“It’s not Sienna,” I whisper, knowing we’re edging the danger zone.
“I don’t care who it fucking is, Josie. We need to talk. Jesus, you won’t even look at me, baby,” he croaks, voice full of emotion.
My head shakes unprompted, pressure builds behind my eyes, threatening to spill across my lashes. If I let them fall, they’ll drown us all.
“Look.”
“I haven’t stopped looking at you since I walked in this house.”
“Not me. Outside. The playhouse.” My curt responses are the best I can muster.
His boots stomp against the floor, bypassing me for the other side of the kitchen table that offers a better view of that side of the yard.
“You finally hired someone to help with the outside chores?”
A defeated laugh puffs from my chest. He can’t see it yet. But up close it’s undeniable. Trenton looks just like his father. Spitting image. A twin, twenty-plus years younger than him.
“Who’s Miranda, Vik?” I ask, finally turning to take in my husband. I need to see the look on his face, but it’s blank and clueless.
“Miranda who, woman? What the hell are you going on about?” he asks, closing the space between us, but my arms shoot out, stopping his approach.
Fuck, I don’t know her last name. Not only did she give her son my husband’s first name, but she also gave him his last. For a woman who didn’t seem interested in introducing them when she was alive—to my knowledge—she sure as hell made him well-equipped to come searching the day she left this world. I wonder if that was her plan all along.
My hysterical laughter bubbles free. There’s no stopping it.My body doubles over, core tightening, until the tears from earlier fall freely. This is so fucked.
“I don’t know her last name.” I huff through a dying last laugh. “But think back about fifteen years. Gorgeous leggy brunette, used to hang around the club, if the photo I saw was to be believed.”
Worry etches between his brows as he watches me lose my mind. Then clarity replaces it, and he pales. An impressive feat with his naturally milky complexion.
That’s what I thought.
“What’s this about?” he asks, catching the lip of the kitchen table.
Before I can answer, the back door crashes open.
“Daddy!” Haley squeals, launching herself at her dad’s legs.
Vik’s distracted for a moment, but her shadow follows cautiously, closing the door with a haunting latch that steals everyone’s attention.
“Daddy, look, I made a new friend. His name’s Trenton.”
Vik’s gaze stalls, then swings to me and back to his son. It’d be comical if the realization of the puzzle pieces slipping into place wasn’t an a-bomb imploding my perfect little life.
Shaking my head, I reach out my hand toward Hals. “Hey, baby, let’s go make some lunch.”
She scowls her displeasure of being swindled away from her dad, who’s been gone for days. But right now isn’t the right time for Vik and me to have this conversation. Whether I like it or not, these two need to sit down and figure their shit out first.
Vik ruffles her hair and then scoots her in my direction without taking his attention off Trenton, whose hands are shoved back in that damn black hoodie.
“Talk. We’ll be in the kitchen, then I think I’ll take Haley over to Lexi’s for the afternoon. You have my number if you need me, Trenton.”
I shouldn’t be his support in this situation, but I feel a kinship with him. After the last couple of days slowly getting to know each other, the similarities of our single mom upbringing are so jarring, I’m pretty sure they triggered a few repressed memories, if the nightmares I’ve been bombarded with are anything to go on.
His shoulders relax and pull back, looking a little more sure of himself. He nods and gives me a sad smile before I squeeze Haley’s hand and back away into the walled-off kitchen.
GHOST OF GIRLFRIENDS PAST
VIKING
