I take one more look to make sure Brady is still occupied by the television, then I step closer to the closed door. I rest my hand on the doorknob, expecting it to be locked like last time. But it isn’t locked. The knob twists under my hand, and I push the door open.
My mouth falls open as I see what’s inside the room. This is not an office. This is nothing even close to an office. Oh God.
And before I can say a word, I feel the shadow of Brady’s presence behind me.
Chapter 22
“Nora,” Brady says.
I can’t take my eyes off of it. I shake my head. “Tell me what this is.”
When he told me this was his office, I expected to see a desk. A computer. Maybe some file cabinets. But this alleged office has none of that.
Instead, it has a bed. A twin bed with a pink bedspread. And stuffed animals lined up along the wall. The pillow has a picture on it of a cartoon character I can’t identify. And pushed up against the other wall is a small pink dollhouse.
“Nora.” Brady is rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I…”
“Whatisthis?”
He looks over at the blindingly pink bedroom, then back at me, guilt etched into his features. “It’s my daughter’s room.”
“You have adaughter?”
“Yeah.” He shifts between his bare feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just… I don’t know. It didn’t feel right.”
I’m not entirely sure how to feel right now. He’s beenlyingto me, even though it was partially a lie of omission. Well, not entirely. He told me this is hisoffice, while it is clearly a small child’s bedroom.
“What’s her name?” I ask.
“Ruby.” He manages a ghost of a smile. “She’s five. She mostly lives with her mom, but she stays here every other weekend. Do you want to see a picture?”
I nod, although mostly to make sure this child actually exists. I have no interest in cooing over how cute his daughter is, especially after he lied to me about her existence.
He retrieves his phone from the bedroom and quickly brings up a photograph on the screen. It’s a photograph of a little girl, who has his nose and chin, with brown hair pulled into adorable little pigtails. She’s missing one of her front teeth, which is also adorable. He watches eagerly as I examine the photo.
“Cute,” I say flatly.
“Uh, thanks.”
I hold out the phone to him and he takes it back. “I think I’m going to head out,” I mutter.
“What?” His face falls. “Nora, come on. Don’t leave. Please?”
I shoot him a look. “Why did you lie to me about having a daughter?”
“I don’t know.” He drops his head. “Look, I’ve only been divorced for a year and it’s all kind of new to me… you know, this situation. I don’t want her to get to know anyone who’s going to just be around for a week or two. And honestly, the other night I thought it was just a one-night thing. I didn’t want to talk about Ruby.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “So basically, you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you had a daughter.”
“Well, if we’re going to be fair about it, you did leave about five seconds after we had sex.”
I snort. “And hey, look at that, I’m doing itagain.”
“Nora…”
But it’s too late. I push past him into the living room, where I retrieve my purse, jacket, and shoes. Brady follows me, his brow furrowed. He still has his shirt off, which is mildly distracting, but it doesn’t keep me from achieving my ultimate goal of getting the hell out of here.
“Nora, I’m really sorry,” he says. “I was going to tell you tonight. I swear.”
