Page 3 of Blue Line Love

“Aww, bummer. Things were just getting good!” Marcus complains. He and Quinn had been talking for most of the party and she looks bummed, too.

“Well, she is still just a little tyke, even after a year.” Reese’s grandmother stands up, coming over to stroke Violet on the head. We haven’t spoken much, even after the scandal of Reese and me getting together blew over. There’s a distance that I can’t quite span with her. Even now, her eyes look hard like marbles in their sockets when she glances at me.

One by one, everyone gathers their things and slowly filters out through the door that I wish had been bricked up already. There are promises of having another shindig, making sure that we take plenty of pictures with Violet playing with her new toys, et cetera, et cetera, blah blah blah. I barely hear any of it.

“You better let her know every day that it was Aunty Q that got her that super cool princess playhouse!” Quinn yells at me over her shoulder as she leaves, Marcus trailing closely behind.

My mom is the last one. She lingers. “Everything alright, Olivia?”

Mama is always so good at clocking when there’s something going on with me. It’s equal parts reassuring and terrifying. How am I supposed to explain this to her? I know I’ll have to sooner or later. Something like a secret wife doesn’t exactly blow over. But I choose “later.”

I laugh, brushing off the concern. “Yeah. We’re both just a little tuckered out.”

“Hm. Alright.” She looks around. “Well, tell Reese that I enjoyed coming over. Thank him for inviting me.”

“I’ll tell him. Thanks, Ma. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

When everyone is gone, I let out a breath of relief. For a moment, the silence that follows is a balm on my frayed nerves.

Then I start to hear the faint sounds of Holly and Reese arguing in his office.

“… don’t even remember who you are!”

“You not remembering me doesn’t mean that what happened didn’t happen.”

“This is just deepfake shit. None of these pictures are?—”

“You really think I’d waste my time Photoshopping lies over some hotshot hockey player who can’t stay out of the tabloids for more than two seconds? You’re not the catch you think you are.”

Their argument continues on, but I have neither the heart nor the desire to continue to listen in. I bring Violet up to her room, putting her in her playpen with some of her new toys. Then I turn her baby music on at a soft volume.

“Big surprises today, Vi. Big, big surprises.”

I stay in Violet’s room with her. Her soft giggles are calming, even if the worry stays with me.

To distract myself, I scroll on my phone. I trawl mindlessly through Twitter, then Instagram, then TikTok in rapid succession. Nothing holds my attention for long. It’s only when I hear the front door creak open and then slam unceremoniously shut that I consider going downstairs. Violet is snuggled with a plushy shark and snoring softly. She won’t need me for a while.

I go to Reese’s office. Anxiety grips my chest, but now that we’re alone, that stab of betrayal returns, and with it comes hot anger.

I want answers.

I knock on the door. He doesn’t answer, so I knock again, this time harder. So hard that my knuckles sting and turn red.

“Reese. Let me in.”

He doesn’t answer immediately. When I go to rap my knuckles against the door a third time, it rips open.

Framed in the doorway, Reese looks haggard. A tense, irritated furrow in his brow weighs it down. Before he can kick me out—and he has that look like that’s exactly what he wants to do—I slip into his office.

“We need to talk.”

Reese brushes past me, groaning as he plops back into his chair. “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s gone.”

That betrayal bubbles and then boils, spilling over into anger. “What do you mean, ‘There’s nothing to talk about’? You have a wife, Reese! A wife who knew where to find you, who just showed up! That’s Violet’s mother?—”

“If she’s Violet’s mother, I’ll handle that when the time comes,” he interrupts. “I’m making her get a maternity test. I’m not stupid.”

“You may not be stupid, but you sure as hell must think I am.”

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