I text Court and Yuna to cancel the dinner, telling them I’m sorry. The drive is silent. The urge to say something is strong. However, I know from experience that this is the time to shut my mouth and come up with a plan. The wrong words can dig an even deeper hole. But what’s the right thing to say? This is uncharted territory, and all my negotiation and management skills are useless.
When we’re home, Evie goes straight to the bedroom. I follow, but then stop when she turns to me. “I need to rest. I’m tired.”
I search her face and note the tightness around her mouth, the sadness in her eyes. “Evie… I’m sorry,” I say, because it’s the only thing I can say.
She raises her eyes to me for a moment, but nothing changes in their depths. “Okay.” She looks away and walks inside.
My hands flex and unflex, but ultimately, I can’t stop her. Or even reach out and hold her hand. This feels like a richly deserved punishment, and maybe forcing things would only make it worse. I remind myself Evie’s also pregnant, and she needs the time to process and regroup.
Instead, I go to my home office and call Pattington.
“Yes, Nate?” he says, his voice inflectionless.
“You remember that Bradley Brown I wanted you to look into?”
“Yes.”
Anger surges. “Make sure he can’t even get on a highway without getting pulled over.”
Pattington grunts. “It’s a serious step to take.”
“Yeah, well. I warned him.” The motherfucker knew what I wanted. He might’ve followed the letter, but not the intent. So fuck him.
“Got it,” he says, and hangs up.
I stare at the phone. The satisfaction I hoped for doesn’t come. No matter how much I punish Bradley, the damage has been done. And I know I need to do something to fix what’s broken.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Evie
Sinking slowly onto the edge of the mattress, I cover my face in my hands. Nate didn’t follow me into the bedroom, for which I’m grateful. I need time alone.
My father is a fraud. Always was. Although Nate didn’t say it, it’s clear Mom’s been lying to me all this time. And underneath the hurt, an ugly, angry recrimination is simmering.
Why?
There’s a small part of me that says I can’t believe everything Dad said. It also says the text could’ve been a setup. How could someone who’s driven to squeeze money out of me be stupid and careless enough to show his hand so soon?
But does it matter? It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been lied to, especially by the two people who I’ve had such faith in…
I think back on my time with Nate. He told me he trusted me. But Dad’s right. You don’t lie to people you trust.
I’m an idiot. I started to open up to Nate because I thought we could build a beautiful life together. But that isn’t going to happen, is it? How am I going to be certain of him now? It goes beyond trust. His treatment of me proves he doesn’t consider me his equal, just someone he has to shield with lies and omissions. What happens when he gets tired of that? Or he decides he needs somebody strong, not some weak, pathetic thing he has to protect all the time?
The thing is, I will never be as powerful and influential as Nate. So where does that leave me? And our child? I place a hand over my belly and try to think…
I can’t come up with a single answer.
Finally, I pull out my phone and call Mom. I need to talk to her, hear her voice. She owes me an explanation.
“Hello, Evie,” Mom says after a few rings. She sounds warm and affectionate, just like always.
But I’m no longer overcome with love for her and all that she’s done. The knowledge that she weaved a stupid illusion about Dad all my life bubbles up like poisonous gas. “You lied to me about Dad.”
A moment of silence. “Did Nate tell you?”
I blink at the question, ugly emotions churning in my gut, my sense of betrayal growing a hundred-fold. “You told Nate something you never told me?”