Page 69 of Secret Twins for My Ex's SEAL Best Friend

I felt a stab of guilt in my chest. I hadn’t realized I’d been so obvious. “Gosh, do you really think…I mean, he seemed like he felt a little more optimistic when he left.”

Jeremy shrugged. “These guys always hide their feelings. No way to tell, really. You’ll get better at being more present, don’t worry about it.” He patted my shoulder. “I still think it was a good session.”

“Okay…” I hesitated at the door before leaving, feeling like I needed to fix it but knowing that I couldn’t. But when I looked back, Jeremy was already attending to his notes, not looking at me anymore.

I walked through the hallways to the office and found one of the administrative assistants, a woman named Linda, standing by the filing cabinets with a clipboard in hand. She looked up when she saw me and gave me a sheepish smile.

“Hey, Delia. Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked, her tone hesitant.

“Of course,” I said, setting my notes down on the desk. “What’s up?”

Linda hesitated, glancing at the clipboard before meeting my eyes. “We were doing a routine check on the recorded hours for your practicum, and… well, you’re missing some.”

“Missing?” I repeated, my stomach sinking. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you reported more hours than we have videos of,” she said, her brow furrowing. “We’ve checked the system multiple times. Do you know why that could be?”

“No,” I said, a little shrilly, then evened out my voice. “No. Is there somewhere else to check?”

“There’s no trace of them, Delia. Are you sure you reported the right amount?” Linda asked evenly, and I felt fear knot up in my shoulder blades. Was she accusing me of defrauding the system?An accusation like that could ruin my academic career.

“I’m...I guess I could have made a mistake, but it’s unlikely. I mean, I work the same amount every week,” I said lamely, as panic bubbled under the surface.

“I know,” Linda said comfortingly, sensing how anxious I was. “It’s like they were deleted.”

“How many hours?”

“192,” she said sheepishly, looking down for a moment, unable to meet my eyes.

“192?” I shrieked. I did the math in my head. I worked eight hours a week. Eight hours a week, times four weeks, times… “That’s six months!” Six months of hours. Gone.

Those hours were crucial for completing my practicum—without them, I’d be at risk of not meeting the requirements for graduation.

“Could they have been deleted? Is that possible?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, as I leaned forward over the counter like I might see them somewhere labeled ‘Delia’s missing videos.’

Linda met my eyes with her watery hazel ones. I could tell she felt bad, but her sympathy wouldn’t help me graduate. “We’restill looking into it. None of the other students’ videos were missing—just yours.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine. Just mine. The timing of it felt too coincidental, especially after what Robert had told me about the harassment at his classes. Was it possible someone was trying to sabotage us? And if so, why?

“I’ll figure it out,” I said weakly, though I wasn’t sure what I’d be figuring out exactly. What was I going to do, manifest the videos? If they were gone, they were gone.

I forced a smile and walked quickly out the door, my hands trembling slightly.

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that I’d faced challenges before and come out stronger. I could handle this, too. One step at a time. If I was late graduating, okay, so what? I could handle two more semesters. Couldn’t I?

And it still might work out. They might find the videos.

Or at least for now, that’s what I needed to think to get through the rest of the day without letting the weight of it all crush me.

thirty-two

Robert

The house was unusually quiet with Corinne back in school. She would be home in just a few hours with the nanny, but I had the house to myself the whole afternoon for the first time in a week. The fall break had been nice to have with her, but I always felt a bit of looming dread over what I’d return to during the holidays.

That, and I missed being able to hear myself think. But though the silence was something I’d craved, now that I had it, it pressed down on me, heavy and unrelenting. It gave me too much room to think.

I stood in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, scrolling through emails. Nothing urgent—just the usual updates about the company and the classes.

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