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Maggie stood exactly where I had left her, one hand wrapped around the pregnancy test.

I adjusted the collar and reached for my keys.

She swallowed. “Why won’t you choose me?”

Her eyes followed every movement I made as though the simple act of putting on my jacket was another insult.

“Maggie, if I wanted you instead of Samantha, I’d already have you.”

Her face went completely still. I watched the last piece of whatever fantasy she had been holding onto disappear.

“You’ve spent years waiting for me to choose.” I opened the door. Cold ocean air pushed into the house. “I already did.”

I stepped outside and shut it behind me. The ocean air hit my face as I walked toward the car.

I was still furious. Maggie had stopped taking birth control without telling me, continued sleeping with me knowing damn well I would’ve stopped coming in her if I had known, and then spent an entire afternoon building a future around the consequences.

The arrogance almost impressed me.

She thought carrying my child finally put her beside Samantha. It did not.

Samantha was my wife. Seth was my son. That house was my home.

Maggie was still Maggie.

The difference was that before tonight I could’ve removed her from my life whenever I got tired enough of dealing with her. Now I didn’t want to. Not because she’d earned some permanent place beside me. Because she was carrying something that belonged to me.

My child.

That was the mistake she’d made. She thought pregnancy made her valuable enough to control me. What it actually did was give me something else I refused to lose.

I reached the car but didn’t open the door immediately. I looked back at the beach house. Light spilled from the windows onto the dark stretch of driveway. Somewhere inside, Maggie was probably still standing exactly where I’d left her.

I’d bought this place to keep her separate. Contained. Easy to access when I wanted her and easy to forget when I didn’t. Now she was carrying my child inside it.

Maggie had spent years wanting to belong to me.

Now she finally did.

She simply didn’t understood that belonging to someone like me was never going to feel like being loved.

Chapter 31

Richard

The nursery light cast a pale yellow glow across the hallway, exposing every flawless detail I had forced into this goddamn house.

Every surface was spotless. The color-coordinated throws were folded neatly. Framed photographs showed Samantha and me smiling with Seth between us, preserving a version of our family that only existed when someone held a camera.

I hated looking at them tonight.

Samantha sat in the rocking chair, humming the same irritating lullaby while she cradled Seth against her shoulder. She kissed the top of his head and whispered praise he could not understand. The sound repeated until my jaw began to ache from clenching it.

Maggie was pregnant.

She expected me to celebrate. Another Kincaid. Another child carrying my blood.

Instead, I wanted to put my fist through the nearest wall.