"I can't tell you the last time I used one of those."
Her brow furrows as she works to decipher my words. Then, her gaze follows my line of sight. "One of...oh." Her hand flies to her mouth. "You think...you think you might be pregnant? I thought you were on the pill?"
For half a second, relief floods through me. "I am." But then reality crushes back in, and I release a shaky breath. "But I missed two weeks when we went to Spain. Trigger gave me ten minutes to pack. I was so focused on grabbing clothes, I didn't..."
I don't tell her I didn't think I'dneedthem. That this was supposed to be temporary. That he was never supposed to end up in my bed, under my skin, and thoroughly wrapped around my heart.
"I refilled it when we got home, but?—"
"But for two weeks, you were having unprotected sex." She finishes what I can't.
I nod. "Yep."
I've never told Sydney and Laney the whole truth about my marriage. I don't think they completely bought the story we sold that night at the wedding, but the roots don't matter anymore. I love him. I'm not leaving him.
"So what are you going to do?"
"I need to take a test." I stand, my legs still shaky. "I'll reschedule with my dad."
"What?" Sydney's voice spikes. "Why would you do that? You're already here."
I don't know why she's so insistent that I have this conversation today. You'd think that out of the two of us, she'd care the least about me confronting him. I blink the thought away.
"I can't talk to him with this hanging over my head. My mind will be anywhere but in that room. I have toknow." I move past her toward my bedroom.
"Wait," she practically screeches.
I turn and find her biting the edge of her thumb, her face pale. "I have a test."
The words land like stones.
"You have a test?" I question carefully. "Why do you have a pregnancy test?"
"I wasn't supposed to say anything." The words tumble out too fast, like she’s nervous. "That's why I'm here instead of Laney. She got sick this morning and asked me to pick one up for her. Please don't tell her I told you."
She's already crossing to her purse, digging through it before I can form a word, but something doesn't fit. I watch her fumble with the zipper, and a certainty settles in my gut. Sydney has known Laney since they werechildren. She was there the day everything changed, and we held our friend as we heard the news that there most likely won’t be a next time. There's no way Sydney forgot that. Which means this test was never meant for Laney.
She pulls the box from her purse and crosses to me. Our eyes meet for just a fraction of a second, and in that look, there’s something raw and unguarded, before she glances away. I take the box without a word. Whoever this test wasreallymeant for, I'll find out when she's ready to tell me. Or I won't. That's her ghost to carry. Right now, I have my own.
She nods toward the door, backing away like she can't leave fast enough. "I'll give you a minute."
"Yeah. Okay."
The door clicks shut, and I'm alone. Just me and a piece of plastic that holds more future than I can process.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
TRIGGER
Sneaking into Warrick's house wasn't nearly as complicated as Asha made it out to be. I walked right in through the back door. The staff isn't as familiar with my face as they are hers. I could be a trainer, stable hand, guest, or any number of people who frequent the property.
I head toward the west side of the house, remembering that Asha mentioned his office overlooks the west lawn. As I move down the hallway, my senses go on alert. I hear two people speaking in hushed tones. I stick to the wall, scanning every corner as I inch closer. The voices become more distinct with each step.
My fists ball on instinct; it can't be helped. I hate being right, but more than that, I hate the deception. I hate it for my wife.
The library stretches before me, floor-to-ceiling mahogany shelves lined with leather-bound volumes that probably cost more than most people's cars. And there, standing in the shadows beside a ladder propped against the far bookcase, stand Sydney and Warrick.
"Aren't you supposed to be helping my wife?" The words come out sharp, edged with irritation I don't bother to hide.
