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I let out a humorless laugh. “You think it’s that easy?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s not.” I fold my arms over my chest, meeting his stare. “If I cancel now, he’ll know something’s wrong.”
Cole exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to keep his patience in check. “Annie, I get that you don’t want to raise suspicion, but you’re pregnant and just traveled a long distance.”
I flinch.
Not because I don’t know that. Not because I haven’t thought about it every second since I took those damn tests. But because hearing him say it out loud like that—so direct, so certain—within earshot of people in this house—makes my stomach twist.
“I know that,” I say quietly.
His expression softens for a brief moment.
“Then maybe—just maybe—you should be taking it easy.”
I huff out a breath, rubbing a hand over my forehead. “I will. After tonight. It’s just dinner.”
Cole shakes his head, his gaze still locked on mine. “I don’t like this.”
I let out a dry laugh. “I didn’t think you would.”
He exhales again, dragging a hand down his face. “Annie—”
“Cole, I’ve known him most of my life. He’ll know something’s wrong,” I say, my voicesofter now. “I’m not ready to tell anyone yet. Even my best friend. I just need to get through one dinner without setting off any alarm bells That’s all.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he studies me for a long moment, like he’s trying to decide if pushing this any further is worth it.
Finally, he lets out a slow breath. “Fine.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived. Because then he adds, “But you need to get some rest after this.”
I nod. “I will.”
Cole doesn’t look convinced, but he also doesn’t argue.
I glance toward the staircase, suddenly feeling the weight of the long day pressing down on me. “He’s picking me up, so I’m gonna go up and shower before he gets here.”
Cole watches me for another second, then finally gives a small nod. “Okay.”
I don’t wait for him to say anything else. I just turn on my heel, and head upstairs.
Because if I stay here any longer, I might start second-guessing everything.
***
I take one last look at myself in the mirror, pressing my hands against the cool marble of the bathroom counter. Myreflection stares back at me—calm, composed, put together. At least, on the surface.
Inside, I feel like a mess.
My damp hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, and I’ve thrown on a simple pair of jeans and a blouse—casual but not too casual. Like I haven’t spent the past day having my entire world turned upside down. Like I haven’t been carrying the weight of a secret I’m still struggling to process.
I take a deep breath.
It’s just dinner.
I can do this.