We hang up, and I shovel the rest of the Goldfish into my mouth. Talia can’t help herself being involved in the case with Peter. That’s just who she is, but I know if things get messy and Tate becomes involved to keep what I tell her to a minimum.
I’m about to make a trip to the toilet when a petite blonde approaches the table. She’s dressed in a beautiful black-and-white dress, and I recognize her as the couple’s niece from the speeches.
“Hi.” I smile. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. Or no. I’m not sure.” She frowns at the floor before shaking her head. “I won’t pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping on your phone call.”
Shit, did I say something about the suit? No, my conversation with Talia was vague to anyone overhearing, though I still laugh nervously. “Sorry, I have a habit of talking loud.”
“It wasn’t that.” She steps forward, eyeing my baby bump. Do people dislike pregnant woman in these parts? “Were you talking about Warren O’Connor?”
There’s no hiding my surprise. “Oh. Um, yes.” A sickly sensation creeps into my stomach. “How do you know him?”
Her curiosity shifts into a tight-lipped smile, and sympathy lines her face. “I worked with his wife, Alison.”
Ah. Now, the awkwardness makes sense. What if his ex is here? It’s not as if I have anything to feel guilty about. Their marriage ended years before we met.
“How is he? I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
I keep my response simple, unsure how much Warren would want me revealing. “He’s good. Keeping busy and working hard.”
Her eyes widen. “He’s still a firefighter?”
“Yes…”
She presses a hand to her chest. “Wow. We thought he would never go back after everything happened. I can’t believe it’s been eight years.”
I stand from my chair. “You’ll have to forgive me—baby brain—but what exactly happened?”
She stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Alison’s death.”
The room sways, and I grip the edge of the table. I’vemisheard her. The sun has gotten to me, and I’m experiencing sunstroke.
Oh, god.
“Are you okay? Do you need to sit?” the stranger asks. I don’t know her name, and she’s just unknowingly upended everything.
“I-I…” I’m trembling.
Warren’s wife is dead.
She died, and he never told me.
“Here, you sit, and I’ll get you some water.”
She scurries off, and I collapse onto a chair. I try piecing everything together: the evasion in discussing his marriage, not wanting to be in a relationship at first. But why? Why didn’t he tell me?
I fumble for my phone and find a text from Warren’s sister.
Diana: Hey, how are you? Just checking in to see how Warren’s doing too. Today can be rough for him, but I’m glad he’s got you.
FIFTY-THREE
WARREN
When I arriveat the firehouse, I keep my head down and go about my usual routine. I did the same when waking up today.
Harriet made us breakfast, cereal, but it was like cardboard and left a sour taste in my mouth. We spent the morning adding the finishing touches to the nursery and lounging on the sofa until I had to leave. From her point of view, nothing was amiss.
