That the person I married would never do this to me.
My stomach threatened to revolt right there, and, unwilling to subject Grafton to it, I ran from his office, only slowing once the elevator doors closed. I had walked stiffly out of the building, barely breathing, terrified that Christopher wouldappear.
I wouldn’t have been able to stop the vomit if he had, or the nasty words bubbling up inside me.
I couldn’t risk it.
Not yet.
I was still getting every duck into a row, and I couldn’t move until I did. Until I knew the children were protected.
I freeze as something occurs to me, my chin resting on the top of Ginny’s head. I need evidence to give to the lawyer—undeniable proof that Christopher is cheating.But didn’t Grafton just hand that to me on a silver platter?My heart thumps erratically in my chest.Can it really be that easy?
Ginny sniffles in my arms, lifting her wet face to peer at me, her eyes lined with red. “Momma, some ice cream might make me feel better.”
I cup her cheeks, wiping the tears away with my thumbs, and give her a gentle smile. “You know what? I think it would make me feel better too. Why don’t you get Mase, and we’ll go out?”
She sniffles one last time, but her eyes have dried up like the tears were never here. She pulls herself out of my arms and stomps back up to the stairs. “Mase!” she screams out, and I wince. “Get your butt down here! It’s time for an ice cream heist!”
“Heist,” I mouth, making a mental note to keep an eye on whatever she’s been watching. She’s dangerous enough. I don’t think she needs any help or ideas about ripping off an ice cream parlor or, god forbid, a bank.
Less than ten minutes later, a sour-faced Mase slumps down in the back seat as I pull the car out of the driveway.
I eye him in the rearview mirror. “What’s the matter? Did something happen at school?” He’s been quiet since I picked him up. That isn’t anything unusual for my seriousboy, but my instincts are firing as he turns his head to look out the window.
“No.”
“Come on, bud. What’s up?”
He lets out a sigh that seems far too weary for his nine-year-old body. “Jacob’s dad?—”
“Harrison,” I supply.
“Yeah, Harrison. He broke his leg.”
My brow furrows. “He did?”
“Yeah,” Mase grumbles. “He’s a firefighter. Someone said a house got set on fire, and he fell through a porch or something.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “And this is bad because…”
“Moooom,” he drags out with a groan, throwing his head back. “Harrison coaches, but now hecan’t.”
“Right, of course.” I knew that.Of courseI knew that, but it feels like I’m trying to unravel strands of cobwebs, my brain just stuttering on the way my husband pressed that other woman up against the windows, her skirt hiked up over her ass—afterhe spoke to me on the phone.
I squeeze the steering wheel, exhaling heavily. “Oh. So baseball is…?”
Mase’s voice is almost inaudible. “Canceled until they find someone else, I guess.” He sniffs loudly, his chin wobbling, but his eyes are dry. “I was just… I was really looking forward to it, you know?”
“I know, bud.” I keep my voice low, quiet. “It’s okay to feel that way, but you never know. They might find someone. And there’ll be other chances to play, right?”
His head swings around, dark blue eyes spitting fire as they lock with mine in the mirror. “Not this year,” he argues. “We only played one game, and now…” He breaks off, rolling his lips between his teeth, as if trying to lock down the reaction.
For several minutes, no one speaks. Even Ginny is unusually silent. I park outside the ice cream parlor on the main street of Sterling Creek, getting out and heading for Mase’s door. I open it, crouching down so we’re eye level. He watches me with a furrowed brow, and I reach in, stroking away the lines and his still-plump cheeks.
“You feel this,” I tell him. “And then you let it go. You don’t let this affect the rest of your day.”
He stares at me, eyes filling with the tears he’s been bottling down. “I don’t know how to do that.” He presses a small fist to his chest, just as my own eyes start watering, hating this for my baby, wishing there was something I could do to make it better.
