legs. “I’m shattered,” I say abruptly, “and I’ve got to be up early for the scan. Goodnight.”
“Eden, wait—”
I walk towards the stairs, keeping my back to her, willing my voice not to crack. “I can’t do this right now, Martha. Just . . . leave it.”
And before she can say anything else, I disappear upstairs, swallowing the ache burning its way through my chest.
I don’t sleep much. My mind won’t stop chewing through questions I shouldn’t care about.Stupid things. Pointless things.
Does he love her?
Was he seeing her before I left?
Was she the real reason he grew distant?
I groan and scrub a hand over my face, catching my reflection in the mirror. I look pale, exhausted. Nothing like myself.
The bedroom door opens, and Martha slips inside, wrapped in her dressing gown, sniffling miserably into a tissue.
Instant panic flares, and I stand quickly. “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head, her voice croaky. “I feel terrible. My throat’s killing me, and I started throwing up in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, Martha.” I step closer, pressing a hand to her warm forehead. “You’re burning up. You need to get straight back into bed.”
“But the scan—”
“It’s fine.” I force a reassuring smile I don’t feel. “You can’t go infecting every pregnant woman at the clinic. Honestly, I’ll be okay.”
She holds out her car keys with a pitiful little sigh. The car barely sees daylight since we moved here. “Take Wanda,” she murmurs. “And call me the second you’re out. I want to knoweverything.”
“I will,” I promise, squeezing her arm before guiding her back to her room.
By the time I reach the car, I’m a mess of nerves. My hands shake as I start the engine. I grip the steering wheel, resting my forehead against it, breathing through the tightness in my chest.
I’malmostcertain everything is fine. I’ve felt the baby move, little flutters that warm me from the inside, but still, doubt whispers in the back of my mind. After everything I’ve been through, it’s not impossible that something could be wrong.
A tap on the window makes me yelp.
