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“Find anything out?” I ask.
“I didn’t ask her. Couldn’t put her in that position. But yeah, I learned something. I think.”
“Well?”
“Your girl is pregnant.”
Three jaws hit the floor. Mine, Blake’s, and Rob’s.
“Pregnant?”
“Yes. Pam, that’s the nurse taking care of her, asked Jamie for the number of an obstetrician for the girl who came in earlier. She was about to give a name and glanced over at you. Jamie stopped her from giving it. A code thing, I guess. You know how it is.”
“It has to be your kid,” Blake states.
“Has to be.”
“You should probably find out for sure.”
The nurse goes in to see Amber and comes back out. Walks the other way, down the hall.
“Hey, Ryder, can you distract Jamie? I’m going to talk to Amber.”
“Sure thing.” He saunters to the side of the reception desk and waves Jamie to him. She happily responds.
“I’m going,” I say to my brothers and get up and trek. Reach Amber’s location unobstructed. Scan back and forth like I’m starring in a low-budget spy film. Slide the curtain aside and step through. Amber is sitting on the edge of a bed, studying a piece of paper.
“How are you feeling?”
She looks up, startled. Holds the paper tightly and brings it between her legs. “What are you doing in here? You have to leave.”
“I want to know how you are. I’m worried.”
A gush of air pushes from her mouth, and she mumbles, “I bet you are.”
Since the moment we met, I’ve never once raised my voice around Amber, not even close. Until now. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means. Now get out of here. You make me sick.”
Wow. Both barrels. Through my observations in life, the only reason for someone to say something like that is if they have committed a terrible sin. And I haven’t committed one where Amber is concerned. Thus: “You’ve seen Farrah’s posts on social media, haven’t you?”
“Didn’t have to use social media to learn things. Farrah’s been keeping me updated via text, through photos.”
I feel my face scrunch.
She points at a nearby table where her phone sits. “Hand me that, and I’ll show you.”
I grab the phone and hand it to her.
Her fingers are a blur, and she gets to where she wants to go in a hurry. Holds the phone up near my face, and I lean backward.
I snatch it from her. “No, no, no,” I chant.
“Yes, yes, yes. That’s a picture of Farrah, naked in our bed. Then there’s the one of her standing next to it in some sort of exotic outfit. And let’s not forget the one of you two out at some function, which was taken, I’m assuming, when you were supposed to be out of town on business.” She uses air quotes when she saysout of town on business.
“None of that… Okay, please listen. None of that’s true.”
“That’s not our bed?”
