Paul? She cheated on him?
On Mr. Thorne?
Him?
My brows pulled together, heat creeping up my neck. She cheated on a man like Nathan? What the hell was wrong with her?
That fucking bitch.
Nathan’s shoulders shifted, subtle but stiff. “We’ve moved past it,” he said, but it sounded like he was reciting lines.
She sighed, softer now. “Then why do I still feel like you’re holding back? Like you’ve been… halfway here ever since?”
“I’m here,” he said.
“No, you’re not. Not really.” Her voice lowered, coaxing. “We could fix this. We could start fresh. We could have a baby.”
The word landed hard.
Baby?
My pulse tripped, then spiked.
Nathan didn’t answer right away, and that silence said more than anything.
“You don’t want to?” she asked, her eyebrows pinching.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what? You’re thirty-three, I’m thirty-five. We don’t have all the time in the world.”
I stood frozen in the steam, my ears straining for every syllable. My mind was already spinning, her, pregnant. Nathan’s hands on her. Him kissing her stomach. Their kid calling him Dad.
My jaw tightened. I didn’t like that picture.
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You know what I think? I think you’re still punishing me. That’s what this is. You haven’t forgiven me. You just… tolerate me.”
Nathan exhaled slowly. “Lilly—”
“You can’t even talk about it without looking like you’d rather be anywhere else. You haven’t touched me the same way since.”
Her voice dripped with something between guilt and accusation, and I couldn’t tell which irritated me more.
My head was loud now, too loud. She had cheated on him and still thought she was in the position to demand a baby? To fix their marriage with a kid like it was a damn glue stick?
The thought of them with a child was like someone pouring bleach into my brain. It burned. It stuck.
Nathan finally said something too low for me to catch, and she just sighed, softer this time. “Think about it.”
He kissed her goodnight, and I heard her steps retreat upstairs.
Nathan followed her.
Why?
I was still standing there, gripping the curtains like they were the only thing keeping me upright, and all I could think about was that word. Baby. And how much I hated the idea, when I saw my phone, in the corner of the bathroom, near Mr. Thorne’s jacket.
He found it?
