All those things I thought were mine alone. One of a kind.
I was a light sleeper, so he warmed milk for me every night before bed. He kept that up for seven years. He had a recipe folder saved on his phone, filled with nothing but my favorites: when to add the sugar to the sweet-and-sour ribs, how many minutes to steam the crab. He even collected our movie ticket stubs like a lovesick teenager.
How could a man like that not love me?
But he'd done every single one of those things for someone else, too.
He brought Christina meals. He memorized her class schedule just so he could see her between lectures. He took her shopping. He gave her the same gifts he gave me, all to keep her happy.
I blinked hard and swallowed the sting behind my eyes.
Three days later, Piers came home.
Kisses landed on my face one after another, trailing downward.
"Baby, I missed you so much."
His lips pressed against the hollow of my neck. "You've lost weight. Have you been skipping meals because you missed me?"
No one at his company would have believed this was the same man who never cracked a smile in the boardroom.
"I brought you something."
He produced a bottle of wine like a kid showing off a prize. "Your favorite label. I made a special trip to pick it up."
"How about we open it tonight?"
I stared at the bottle.
Every time he traveled for business, he came back with some thoughtful little gift, always exactly what I'd been wanting. I once asked him how he always knew. He told me he'd overheard me mention a bracelet while I was on the phone with a friend, and he'd kept it tucked away in his memory ever since.
But after seeing all those matching "surprises" at Christina's apartment, the wine just made my stomach turn.
Right this moment, was an identical bottle sitting on her counter, too?
His phone rang.
Piers glanced at the screen and silenced it.
It rang again. He silenced it again.
When it rang a third time, I said nothing. I peeled his hand off me and walked to the dining table.
Piers answered the call and stepped onto the balcony. A minute at most. Then he came back and offered a one-line explanation.
"Work stuff. An intern keeps messing things up."
I nodded. "Sit down and eat first."
I was ready to lay my cards on the table. After all, a decision had to be made about the baby sooner or later.
But just as I opened my mouth, his phone buzzed again.
A text this time.
He glanced down, and the color drained from his face. He shot out of his chair like he'd been launched from it.
"What's wrong?"
His voice came out clipped, urgent. "Something came up at the office. I need to head out."
Before he'd even finished the sentence, he was already pulling on his coat, fumbling for his car keys.
I watched his retreating back and spoke up. "Let Josie Parrish drive you. It's late, and you shouldn't be behind the wheel."
Piers nodded without protest.
The door clicked shut. I sat alone at the dining table and let a thin smile cross my lips.
Josie was my eyes and ears.
I wanted to know exactly what Christina was up to, dragging him out in the middle of the night like the place was on fire.
"Kate, that girl is pregnant."
Josie's voice came through the phone, dead serious. "That's why Mr. Harding rushed over. They met at the hospital last night. Now they're having dinner at a private restaurant."
"Are you okay?"
I loosened my fingers. They'd been digging into my palms hard enough to leave marks. I forced out a breath that I hoped sounded casual.
"Which restaurant?"
By the time I arrived, they were still inside a private dining room.
The door was slightly ajar, and Christina's voice drifted out.
"Mr. Harding, do you really love your wife that much?"
"She hasn't gotten pregnant after all this time. Have you... ever thought about getting a divorce?"
