Chapter 5
That evening Grant visited his parents.
Margaret gave him one opportunity to tell the truth.
“Who’s going to Italy with you?”
“Business people.”
“Names?”
Grant smiled faintly. “Since when do you audit my schedule?”
“Since tonight.”
Walter lowered his reading glasses.
Grant’s posture changed.
“What’s going on?”
“Cancel Italy,” Margaret said.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“It’s business.”
His phone vibrated on the table.
The screen illuminated.
Sloan Mercer.
Forty-eight hours until Amalfi. I already packed the red dress you love.
Margaret saw it.
So did Walter.
Grant grabbed the phone.
No one spoke.
Walter slowly removed his glasses.
Margaret stepped backward when Grant approached.
“Mom.”
“Don’t.”
“I can explain.”
“No.” Tears filled her eyes. “Your wife has already heard enough explanations.”
Grant’s face changed.
“Hannah told you?”
Margaret shook her head.
“No, Grant. Your phone did.”
Walter said nothing, which was worse.
Grant reached for his coat.
Margaret spoke before he reached the door.
“If you get on that plane, don’t ever tell yourself you didn’t know what it would cost.”
Grant stopped.
For one second, she thought he might understand.
Then he left.
Walter stared at the closed door.
“What kind of man did we raise?”
The following evening Grant came home early carrying white roses and food from the little Italian restaurant where he and Hannah had celebrated their first anniversary.
“I brought dinner.”
Hannah stared at the flowers.
“You hate white roses.”
“You used to love them.”
“That would have mattered.”
Grant flinched.
They ate at the kitchen island.
For twenty minutes, he became the man Hannah remembered.
He asked about the baby.
He apologized for missing the appointment.
When their son kicked, Grant crouched beside her and pressed his palm against Hannah’s stomach.
“Hey, little man.”
The baby kicked again.
Grant smiled.
A real smile.
Hannah’s eyes burned.
Eight years did not disappear because someone betrayed you.
That was the cruel part.
She remembered Grant sitting beside her mother’s hospital bed until the older woman died.
She remembered him sleeping beside Hannah after their miscarriage because she woke crying whenever he moved away.
She remembered the night this pregnancy test showed two lines and Grant had cried harder than she did.
That man was still kneeling in front of her.
So was the man taking Sloan to Italy.
“I know I hurt you,” Grant said.
Hannah waited.
“I want to fix this.”
“How?”
“We need time. When I get back from Italy, we’ll go somewhere. Just us.”
The small, dangerous hope inside her died.
“When you get back?”
Grant stood.
“There are business commitments attached to the trip.”
“You’re still going.”
“I can’t undo everything overnight.”
“You can cancel a plane ticket overnight.”
“It’s more complicated.”
Hannah looked at him.
“You keep calling your choices complicated because you don’t like what the simple answer says about you.”
His expression hardened.
“You want me to destroy business relationships?”
“I want my husband not to vacation with his mistress.”
Silence.
Grant looked away.
Hannah finally understood the equation.
He believed her pain could wait because Hannah always stayed.
Sloan’s disappointment mattered immediately because Sloan might leave.
Hannah removed her wedding ring.
Grant watched her place it into a ceramic bowl.
“Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
Hannah met his eyes.
“I think that sentence belongs to you.”
The next morning Grant surprised her by attending the specialist appointment.
He sat beside her during the ultrasound.
Their son’s heartbeat filled the room.
Grant’s eyes became wet.
For several minutes, they were not a feared boss and his betrayed wife.
They were simply two parents watching their baby move.
Outside, Grant kissed Hannah’s forehead.
“I don’t want to lose this.”
She desperately wanted to believe him.
His phone rang.
Sloan.
Grant declined it.
Hope returned.
Thirty seconds later, it rang again.
He stepped away.
“I need to take this.”
Hannah heard only fragments.
“Not here, Sloan.”
Then—
May you like
“I’ll see you tonight.”
He did not come home for dinner.
