Chapter 2

"Fine. I'm listening. Go ahead."

My voice was calmer than I'd expected.

Owen stood on the other side of the dining table. The white roses lay between us, droplets of water still clinging to their petals.

"I never touched her," he said. "The entire procedure was done at the clinic. I only provided the sample."

"You only provided the sample?"

He rubbed the space between his brows as if he were dealing with an argument that could have been avoided.

"After Caleb died, Willa had no family left. And she'd always wanted a child of her own so she wouldn't be alone."

"Before Caleb died, he asked me to take care of her. I couldn't stand by and watch her lose the last thing she wanted."

I placed my phone beside my thigh and started recording.

"When did this begin?"

"Five months ago."

"Who brought it up first?"

"She asked if I'd be willing to help."

"How long did you think about it before you agreed?"

Owen looked away. "A few days."

So he hadn't been pressured into it. He hadn't made one terrible decision in a moment of grief.

He'd had days to think it over, yet he hadn't spared a single minute to ask his wife.

My stomach twisted tighter and tighter. I braced a hand against the edge of the table and waited for the nausea to pass.

"How many times did you go to the clinic?"

"Does that matter?"

"Answer me."

He was silent for a moment. "The initial consultation, the physical, and the sample collection. She was too nervous on the day of the embryo transfer, so I went then too."

"And the ultrasounds?"

Owen's jaw tightened.

The answer was already written all over his face.

"How many?"

"Three," he said quietly. "The doctor said the first twelve weeks were unstable. I couldn't let her face that alone."

My nails scraped against the edge of the table.

Two years ago, when our second round of IVF failed, he had been out of state for a conference.

I'd sat alone in the clinic parking lot, staring at the test results the nurse had sent me. I hadn't driven home until after dark.

That day, Owen had held me and apologized. He'd promised that if there was ever a next time, he would be there with me.

There really had been a next time.

I just wasn't the woman lying on the examination table.

"If I hadn't found out today, when were you planning to tell me?"

"After the pregnancy was stable."

"So today?"

"I was going to tell you after our anniversary dinner." He took a step toward me. "Mara, I know how awful this sounds, but I never meant to hurt you."

I instinctively backed away, and my lower back struck the counter.

Pain shot up my spine, but I didn't make a sound.

"You bred a baby with another woman, then planned to take me out to celebrate our marriage?"

"Don't say it like that." Pain flashed across Owen's face. "I didn't 'breed a baby' with her. It was a medical procedure."

"Then why hide it from me?"

His breath caught.

"Because I knew it would bring everything back." His voice softened, the same way it always had when he tried to comfort me. "I didn't want you to relive all that disappointment. I thought it would be easier for you to accept once the baby was safe."

"Accept what? That you're the father of her child?"

"Her biological father."

"Only biologically?"

Owen didn't answer.

His phone vibrated again.

This time, he pulled it out, glanced at the screen, then placed it facedown on the table.

I had already seen the message preview.

The pain in my lower abdomen is back. Can you come over?

Owen reached for his car keys, then stopped under my stare.

"She's twelve weeks pregnant and lives alone," he explained. "I'm only going to make sure she's okay. We can talk when I get back."

"If you walk out now, there will be nothing left for us to talk about."

His fingers clenched tightly around the keys.

A few seconds later, he set them back on the table.

Before I could release the hand braced against the table, the doorbell suddenly rang.

Owen looked toward the door, his expression visibly stiffening.

The person outside rang again.

"It's me," Willa called through the door. "Owen, you left in such a hurry this afternoon that you forgot your coat at my place."

I looked at the charcoal-gray suit he was wearing.

Only moments ago, he'd told me he had spent the entire day at the office.

A paper bag rustled softly outside the door.

Willa spoke again, her voice so gentle it was almost considerate.

"And I brought your medicine. Your stomach was bothering you last night, so don't forget to take it tonight."