My tail tucks as I take in his meaning. “You think I shouldblackmailher?”
“I think you should do whatever it takes to keep your pups safe,” he says grimly, clapping me on the shoulder before striding past me toward the cabin. “You got any of those pies around here, brother? I’m starving.”
Chapter 22
Julia
Imake sure I’m in bed with the light off before Richard gets home from his late flight. He’ll be in a better mood to hear the news in the morning than he will tonight, after a long day of work and travel. Despite the fact that the smell of the cleaners made me queasy, I got the house scrubbed top to bottom, all my kimchi containers moved over to Heidi and Nicole’s garage fridge, and clean sheets in the master bedroom even though nobodyhas slept in it since he left. He shouldn’t have anything to complain about.
I’m wrong, of course. The first thing he says to me in the morning when I stumble into the kitchen is, “Pajamas?”
I look down at my purple flannel PJs. Normally, when he’s home, I get dressed before I do anything else. Richard is a big believer that pajamas should never leave the bedroom. But when he’s gone, I like to stay in my comfy, cozy night clothes while I have my morning coffee. I just forgot.
“Pregnancy brain,” I blurt.
Well. That was one way to go about breaking the news.
He doesn’t react. Not right away. He sets his mug down on the granite counter beside him with an audibleclink. “Julia,” he says too-calmly, like I’m a small child who has misbehaved. “We’ve talked about this.”
“I know, I agreed not to bother you with the medical details. I just thought this was important. Something you’d want to know. I’m not trying to violate the contract or go back on my word or anything.” I clench my jaw to make myself stop babbling. That annoys him more than anything.
He ignores me, continuing, “Adults wear clothing in public.”
Oh. He meant about the pajamas. “This isn’t public. This is my house.”
He arches one eyebrow, mouth twisting. “Is it?”
With that, he picks up his coffee, sips it, and walks out of the kitchen toward his home office. I hear the door latch behind him, and then I rush to the half-bath to lean over the toilet and hurl.
Of course, Richard had to remind me about the house. This ishishouse. His wealthy family already owned it before we got married, so the prenup spells it out clearly: if we split, I’m the one who has to move out, and I have no claim on it. In the past, he’s mentioned several times that he’ll sell it or rent it out if we divorce. The girls would have to move out, too. He’d throw away their childhood home just to get back at me if I leave him.
It’s always seemed worth it to stick it out so they can have stability, but today…today, it’s not feeling so worth it. I’m probably just extra vulnerable because of the pregnancy hormones, though. My boobs are sore, and I’m tired even though I went to bed early. This pup is already making its presence known.
I smile at that in spite of feeling like garbage. After cleaning up in the bathroom, I settle my stomach with the tea and crackers Ian got for me. It’s only then that I can have a positive attitude about how the conversation went. Namely, that Richard didn’t get pissed off when I mentioned being pregnant. What a relief.
I guess I’ve had an underlying fear that, despite his unbothered reaction to the whole idea, he’d flip out when I was actually carrying someone else’s baby. But he isn’t, so that’s good. Maybe we can get through this without any major upsets. Without involving the girls.
I pull out my phone and text the group chat with them even though it’s the middle of the night there: “I love you. I’m proud of you.”
“I love you, too, Mama,” Samantha messages back immediately.
“What are you doing awake?!?!”
“It’s Saturday night,” she returns, adding an eyeroll emoji. “We’re out.”
A picture comes through, a selfie with her, Molly, and four other girls, all grinning widely and doing cute poses for the camera. Anoraebangscreen is clearly visible behind them. It reminds me of how much fun I had at karaoke with my friends and Ian, and I well up immediately.
“Have fun, babies,” I type through my tears. “And be safe.”
“We will!” Molly adds in, including a bunch of heart, microphone, and music-note emojis, which is cute. She’s still so young. It’s hard to remember what it was like, being so brave and innocent and hopeful. I hope she and her sister keep that feeling for a long time.
I rub my lower belly. When should I tell them that they’re going to have half-siblings? Will it make my daughters think differently of me that I’m having one or more babies with a man other than their father?
Before I can torture myself thinking about it any more, a notification from Ian pops up on the screen. “How are you doing?”
Why is my heart pounding so fast, seeing his name come up on my phone? Maybe another pregnancy thing. “Fine,” I type back, adding a pregnant-lady emoji.
“Did you tell him yet?”
