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I’d seen Richard angry. I’d seen what happened when someone pushed him too far. I’d seen pieces of him Samantha probably couldn’t imagine existed, and none of it had made me leave.

I loved all of him.

I wasn’t stupid enough to think the baby erased Samantha or Seth. They weren’t going to disappear simply because I was pregnant.

Richard wouldn’t have to leave Seth. Things could be different. Seth could still have his father. My baby could have one too.

People get divorced every day. Parents separate all the time and still raise their children. Richard could leave Samantha without leaving Seth.

Samantha might be the one to leave once she found out. Then Richard wouldn’t even have to choose. She’d discover he’d been sleeping with me, learn I was pregnant, and realize she didn’t know the man she’d married nearly as well as she thought she did.

A flicker of guilt moved through me when I remembered how kind she’d been at the gala.

I pushed it away. I didn’t make Richard lie to her. I didn’t force him to keep coming back to me after he married her. Whatever happened between Richard and Samantha was their problem.

This baby was mine.

Ours.

I lay back across the bed and rested both hands over my stomach. Before I could stop myself, I started planning.

Richard and I would live somewhere that belonged to both of us. There would be a nursery down the hall and toys scattered across the rooms. Seth would visit and know his little brother or sister. One day we could have another baby. A boy and a girl. Or two boys. I didn’t care.

We would have family dinners and Christmas mornings. Richard would sit beside me while our children tore through wrapping paper, and I would never have to wait for the sound of his car to know whether I mattered that day.

For once, I wasn’t waiting for Richard to come back. I was planning what I would say when he did.

I’m pregnant.

I smiled down at the positive test.

This was finally gonna make Richard choose me.

Chapter 30

Richard

Maggie had been unusually agreeable all night.

Dinner waited when I arrived. My bourbon already sat poured. The house looked clean. She wore the red dress I liked and never once complained about Samantha, Seth, or the fact that I told her I couldn’t stay long.

That alone should have told me something was wrong.

The last time we fought I found empty bottles scattered through the house, dishes abandoned in the sink, clothes thrown across the bedroom, and Maggie looking like she had spent the two months I had been gone trying to drink herself unconscious. Tonight every trace of that woman had disappeared. She had cleaned herself up along with the house, curled her hair, put on makeup, and somehow made it through dinner without turning my absence into another personal betrayal.

She had also made damn sure I had very little reason to think about leaving.

Whatever she wanted, she had apparently decided she needed to earn my good mood first.

By the time I settled back against the couch I knew she wanted something. My glass rested against my knee while Maggie raced down the hall without explanation. I watched her go, listening to her footsteps move across the floor before they disappeared into the bedroom.

Maggie came back a few minutes later with one hand tucked behind her back. She paused in front of me.

The smile on her face looked different from the one she had worn through dinner. Less calculated. Almost nervous. Excited too.

I slowly lowered my glass.

“What?”