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NINETEEN
tightrope
CHLOE
After Bryce leftfor the office, I grabbed my phone. Gene Windsor’s attorney had sent me another secure link.
Both Gene Windsor and his attorney could go die in a hole, for all I cared.
I ignored the link and instead went to my calendar. When the heckdidI get my last period? I kept zero record of it, of course. Elena had encouraged me to download some sort of app to track it, but I’d blithely ignored her. I’dalsoblithely ignored that I wasn’t on birth control, and Bryce and I had had sex about a zillion times.
I shivered, remembering our encounter from that morning. He’d made me come so hard, I’d seen stars. And then I’d started crying because I was so scared about his father, what his father would ask of me…
The fact that I might be pregnant just complicated everything further. What if Gene forced me to leave Bryce again? What the hell was I going to do then?
I put down my phone, climbed out of bed, and started pacing. I couldn’t let my mask slip in front of my husband again. If I betrayed Gene, he would hurt Bryce—not to mention my brother. I felt like I was walking a tightrope, and everyone’s existence depended on my performance. The thing was, I didn’t have very good balance. And I’d never had much of a game face.
I didn’t know what to do or where to turn.
There was no one I could trust.
It was too early to call Dale and check in on my brother, but I had to do something. I hustled to the shower and washed my hair. As I stood under the hot water, I ran my hands over my stomach. Was it possible that I was pregnant?
What would Bryce think?
I could picture him being excited, picking out baby names, and bragging to his brothers.Stop it, Chloe.
Every time I pictured a happy future with Bryce, I had to make myself stop. Gene Windsor wasn’t going to let that happen. If I let myself hope, it would be much worse when my dreams crashed and burned.
After getting dressed in a simple black dress that was still ridiculously fancy for everyday wear, I headed downstairs. Worried that my nausea would return, I bypassed the kitchen and went to the front door.
“Mrs. Windsor?” One of Bryce’s besuited men appeared out of nowhere. “Are we going out?”
“Um… I was just going to run to the drugstore. I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Can I go pick something up for you?” he asked.
“I’d like to go if that’s okay. I’m not sure what I need.”
“I’ll just go with you.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’ll follow behind and give you plenty of privacy, I promise.”
“Thanks,” I said weakly. But who the hell actually had privacy in a situation like this?
My thoughts swirled as I headed down the street, the early morning air fresh and clean. Beacon Hill was spectacular, with gorgeous, immaculately maintained townhouses lining the streets and gardens brimming with bursting late-summer flowers. I inhaled deeply, hoping the fresh air could cleanse my circling, anxious thoughts.
Gene wanted me to tell him everything about what the board was planning and how Bryce felt about it. My inclination was to act clueless, but was that safe? Gene already knew that the board was considering voting on Bryce’s position. If he was aware of that, what else did he know? The problem was that I sucked at lying. Not only that, I didn’t know where his information began and where it ended. What would happen if I mischaracterized or omitted something and Gene realized it? Would I be jeopardizing my brother’s already precarious position? What about Bryce? Was I helping him or hurting him by doing what Gene asked?
A drugstore was on the corner and I ducked into it, hoping to lose my security-guard friend. But he was right behind me. He kept close as I browsed the pain reliever section, pretending to compare brands of ibuprofen.
Finally, I had an idea. “Hey.” Now I was the one who magically appeared athisside. “I need to go to this aisle.” I pointed to the sign that saidFeminine Care. He gave me a thumbs-up and followed me to the aisle, but he didn’t venture down into the land of maxi pads and tampons, God bless him.
I went to work quickly. I grabbed several large boxes of feminine supplies and vitamins and quickly shoved three pregnancy tests between my wares. Then I hustled to the checkout counter, blocking my purchases with my body and the enormous designer handbag I’d grabbed from the closet. Once everything was paid for, I slid the tests into my tote and carried everything else out in the plastic shopping bag.
The guard didn’t say a word and didn’t offer to carry my bagful of feminine-care products.Score.Once we were back at the house, I unpacked everything and hid the extra tests in one of my new Stuart Weitzman over-the-knee suede boots.
I clasped the other test and headed for the bathroom, but the intercom intercepted me.
“Mrs. Windsor?” The guard sounded slightly panicked. ‘There’s someone here to see you.”
