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“You better.”

“She still at your place?”

“Don’t know. She said this morning she was going to call Jenna and Dan, talk to them about getting her stuff out of your place and back into her studio.”

“She’s not fucking moving out.” No way in hell. Last night, spending the first night alone without her in weeks was bad enough. No way in hell I’m doing it permanently. “Where do you live? She and I need to talk.”

Chapter 28

Cara

I call Luca, explained I won’t be in and why in an abbreviated version, and he’s not bothered at all by my taking the day off. It’s probably the sniffling and crying over the phone as soon as I hear his voice that makes him even more compassionate than usual.

I do not, however, call Jenna. At least a half dozen times I find myself staring at my phone, her number pulled up on my screen, but I’m unable to press the send button.

I don’t want to deal with anything, and I managed to pack enough last night, as haphazardly as it was, to last me through the weekend at least. There’s no point in waiting to get my stuff out of Braxton’s, but there’s also not an urgent need. We’ll have things to talk about eventually, and there’s still a baby we’ll need to figure out a way to raise together. I would never keep that from him, but I can’t imagine forgiving him anytime soon either.

Plus, it’s not like he’s called to apologize or talk either.

Every time I blink, his words and his scowls flash through my mind so much that by the time Graham returns home, I’m still curled in a ball on his couch, HGTV binge-watching marathon on for background noise only.

“So today was productive, I take it.”

His gaze scans me, and he reaches over and flicks off the television.

“How was your studying?”

Graham’s eyes have dark circles under them. His tousled hair from this morning is even messier, strands flipping every which way, which tells me exactly how stressed and worried he is. He’s probably been tugging on it all day.

“Go shower,” he says, ignoring my question and tossing the remote onto a chair so it’s out of my reach. “Seriously, you need to get cleaned up.”

“I don’t want to.” I want to mope and whine and revel in my broken heart.

“You’ll feel better. Did you call Jenna?”

Nothing will help me feel better. I shake my head and find myself unable to look Graham in the eyes. Instead, I stare off at the now blank television screen. “No. I don’t want to bother her.”

“She’s your best friend.”

“And married to Braxton’s best friend. I don’t know if I want to tell her anything until I figure out what I’m doing next.”

“You know your problem?”

“Yes, I know about fifty of them.”

The cushion next to me depresses from Graham’s weight and he pulls me into his arms. My hand falls to my stomach and I collapse into his hold.

“No. You only have one, and it’s that you’ve never liked taking help from anyone. You always want to do it alone, but right now, there’s more than just you to think of.” My hand tightens on my stomach on instinct. “And you have to talk to Braxton.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

My gaze falls to my hand, my swollen abdomen beneath it. It looks like I have a melon in my stomach, even if it is a small one, but there’s absolutely no hiding my pregnancy anymore from anyone. “It hurt, Graham. So much. I keep hearing everything he said, how he could think I’d cheat on him. Or lie to him.”

All those stupid painful emotions I’ve done a sucky job of pushing away all day return and I shove my head into Graham’s neck, hating that I’m such a wreck and that I trusted Braxton and I fell in love with him, even if I told him I wasn’t already there to save face.

God, he’s destroyed me and all over some stupid assumption he didn’t evenaskabout.