She doesn't respond. My insides quiver harder. I grip the phone, reread her message, and make a new vow.
I've never been more motivated to take Hugh down. This is his fault. If he had been the father Blakely deserved, or a loyal business partner, none of this would have happened.
But there's another thing I'll relentlessly do.
I text my pet.
Me: It'll never be over between us. And you will return home. To me. Forever.
She still doesn't respond, but it doesn't matter.
I shower, sober up, and get dressed to go to the city. First, I'm taking Hugh's shares today. Then my wife's coming home. She's mine. We're unbreakable, and I will get her back.
I return to the bathroom, open the cabinet, and look for a fresh bottle of mouthwash. I reach for it, then freeze.
My pulse skyrockets.
How long has it been since her last shot?
I only gave her one.
I stare at the box of pregnancy tests and then pull it out. It's unopened.
I dig through the trash, looking for evidence of other tests, but there aren't any.
She can't be pregnant.
She didn't get her shot.
All the times Blakely's been exhausted or unable to eat recently fill my mind. Her beautiful glow I assumed was from the happiness we both felt. I lean against the counter, and shock rolls through me. I try to remember when she last got her period, but it's been months.
Why hasn't she said anything to me if she thinks she's pregnant?
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, vowing for the hundredth time since she left that somehow, I'll make this right. She'll see how much I love her. I promise myself out loud, "No matter what, I'll get my pet back."