Page 68 of Six Month Wife

“Dr. Matthews?” he asks. His voice is clipped and formal.

“That’s me,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.

He extends a hand. “Paul Kendrick. I’m one of Mr. Blankenship’s associates for the estate. I trust he let you know I'd be coming.”

Adair and I exchange a quick “oh, shit,” glance. So much for jumping to conclusions.

“Right, yes,” I rush to say, still eyeing him suspiciously. "He said your plane would arrive later. I apologize, I didn't realize you'd be here this early."

Paul clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. I didn’t mean to alarm you.I know we’re officially meeting tomorrow, but I happened to be able to catch an earlier flight. When I saw the event here at the hospital, I thought I’d take a look around before introducing myself.”

“Well, we’re happy to show you around, if you'd like,” I say smoothly.

Paul shakes his head quickly. “That won’t be necessary. I assure you, I’m not here today to ruin your time. I wasn’t trying to be intrusive. Just wanted to introduce myself.”

I force a smile, though my mind is racing. How much has he seen? Have we been convincing enough?

“Well,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, “it’s nice to meet you, Paul. Hope you were able to enjoy the event. You can still catch the blood drive before they leave.”

He offers a polite, neutral smile. “My driver’s waiting, but thank you.”

There’s a beat of silence, too long to be casual.

Then he nods. “Dr. Matthews. Ms. Carpenter, I’ll be in touch.”

Without another word, he turns and walks off, disappearing into a sleek black sedan parked near the edge of the lot.

We watch the car pull away in silence.

“What the hell was that?” Adair finally mutters.

Heat blooms in my chest as I try to stay cool. “He wasn’t supposed to fly in until tonight. I figured he'd touch base at some point, but we aren't officially meeting until tomorrow. At least, that's what he told me when he confirmed.”

“Was he watching us?” she asks, eyes still fixed on the now-empty space where the car had been.

“Looks like it,” I say with a tight jaw. “I think he was.”

She turns to face me, her voice low. “And if I hadn’tlooked up, if I hadn’t made eye contact, would he have said anything at all?”

I shake my head. “Probably not.”

Her shoulders tense again. “So now we’re being surveilled?”

“Observed,” I correct. “But yeah. I have a hunch that’s exactly what’s happening.”

She’s quiet for a beat, then lets out a shaky breath. “You think we pulled it off?”

I wish I could tell her yes, that we nailed it. But all I can say is, “We’ll know soon enough.”

19

Adair

The spin classat the yacht club is brutal. The instructor, a wiry woman in her late fifties named Carla, shouts encouragement over a blaring remix of ’80s rock songs.

The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the neon-colored LEDs on the front of the bikes. My legs burn, and sweat drips down my back, but I grit my teeth and push through.

“Last hill, ladies!” Carla yells. “Crank up that resistance and give me everything you’ve got!”