My eyes burn, but I don’t let a single tear fall. “If she’d asked me, I would have helped her,” I say quietly. “I would’ve found a way to help her. Instead, she basically sold me out, and then told me it was my fault.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I know something about shitty family members, but I wish you didn’t.”
“It’s not your fault.” I drag in a lungful of air, steadying myself. Needing the distraction, I shoot him a curious look. “You gonna tell me about your shitty family members?”
“I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.” He winks, his mouth curling up, and I believe him. “My parents are good people—hardworking. They had enough money to last them a lifetime. Maybe even longer…but they wouldn’t consider retiring until their bodies gave them no other choice.”
I smile, hearing the love he has for them in his voice. “Where are they now?”
“Living their best lives in Florida.” He chuckles. “I visit as often as I can.” He pauses, leveling a grin at me. “They’re gonna love you, you know.”
My cheeks warm under his stare. “I’m still married, and you’re talking about me meeting your parents,” I joke weakly.
“Just preparing you for our future.”
I like the way those words sound on his lips—our future. But I redirect us back to the safer subject. “They don’t sound like shitty family members.”
“No.” His brows draw low, his humor slipping away. “That would be my brother, Thatcher. He’s an entitled little shit, and his daughter isn’t much better.”
Something itches at my brain, a memory of dark hair and red lips flying through my mind. “You introduced me to her,” I say. “At Reynolds & Media. Angelica?”
“That’s right,” he admits, and something dark edges into his voice. “And there’s actually something I need to tell you.”
“That sounds ominous.” A weight settles in my stomach.
He reaches across his body with his free hand, tangling our fingers together and squeezing. I lean more heavily against him, his warmth soaking into my body. “One thing I’ll always give you is the truth, darling. Even when it absolutely sucks.”
I give him a wavering smile. “So, this is gonna suck, then?”
He doesn’t smile back, his thumb brushing along my skin. “Angelica claims she’s pregnant,” he says clearly, so there is no mistaking his words. “She’s saying it’s Christopher’s.”
My stomach roils, making me regret eating the greasy pizza. “Please tell me you’re kidding,” I plead weakly, but he only shakes his head slowly. “You saidclaims. Does that mean you think she’s lying?”
His expression darkens. “It means I wouldn’t put it past her. But this is a good thing, Lynley.”
The sound that escapes me is bitter. “How can this possibly be a good thing?”
“No judge in their right mind is going to give in to hisdemands with a possible pregnancy. It shows that the mediation he’s asking for is in bad faith, especially when his encounters”—he grimaces at the word—“with Angelica happened so recently. This, coupled with his hiding money, proves that he’s not trying to reconcile out of feelings for you or the kids.”
I tug my hand from his, rubbing my fist against my chest. “I just want this to be over.”
“I know. And I’ll make sure it happens.” He squeezes my shoulders, his woodsy cologne filling my lungs. “Trust me for a little longer, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
I pullthe covers up to Ginny’s chin, smoothing them down before sitting on the edge of her bed. She gives me a tired smile, her brown eyes heavy. “Momma.”
“Hey, baby,” I murmur, tracing a finger down the slope of her nose. “How’re you doing?”
“I like my new bed. Is it going to come home with me?”
It’s the first time she’s asked since we got here, too excited about her new bedroom to worry. I knew it was only a temporary reprieve, but now isn’t the time to get into the thick of it.
“No.” I stroke a hand over her forehead. “This bed stays in this house.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “But there’s no couch or TV here.”
I chuckle, amused by her priorities. “How about we go shopping, then? You can help me pick out some new furniture.”
