Page 25 of By the Letter

Sammie

P.S. Goldie’s real name is Shira!

Black dotted my vision.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It couldn’t be. There was no way Shira was Goldie from room ten.

Goldie…Goldman…Christ was I stupid.

Just to be sure, I checked Shira’s contact information on my phone, confirming what I already knew I’d find. That was her phone number. There was no question my Goldie was Shira Goldman.

Goldie:It’s been a really long time for me.

WhenInRome:I won’t take it easy on you.

Goldie:I don’t want you to. I want you to do anything you want to me.

WhenInRome:Are you a dirty girl, Goldie?

Goldie:I think I am, but I’m too shy to ask for what I want. I just want someone—you—to take it—take me.

WhenInRome:Oh, I can do that. Send me a picture. Show me what I’m getting.

Goldie:No faces, right?

WhenInRome:No faces, no names. The anonymity makes it all the more fun, shy girl.

Her headline had said,“Shy, but I want you to use me,”and I’d been too intrigued to resist messaging her even though Iwas only supposed to be checking out the app for curiosity’s sake. Then she’d sent me pictures of her body, all petite and delicate with the most luscious curves, and…wow, that had been Shira. The best night of my life, bar none, had been with Shira Goldman.

Samantha kicked my foot. “Hey. Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” She leaned over me, running her sharp nail along the message still on my screen. “What does ‘the worst happened’ mean?”

“If the worst happens and you need to get in touch…”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I had a good time with you. Did you?”

“Yes,” she whispered so sweetly, a foreign pang twinged inside my chest. “It was everything I wanted.”

“Me too.”

Flashes of the past few weeks played out in my head. Shira, pale, dark bruises rimming her eyes. Racing to the bathroom when I mentioned Greek food. Falling asleep at her desk. Her clammy forehead. Running late for meetings—for the board meeting where I’d ambushed her. Passing out in the hallway.

She was pregnant. With my baby? All signs pointed to yes. Holy hell.

I looked at Samantha, though she barely registered. “I have to go.”

“Okay.” She straightened, giving me room to stand on shaky legs. “What should I tell your brother?”

I rubbed my forehead, trying to clear out my mess of thoughts. “Tell Ade I had an emergency. I’ll call him later.”

I found Shira’s address in GoldMed’s files and was at her door in less than thirty minutes. I had no game plan other than to findout if it was true—if she was really pregnant with my baby. Once I knew for sure, I’d begin to unravel the layers of fucked-upness I was dealing with.

I took a deep breath before I pounded on her door, forcing myself to stay calm. Going in guns blazing wasn’t the move here. This woman had just been hospitalized yesterday. The last thing she needed was the man she couldn’t possibly like very much throwing a fit on her porch.

Shira wasn’t the one who swung the door open, though. A blue-haired woman who looked like a goth Marilyn Monroe with soft curls and a fluffy black dress stood in the doorway, her hands on her rounded hips.

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