Page 86 of Your Soul to Keep

“What does he expect,” Bridge asked gently. “Isaiah will be in his life but not Kian? What kind of message does that send to Isaiah?”

Wren’s face blanked then settled. “That’s true. And that might work.” She met Bridge’s eyes, a question in her own.

Bridge held her hands up. “We’re just friends. I mean, he’s hot,” her face flamed as her eyes widened with her blurted admission, “but we’re just friends.”

Wren chuckled softly. “It wouldn’t bother me, you know.”

Bridge shook her head briskly. “It’s not relevant.”

“Well,” Wren teased, “should it ever become relevant? I have no objection.”

Bridge shook her off, but I wondered. It wasn’t the first time she’d shown concern for Kian.

My daily video call with Dylan eased some of the ache caused by the shower meetings. By the time I fell into bed shortly before midnight, I was good, counting the hours until Sunday morning when I’d see them both.

When I saw his text message on Friday afternoon asking me to call him, my heart hammered in my chest.

Phone calls like that rarely carried good news.

Hands shaking, I locked myself in my office and paced back and forth while dialling his number.

“Hey, Shae-baby.” His deep, warm voice flowed over my shattered nerves like a balm. Even still, I heard a hint of trepidation.

I froze in place. “What’s wrong? Is Dylan okay? Your parents? Oh, God, are you okay? Was there a fire? Where are you?”

“She’s fine, I’m fine,” he rushed to reassure me. “Nothing’s wrong, but something unexpected came up.” He took a breath. “Zoe’s here.”

“Zoe? Dylan’s mother?” I asked stupidly even while the photograph of that pretty woman laughing with Dylan in her arms settled into my brain.

I circled around my desk and sank into my chair.

“Yeah, Aunt Zoe to Dylan. She arrived last night—”

“Last night,” I repeated.

“Yes,” he answered carefully. “She didn’t tell me she was coming and booked a room at the resort. We had dinner together last night and she had a visit with Dylan.”

I braced my elbows on the desk, my head tipped down, eyes tracing the knicks and scratches on the wood. Why hadn’t he told me last night?

Did it matter?

My stomach sickened. “Last night,” I repeated stupidly.

Of course it mattered.

If it didn’t, he would have told me when he texted me before bed.

Unless…

“Shae?”

Where was Dylan when they had dinner? Where did they have dinner? Why did they go out without Dylan, wasn’t she the reason Zoe visited?

Oh, God. He said they were friends. Did he still have feelings for her? Did she regret leaving? Was she here to try to get him back?

“I can hear you thinking from here,” he murmured. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

I snorted. I couldn’t be that far off. Obviously at some point, not all that long ago, he found her appealing enough to sleep with her even after Dylan was born. Did they live together when she was born? Were they a family? Oh, God. How long were they together before she got pregnant?

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