Page 24 of The Devil Gets His Due

I can’t believe she’s discussing her vagina at 11 a.m. in a public place, but I’m guessing it isn’t a first for Keeley. “I’m coming to the appointments. I also want to stay married until the baby’s born,” I continue. “I know it’s old-fashioned, but…I do.”

She blinks. I suspect she’d already forgotten we were married. “Fine, but aside from Ben and Gemma, let’s tell everyone it was all, you know,intentional. My dad would be really ashamed if he knew the truth.”

“Has he ever seen your apartment? I’d be shocked if he wasn’t already ashamed.”

Her mouth twitches. “Don’t make me start second-guessing this whole thing.”

So it’s happening…A spur of the moment suggestion last night—one I suspect I’ll come to regret—and it’s only hitting me now how huge it was. I haven’t lived on the west coast or with another human since grad school. My apartment, my job, my entire life is going to be left behind for four months. And from the looks of it, not a moment too soon. “We’ll tell them it was all intentional. I can help clear that room tomorrow if you want.”

“Tomorrow?What’s the rush?”

I glance at her breakfast again. “Given your eating habits, time is of the essence.”

She heaves a weary sigh, and another tendril of hair escapes her messy bun. I fight the urge to push it out of her face.

“Since there’s nothing left to discuss,” she says, rising and gathering what’s left of her scone, “I think I’d like to enjoy my breakfast in peace.”

13

KEELEY

“Graham’sthe father?” Gemma shouts.

So I guess wedidhave things to discuss. Like when we’d be telling his brother and my best friend.

I sink onto the floor of my closet where an entire emptied rack of clothes now lies. I pick up the Alaia dress I only wore once, trying to think of a use for it, but no…I was in an electric blue phase and it’s probably not happening again.

“You can understand my predicament. If I told you, you’d have to tell Ben.”

There’s aclick, click, clickfrom her side of the line, which probably means her foot is tapping repeatedly against something. She does that when she gets fired up. “But how? You guys hate each other. You’vealwayshated each other.”

“Obviously, alcohol was a significant factor. I have no idea how it happened.”

Which is sort of true, but also…not entirely true. I remember tiny slivers, and the more I’m remembering, the more real it becomes to me. I’m beginning to suspect I might really have enjoyed everything that led to this pregnancy. Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t remember.

“And you’re letting him move in? The two of you will kill each other.”

I rise to look at a white pantsuit that is cut all the way to my navel. Obviously, I won’t be wearing this anytime soon. I toss it onto the discard pile. “In all likelihood, only one of us will die. And as long as it’s him, there really isn’t a problem.”

She groans. “It troubles me when I use a metaphor about murder and you take it literally.”

The old Gemma would have laughed, but the old Gemma wasn’t related to Graham. Which leads me to Ben. I like her husband. He’s always been nice to me, even when I grabbed her phone and set her up on a date with someone else because I thought he was cheating.

But our past, coupled with my efforts to exclude Graham from the pregnancy, isn’t a great look for me, overall.

“Is Ben…pissed?”

“He’s worried,” she replies, which sounds a lot likeyesto me. “You know how protective he is of his brothers. They went through a lot when they were little.”

I snort. I’ve seen photos of his mother’s house, and I’m not going to feel sorry for any of her offspring. “Yeah, it was so hard for them, being raised in a mansion in Newport. That one time the electric gates didn’t work must have been super traumatic.”

She laughs, but it fades quickly. “That house was a recent purchase. You know their dad died, right? He was in a car accident right after Colin was born. Graham was only eight and it was a mess for a long time.”

Oh. Shit.I knew their father had died, but I didn’t realize it was quite so…tragic. I was half-prepared to let him go through life without knowing about his own kid when he spent most of his life without his dad too.

If I allowed myself to do so, this might make me feel guilty. But life’s too short for guilt. My life, in particular.

I wakein a good mood on Sunday and feel energetic enough to clean for once—a necessity since my cleaning lady is arriving tomorrow. She’ll quit on the spot if she sees my place in its current state. I walk down the street to my favorite bakery and get two Sunday muffins—one for me, one for Mark. It has frosting and three kinds of chips: white chocolate, butterscotch, and peanut butter, but it has cranberries and is therefore healthy. Once I’m done savoring every last bite of it, I get to work. The dishwasher is loaded, and I dispose of this week’s donut boxes. I get my luggage moved out of the family room and am dancing around the kitchen with music blasting when Graham walks through the open door.

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