Page 65 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

I suppose she thinks her nausea might be quelled with something simple like chicken noodle soup.

It tells me so much about her childhood, and I can see Little Hannah now, sick and slurping noodles. Finally, I decide she might want more than the one kind of soup, so I decide to just grab one of each kind to be on the safe side.

Last minute, I grab every kind of pregnancy test they have, too. My cart looks like that of a madman.

Before I go back home, I decide to stop by the gym to check up on things. I hadn’t expected the outing with Hannah to take up my entire day, and this reality check from her has me thinking, again, about the missing money from the gym.

When I started the gym, it was to have a legacy for the future.

And while I didn’t know exactly where the future would lead, I knew I wanted to leave my mark on the world. For who, I didn’t really know.

It seemed to be less important as time went on and I failed to find someone significant to share my life with.

But now, the possibility oftwosomeones, three if I count Lucy, has me thinking I need to fix this business problem so we can both rest easy.

The soup cans roll around my floorboard, spilling out of their bags, the result of my hurried packing at the check stand. In the final analysis, only one got dinged when it dropped to the ground in the parking lot.

Once at the gym, I get to the office just as Sarah takes her break.

She nods primly at me as she picks up her purse, a small silver number with fringe hanging from the bottom. “Sarah, you getting out of here early?”

“Just taking my break,” she replies, squeezing past me to leave. “I’ll be back in thirty.”

“Okay, I might have a question or two for you when you get back.”

“What about?”

“You’re off the clock. You go take your break,” I respond, smiling broadly at her, the cans in my car on my mind, the insides heating up even as the LA sun sets.

Once Sarah leaves, I begin my secret mission.

I sit down at the desk and look through the financial statements for the gym.

Not the ones that Hannah showed me – that I had provided to her -- but the ones that she originally wanted me to provide.

These documents show the individual transactions that I’d been too afraid to face.

Without Hanna’s accountant eyes, I feel lost at sea, my eyes on numbers swimming in front of me, the sea of transactions dark and stormy.

Scanning through the records, lists of number after number, something catches my eye.

I see a transaction that doesn't quite match up to what I know of our inventory. It's not a huge discrepancy, but it's there, undeniably there.

I furrow my brow, tapping my pen against the desk as I try to make sense of it.

It could be a mistake. It could so easily be a mistake.

My heart sinks as I notice another irregularity. And another.

And only one person has control over this. And she’s just left the building.

Anger simmers beneath the surface as I continue to sift through the spreadsheets.

I start to realize what Hannah meant about it being dangerous to put one person in charge of all of this, without any checks and balances.

Despite my fear of betrayal, I’ve set myself up perfectly to be betrayed.

How could Sarah do this to me? I’ve always treated her fairly and paid her well. I’ve been fair to her. I’ve trusted her.

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