Page 93 of Seven of Hearts

We had picked this room to be the nursery because it was closest to Logan’s and my bedroom, and was painted a beautiful sky blue.

I trailed my hand along the walls, picturing it with a 70s style wood-paneled wall. Maybe a green shag rug, too.

The door opened and closed, footsteps echoing through the house.

That was strange. Maybe Logan had come over early? But he had just started his meeting and those didn’t sound like his footsteps.

Maybe it was Kristin or Kylie?

But Kylie said she’d be by tomorrow to help unpack because she was swamped with bridal consultations today.

Zoey was in school . . .

Maybe Erica had walked over with her kids?

I closed the nursery door behind me and padded down the hallway. “I’m coming,” I called out.

But the woman standing in the kitchen wasn’t anyone I would have ever guessed.

Logan had told me that his mother was being released from prison, but part of me didn’t quite believe it.

That was, until I was staring at Cheryl Boyd with my own two eyes.

The woman who had thrown princess-themed slumber parties for Kylie and me and brought orange slices and granola bars to little league soccer games looked decades older than the last time I had seen her.

“Leah Holloway.” My name echoed from her mouth like a question, an insult, and a threat all in one.

Both arms wrapped around my belly like I could protect the baby from her gaze.

“What are you doing here?” I stammered.

Cheryl let out the wry laugh of a pack-a-day smoker. Or maybe that was just what prison had done to her. “Good news travels fast,” she said. “Got back into town. Didn’t take long to find out that my son had moved back, knocked up the little girl who used to come around my house, and bought a new place.” She looked around the cottage. “Now I see why he cut me off.” Disdain dripped from every word.

Call it maternal instincts, but I knew she wasn’t here to offer her congratulations. My gut told me that she knew Logan wasn’t here and that I was all alone.

My skin buzzed electric as Cheryl turned and walked the perimeter of the living room like she was inspecting the house.

My phone was still on the kitchen counter. Did I grab it and call Logan? Would he pick up if he was still in his meeting? Did I call 911? What did I tell them? My baby daddy’s ex-con mother who was legally released from prison showed up at my house? Logan had dropped me off, so I didn’t have a car. Running to Erica Pelham’s house wouldn’t be bad if I wasn’t seven months pregnant. But I was. And even though prison had done a number on Logan’s mom, she still looked like a threat.

“Mrs. Boyd, I’m not sure why you came here, but I think it’s best if you go,” I said as neutrally as I could. I didn’t want to rile her up, but I also wasn’t going to give an open-ended invitation that maybe we could figure out a better time.

Cheryl lifted an eyebrow, but generally paid me no mind as she snooped through the mountain of boxes. “You and I aren’t all that different, Leah.”

I couldn’t help the scoff that slipped out of my mouth as I eased toward my phone. I couldn’t wait to hear the mental gymnastics she had done to come to that conclusion.

“You used my daughter to weasel your way in with my son. Quite a meal ticket you got yourself.”

Why did everyone think I didn’t have a good job? Geez, she was like my mother.Not that I was about to tell Cheryl that I worked for two families who were just as wealthy as Will Solomon.

“That’s not what happened,” I said defensively.

It was quite possibly the stupidest thing I could have said, because it piqued her interest.

“It’s not?” Cheryl let out a disturbingly dark laugh. “Because I had a lot of time to think and do the math,” she said as she looked pointedly at my belly. “Logan only started dodging my calls and withholding what he owed me when that happened.”

“He owes younothing,” I clipped. “Now get out of my house.”

“I think you mean my son’s house,” Cheryl said as she moved closer.

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