I was folding a small onesie that said, *"I kick like my mom," when I got the call. The area code made my stomach turn, even though I didn't recognize the number.
Still, I responded.
"Hello?"
A pause. Then a voice, polished, slick, and too self-assured.
"Isn't it grace?"
"Yes…" I spoke cautiously.
"This is Veronica. Veronica Langford.
I went cold.
The name was a slap in the face.
The Veronica Langford, who was once engaged to Ethan. The tabloids originally predicted that the woman would end up as Mrs. Blackwood. Heiress. Socialite. Teeth sharper than diamonds, perfectly constructed.
She said casually, as like we were old brunch friends, "I saw the photo." It's the park one. Ethan and you looked... comfortable.
I didn't respond. She was dialing in a performance, and I wasn't going to entertain it.
Still, she continued. "Hey, I'm taking a plane to the city. For a few days only. Perhaps we could get back in touch, I thought. I believe it's only right that we speak since Ethan and I never truly found closure. as grownups.
It nearly made me giggle. Closure? after she made fun of him in public? after leaving him with an unhealed wound and a PR nightmare?
I answered calmly, "That seems more like a conversation between you and Ethan." "It's not a me-and-you situation."
She purred, her voice falling into malice tinged with sweets. "Oh, sweetie." "Don't you genuinely believe that you know him?"
I refrained from speaking. Hard.
Even if you are wearing the ring now, Grace, there are aspects of Ethan that you simply cannot comprehend. I simply felt it was right to alert you. The man you're in love with? His layers are not all attractive.
She abruptly ended the call.
No farewell.
Just quiet, heavy, thick, reverberating.
The folded onesie in my lap caught my attention. It was supple. Innocent. Full of promise.
And it felt like a lifeline I wasn't even aware I needed at the moment.
I sat in the nursery later that night, one hand on my expanding belly. Ethan had a late shift. Again.
However, his absence felt different this time. He wasn't merely "busy." They were watching him.
by the past.
By a woman who, at one point, held his future in her hands—and threw it away as if it were unimportant.
And perhaps the most terrifying aspect of all?
There was a part of me that desired the truth.
Everything.
even if it caused me pain.