Page 30 of The Last Trip

“Scammer, probably,” he mumbles. “Come here.”

Suddenly, he sounds much different than the last time we were all together. Less stiff and formal. Less nervous. She giggles, and my blood runs cold.

His next words send my world into a spiral. “I’ve missed you.”

I know what I should do. I should walk away. I should leave and get myself out of this mess. I should gather evidence, pack my things, and move out. But I can’t. Before I know what’s happening, my knuckles are on the door, and he’s pulling it open, and we’re staring at each other. My vision is blurred with tears and rage as she shakes her head, both of them ready to deny what I already know.

“You’re cheating!” I shout, not caring that the door is open and I’m still standing in the hallway, not caring that I’m making a fool of myself. “You’re cheating on me, you asshole!How could you?” I bellow at Cal, a finger pointed at him as I march into her home without waiting for an invitation. White-hot fury radiates through me as I whip my head around to face her. “And you! Was this always your plan? What did you want from me?” Maybe her betrayal stings worst of all, but I don’t understand why. “Was it all a lie?”

“No,” she says, a hand on her stomach. “No, Sadie, listen—” She takes a step forward, but Cal shuts the door and moves between us before she can reach me.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “How did you even find me?”

My face crumples as I stare at him. There isn’t a hint of guilt or sadness in his expression. “Is that really what you want to ask me right now? You don’t even care that I know about the two of you? That I caught you red-handed?” I look between them. “How could you do this to me?” I step back, my hand caressing my belly as I realize what this means. “How could you do this to us?”

“You don’t understand,” Janelle says, pushing past him. No—tohim. She wraps her arm around his.

“What is there to possibly understand?” I’m going to be sick. “Why are you doing this to me? Is it because of what I did? Are you trying to get me back or something? Steal my fiancé and make me pay?”

“What is she talking about?” Cal demands, looking at Janelle for the first time.

“Listen to me. He’s not your fiancé, Sadie,” she says firmly, and it’s as if the room is now spinning, the floor gone.

“What are you talking about? Of course he is.” My body is a solid block of weightless ice.

“No.” She closes her eyes, bracing herself for what’s to come. When she opens them, they drill into mine. “He’s my husband.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

HIM — BEFORE

It takes another two years to finally get her down the aisle, and once I do, we start trying for a baby right away. Of course, she doesn’t know we’ve been trying for a baby for much longer than that, but now we’re completely unencumbered.

My timeline is wrecked. I was supposed to have a kid between the ages of thirty-five and forty. Over and over, that has been proven to be the most ideal window of time for someone to become a parent. Maybe it would’ve been easier to just find someone else, but Janelle is special. I refuse to have been wrong about her.

A few months after the wedding, I started talking about how she needs to see a doctor.

“It’s not that unusual, you know. I read it can take up to eight months to conceive on average, or even a year before it’s considered abnormal. I’ve told you my cycles have always been a little weird anyway, and I’m just coming off birth control. It might take some time.”

And she’s right. It takes two more months, two more misses, before she agrees to go.

At the appointment, the doctor confirms what I’ve long suspected. My sperm is healthy as a horse, but my wife isless than ideal for a mate. Her uterus isn’t a perfect host, her eggs aren’t healthy, and she doesn’t ovulate regularly. In general, there’s a less than ten percent chance we’ll ever conceive naturally, and neither of us can afford IVF. I don’t want to adopt, though the doctor mentions it as an option as well. My kid has to have my DNA. Period.

Now, not only have I waited and wasted so much time on this woman, but she’s not going to be able to carry my child anyway. I’ve never felt so defeated.

We could keep trying, I know. Janelle is only twenty-five. She’s young enough that she has a few good years left in her, but I refuse to be an old dad. My plan is important to me, and I’ll make it work.

I glance over at Janelle on the way home, a new plan already formulating in my head. An amendment to the plan.

“Maybe this is for the best,” she tells me, though there are tears in her eyes. “Maybe we’ll just get to enjoy each other for a few more years and then we can, like, adopt a kid from foster care. I’ve always thought that would be really special.”

I feel sick at the suggestion. How can she be okay with this? None of it is okay. As special as she is, I chose the wrong woman to marry. And now it’s too late. Divorce definitely isn’t part of the plan. I can’t admit to both a mistakeandfailure.

This won’t do. This won’t do at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HIM — BEFORE

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