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My stomach dips, and I blink at her.
“Did you let him tell you his side of the story?” Her gaze is hard and unrelenting.
I shake my head.
“No, you didn’t. You made your decision based on a sensationalized one-sided account of potential allegations.”
“But I know the woman. I’ve met her.” My throat gets hot and I swallow hard. “He introduced us.”
“So this woman exists. Did you ask him if he’s still sleeping with her?”
I shake my head, staring out the window at the view of the silvery train next to us.
“I’m not saying what he did was right. I would never presume to question the ethics of another person. Believe me, I know. But everyone has a past. Perhaps this isn’t what you would have preferred. But his past brought him to you. Didn’t it?”
I don’t answer. I keep looking out the window at the side of the dirty train next to us.
“And that past, the decisions he made in his past, they lead to that beautiful, healthy baby that’s currently landed us on this train. A train with excellent cell service, I might add.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. She turns to the door.
“I’m going to go suss out the diner car. See if I can’t scrounge us up some ginger beer.” She opens the door, leaving me in the room alone.
I look out the window again, and just as I’m about to follow her, the train shifts, moving forward. Perhaps maneuvering through a moving train with my big belly isn’t the best idea.
I log onto the Wi-Fi and send a quick text to Bee, telling her we need to talk. Then I text Ainsley, letting her know I’ll be arriving in the morning. We’re out of the station, moving through downtown LA and Midge hasn’t returned yet. Who knows when she’ll be back. She tends to make friends wherever she goes. I scroll through my social media feeds, scanning through photos of people finishing their first marathons and attending fall weddings.
I’m about to set my phone down when I see an article someone shared.
Axe Falls at Portland: Flux Out as Assistant Coach
I gasp and then scan the article. Freddy officially resigned his position yesterday after being accused of having conversations with another coach from a school in Minnesota. Not just that, but his phone records included records of calls made and received from escort services in Las Vegas and Portland. When would he have been in Las Vegas? They don’t usually recruit there. Derek only made the trip because I needed to be there. Something’s not adding up.
But the final nail in the coffin was the line hidden at the end of the article about how he’d inadvertently uploaded explicit images onto the university server and they were leaked to tabloid media. Except that’s not true. Because I know what images they’re talking about, and there’s no way Derek would have shared them with Freddy.
And yet, I can’t see Derek blaming any of this on Freddy. Even if there are parts of him I obviously knew nothing about. He wouldn’t do that. Because even if Derek lied to me and hurt me more than any man has ever hurt me, deep down, I know he’s a good man.
Which is why I can’t seem to stop myself from dialing the last number I reached Derek at.
“Hello? Megan?” His voice sounds hopeful, surprised.
“Yeah.”
“Hey,” he says. There’s a lot of noise in the background. The pounding of hammers and something mechanical—an electric saw?
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Hang on a sec,” he says. The noise in the background gets a little softer, and then I hear the close of a door, and it’s quieter. “Sorry about that.”
“Where are you?”
“It’s a long story,” he says. Which isn’t an answer. He takes a deep, shaky breath. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Is the baby okay?”
My stomach dips. That’s how it always is with him. He asks about me first, then the baby, then he moves on to the rest of the world.
