And right there. A photo of the CEO in front of the house where we’d attended more than a few Christmas parties. Followed by a list of lower-level executives, advisors, brokers. And then… there it is.
Beckett Carrington, Senior Portfolio Manager.
I stare at it like it might disappear if I blink. But it doesn’t.
He’s part of this.
My stomach twists so violently I press my fist to it.
This… It doesn’t make sense. Beckett’s an amazing dad. He’s the man that I love. And this… It’s not right.
He’s one of the good guys. Always has been.
But now the FBI—the world—is saying otherwise.
The car slows as we turn onto my street. Our street.
We pull into the driveway. Noah puts the car in park, turns off the ignition, and everyone climbs out. Me, moving a little bit slower.
By the time I go around to help unload the trunk, I realize… They’ve totally emptied it out.
“What are you doing?” I catch up to them and the boys at the porch, searching my purse for the key. “I thought you guys had a hotel.”
“We’re not leaving you alone with the boys tonight,” Luna says.
I blink. “You don’t have to?—”
“No,” Luna says, tugging her suitcase up the step. “We’re staying. At least until this gets ironed out.”
“But your honeymoon—Paris….”
“—can be rescheduled,” Noah cuts me off.
I shake my head even as we all shuffle inside.
“This isn’t—this isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to?—”
“Stop,” Luna says as she flips the closest light switch on. “You’ve always been there for me.” Her eyes soften as they meet mine. “It’s my turn now.”
I stare straight ahead, throat closing, and then, because I don’t know what to say, I just nod. And when l go to help Noah with the boys’ luggage, my legs almost give out.
Later that night,after quick baths, a bedtime story, and a dozen reassurances I wish I actually believed, I wander back to the kitchen, not quite sure what to do with myself.
Luna’s at the table, a mug of tea cupped in both hands.
“Noah’s lying down,” she says as I sink into the chair across from her. She’s stayed here dozens of times in the past—knows where to find towels, extra blankets, whatever they need in the guest room.
“What should we do?” she asks, even though she looks just as wrung out as I feel. “Want me to whip up some goodies? Or we could watch a movie? Something mindless?”
Luna and Noah were meant to be celebrating tonight, preparing for their honeymoon tomorrow—this big romantic trip to Europe that I know Noah must have pulled out all the stops for. I should make them go.
I mean, after everything Beckett and I did so they’d have the perfect wedding…
But I don’t have it in me.
“That’s really sweet,” I tell her gently. “But I’m fine. Honestly, you can just go to bed if you want. With your husband.”
She gives me a doubtful look.
