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Last October over green Thai curry, I sat across from my husband and told him I didn’t want to wait until I was forty. He said there was time.

I put one hand on my stomach, my other hand covering my mouth to muffle the sobs.

I’m going to have a baby. A baby that’s half mine, and half Raul’s.

I sit on the bathroom floor for a long time.

And somewhere in the middle of it, there’s a thing I keep coming back to that I’d be ashamed to say to anybody.

Him. It’s him. Of everybody on this earth, it’s the man who said no to me when I was drinking.

Eventually I get up, wash my face, and look at myself in the mirror. I’m almost thirty-four years old, and I’ve spent my whole life being the person who has a plan, but right now, I’ve got absolutely nothing.

There’s only one thing that’s clear to me.

I’m keeping it.

That one didn’t take me any time at all.

What I’m not sure about is whether I tell Raul. Whether I tell my mother, who’s offered me a job, or my sister, who’s in love with his sister, or my father, who signed a piece of paper for me to protect me from Declan and is currently the loneliest man in America.

I put the test back in the box and the box in the drawer.

Then I go and stand in my kitchen with a hand flat on my stomach, and I say it out loud once, in an empty apartment, to nobody else.

“Okay.”

CHAPTER 2 – Lexa

Wednesday, June 18

Esme Ryan has a bomb in her lap and she doesn’t look like she slept much last night.

She invited me for brunch to a diner in Glendale where nobody cares who either of us is. I called her back this morning, the way I told myself on the beach I would, and she named the place before I’d finished saying hello. She’s ordered pancakes but hasn’t touched them.

She’s about fifteen years older than me, tall, and the best independent reporter I’ve ever known, even though I’m not always inclined to admit it. Alycia’s the one who usually deals with her off camera.

“This better be important,” I say. “I could’ve slept in.”

Esme smiles. “I know. And you could’ve ignored me, but you didn’t. That’s why I like you.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere. Just tell me what’s so urgent.”

She turns serious. “It’s about Declan.”

“What about him?”

Esme pushes the plate an inch away from her. “I’ve been doing some digging, talking to some sources. It starts with the affairs, but by now, it’s so much bigger than that.”

“Just get on with it.”

“I know about Rebecca Harris,” she says. “And she’s not the only one.”

I go very still. I don’t want Rebecca to go through the public scrutiny, but if Esme’s telling the truth, that ship might have already sailed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Declan has a pattern. He goes after young, vulnerable players, ones who are desperate to make it in the league. He promises them opportunities, then uses and abuses them. And when he’s done, he discards them.”

“That’s disgusting,” I say. “But it’s not exactly surprising.”