Page 66 of Take Your Breath Away

“It’s about all of us. You, me, him, and this baby that’s suddenly complicated everything.”

“It’s not a complication,” I said. “It’s wonderful news.”

“You didn’t look like you thought it was wonderful when I first told you.”

“I was surprised. But I’m not unhappy about it.”

Jayne did not look convinced.

I came around to her side of the bed, perched myself on the edge. I put my hand to her cheek and said, “I love you.”

Jayne said nothing for a few seconds. Then, “What if you have to make a choice? What if you love both of us?”

“Jayne, it’s not … it’s never going to come to that.”

“How can you know?”

I couldn’t come up with a reply.

Jayne said, “There’s no way this ends well, is there? I mean, if it’s Brie, then our life’s in total chaos. If it isn’t her, this detective never stops trying to prove you killed her. Either way, I could end up losing you.”

“No,” I said.

She turned her head away.

“We just have to see what happens,” I said.

“That’s your plan?”

“I don’t know what else to say. We can’t worry about things we’re powerless to change. Our priorities, as of this moment, are to make sure you and this baby you’re carrying are okay. And that we can make things work here for Tyler.”

I leaned in and hugged her. She put her arms around me but didn’t squeeze.

“Maybe I should … maybe this is the wrong time to bring a child …”

“No,” I said. “Don’t think that way.”

I stood, gave her the most comforting smile I could muster, and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I stood there, looking into the mirror, I had to concede that maybe Jayne was right.

There’s no way this ends well.

The last thing I did before I turned off the light was mute my phone and plug it into the charging cord I left sitting on the bedside table. A second after I hit the light, my phone lit up silently with an incoming call.

On the screen, the word NORMAN.

I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to talk to less than Isabel’s husband. So I flipped the phone over and got under the covers.

Twenty-Five

Norman was sitting in one of the two family room recliners, in darkness except for a dull glow from the phone he held in his palm, when Isabel tracked him down.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” she asked, flicking on a light.

“Nothing,” he said, tucking the phone under his thigh. He was in his pajamas, wrapped in a housecoat, his legs propped up, his upper body tilted back.

“I woke up, you weren’t in the bed. I thought maybe you were sick. Are you sick?”

“I’m fine,” he said.