support me. If I wanted to keep the baby, he’d support me. All on one condition. I was never to tell you about Rick and me, or the baby.”
The woman was crying now, her body shaking, her shoulders hunched forward. “My mom had kicked me out of the house at that point. I felt awful over what I’d done, and I…I told Ethan the only way I’d play along was if he gave me ten thousand dollars so I could start over somewhere. Between Ethan and your mother, they got it to me, and a couple of days later, I relocated and went about my life.”
Stunned, Emily could only stare at Samantha as she slid off her stool.
“I wanted you to know because I’m here to stay. I wanted you to know because I’m sorry. And I’m sad, and I want your forgiveness, but I don’t expect it. When I found out you were pregnant with Ethan’s baby, I felt happy for you, and that’s something I never thought I’d feel.”
“How did you know?” she asked woodenly.
“I saw your mom in Arizona.”
Emily thought of the phone calls, of the text messages and voicemails. Her mother knew this was heading Emily’s way. Her mother knew, and Ethan probably knew too.
I’m an idiot. The thought brought tears to her eyes. She swiped at them angrily.
“He’s always loved you, you know.”
Emily watched Samantha as she bundled up her daughter and headed for the door.
Just not enough to trust with the truth.
Emily wasn’t sure how long she sat at the kitchen island, staring into space and seeing nothing. A minute? An hour? A day?
But when the door opened, she turned to face Ethan, and when she spoke, she was quiet. Could hardly get the words out because her tongue felt as fuzzy as her head. “I need some time.”
“Emily.” Ethan took a step toward her, and she shook her head.
“Okay,” he replied roughly. “You know where I’ll be.”
Chapter Twenty
Ethan didn’t sleep.
He spent the night in his shop, staring at the bottle of tequila he’d pulled out of the cupboard weeks ago but never opened. It was a long, miserable night, full of memory and anger and sadness and finally, acceptance.
He was pretty sure he’d screwed things up with Emily. That the past had come back to bite him in the ass, and he had no idea how to fix it. She felt betrayed. And she had been.
Not for the first time, he stared up at the ceiling and railed against Rick. Told him he’d always been a self-centered, egotistical, bastard. The guy always wanted to be first. To have the best. To be the best.
The problem with that kind of pressure? It tears at a person, strips them bare until they’ll do whatever it takes to build themselves back up. To make them feel good about themselves.
How many times had Rick told Ethan that he was done cheating? That Emily was the best thing he’d ever had and he couldn’t chance losing her? Then a month later, he’d be messing around with someone new.
Too many times, Ethan thought tiredly. And I did nothing until it was too late.
The pattern started before he’d even met Emily. For as long as Ethan could remember, the man couldn’t be faithful. The twisted part was that he’d loved Emily.
The sun was up by the time he trudged through the snow and headed into his quiet home. He checked his phone, but there were no messages from Emily. He tossed it onto the counter and put on a pot of coffee. He let it drip and stripped off his clothes, then stepped into the shower. He stayed under that hot spray until the water ran cold, and then stayed a couple more minutes because the bone-numbing water woke him up.
He’d just wrapped a towel around his waist when the smell of bacon hit his nostrils. What the…
Ethan walked out of his bedroom and down the hall and spotted Emily in his small kitchen. Her back was to him, and she was singing some song he vaguely recognized. He made a weird noise, some half grunt, half growl kind of thing, and she slowly turned to face him.
For the longest time, the two of them stared at each other without speaking, and then she grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured a cup of coffee. Black with two sugars, the way he liked. She set it down on the counter and nodded.
She wore a pair of old faded jeans,