Page 70 of Infinite

“I’m not your baby,” I say. “And I need to do what’s right.”

I disconnect with him and wipe a tear. The large oaks stretch their long limbs, threading their branches to create an arch veiled with Spanish moss. I can maneuver blindfolded through these roads. I chuckle when I pass the fishing hole we’d visit as kids. Damn those gators. Poor Sean could have lost an arm.

My phone rings again. I only answer when I see it’s Trin. “Hey, Becks. How are you?”

I try to keep my voice even. “I’m almost home.” It’s an odd thing to say, but it’s my best answer.

“Oh, sweets, you sound tired.”

“I am,” I admit.

“Are you hungry, too? We just had brunch with Landon and Luci. We told everyone not to bring anything. Of course, both Momma and Luci did. It turned into a feast and I’m bringing leftovers to Hale’s.” She pauses. “Maybe you can eat together?”

I smile. “I’d really love that.”

“All right. We’ll be there as soon as the baby wakes up from her nap.” She sighs. “Becks, you don’t sound good. I know there’s a lot on your plate. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

My voice breaks. “Not right now. It’s just that, sometimes, it’s really hard to do the right thing.”

“I know,” Trin says. “But even the hard things pass. Until they do or when they’re at their hardest, you have me.”

I ignore the tears that stream down my face. “I know.”

“And don’t forget, now you have Hale, too.”

I laugh a little. “Yes. At least one thing is going right.”

I disconnect with Trin with a promise to see her soon. This morning began at the crack of dawn. I managed a shower before I received a text from Mr. Singleton demanding I reconsider pulling off the fake wedding or, at the very least, another fake engagement.

The press isn’t buying Denver’s broken heart. They would have, if he hadn’t gone out the night before and been photographed arriving at his million-dollar condo with yet another questionable woman. I told Mr. Singleton as much, slipped on a simple maxi dress and told him I was returning to Kiawah for the next few days.

He wasn’t happy. Neither was I. Goodness, I was so worked up, I didn’t even bother with decent shoes.

My spirits lift a little as I pull into the now familiar driveway. I tilt my head when I see a Porsche parked in front of his house. Mason. He must be there. He must have good news!

My sliders slap against my heels as I hop out of my car and hurry toward the house. Hale has seen me in worse, but if anyone can see past my disheveled appearance, it’s him.

I ring the doorbell, practically jumping in place and ready to throw my arms around him.

The door opens and—

A woman. A blond woman. Wearing panties and my dog pressed against her breasts answers the door. Her hair is tussled, as if she tossed and turned all night and in every position possible.

Her very perfect eyebrows lift, revealing very perfect makeup and a face Denver would be more than happy to introduce to his lap. “Yes?” she says.

“Ergah?” I respond.

She laughs. “My apologies. You must be the maid.” She walks merrily away, her bouncy butt cheeks poking through a semi-thong. “Don’t mind me, feel free to get started.”

I’m not sure how I walk in or if I walk straight at all. Never mind. I’m not walking. I’m storming, the door slamming hard enough behind me to rattle the windows.

I see red. No, this isn’t red. It’s a strobe light of magenta, orange, purple, and okay, red, too.

Like a queen, the blond falls into the comfortable couch. “Coffee?” she asks. “Yes, that sounds lovely. I take mine with just a splash of almond milk.”

My pulse pounds through my head. “Almond milk?”

“Yes,” she snaps, as if I didn’t hear her the first time.

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