Page 15 of The Amendment

“That’s not fair!” he whined.

“We haven’t said anyone can come,” Peter reasoned. “But you knew we weren’t going to agree to that.”

“She can stay in a different room! Come on, Dad, please?”

“Well, if Maisy and Dylan are having friends over, I want to bring someone, too!” Riley chimed in.

“No,” I said, cutting off the conversation sharply. “No. No one’s coming. No one’s bringing anyone. We’re going for family time. The five of us. That’s it.”

Groans were heard all around, but I took another bite of my soup, ignoring them.

“Come on, guys,” Peter said halfheartedly. “It’ll be fun.”

“Whatever,” Dylan groaned.

“Fine,” Maisy said.

“I guess,” Riley grumbled.

“Sounds good, babe,” Peter added, though he couldn’t hide the worried grin on his face.

I picked up my spoon again, wondering why I’d even bothered. Some part of me still longed for the family we’d once been. Before the secrets and lies. Before the kids grew up.

But we were no longer those people. I was no longer that woman.

The man across from me was no longer that man.

Could I bring them back? Or had too much changed after all?

If I gave up on them, what did that mean for our futures?

CHAPTER EIGHT

PETER

Despite years of sharing a bed with her, I’d never gotten used to how peaceful my wife looked while she was sleeping. Perhaps it was because I never saw her in such a state while she was awake.

It always amazed me, the sheer quietness of her face—no expression, no stress lines. She was just…existing.

I watched her breathing, her chest rising and falling steadily, as I waited for the text to come from Jim to let me know he was pulling down the driveway.

I had to hope Ainsley would stay asleep through it all, that I’d be able to sneak whatever this was into the room without her noticing.

Maybe I should’ve just told her what was happening, but I knew my wife. I knew she wouldn’t have been okay with the blackmail—because that’s what it was at the end of the day.

I was being blackmailed by a man I once considered my best friend.

Of course, that was before I knew who he was. Before I knew what he’d done.

Before he brought me into his world and ruined my life.

I’d met Jim the week I moved into my college dorm. As my roommate, he was my default friend, and because I had no others, I latched on to him.

I’d never had a good relationship with the men in my life—my dad and older brothers—and I’d had very few friends growing up, so I’m embarrassed to admit how desperately I wanted Jim’s approval.

I thought he was cool.

Three years older, despite being a freshman like I was, he was one of those guys with an effortless swagger and confidence I couldn’t have attempted if I was paid to.

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