Page 53 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“Nuh-uh. I’m never having kids. Not biological ones, anyway. You really think I want to burden someone with this?”

My only hope was that this horrible ability would die when I did.

“I suppose when you put it that way…”

“Do you know, you’re the first person I’ve ever told that. With my ex-husband, I kept my mouth shut until we got divorced.”

Oh, the arguments it had caused… Before the wedding, Alan swore he didn’t want children, and since he was twenty years older than me and therefore should have had plenty of time to consider these things, I’d accepted the ring when he proposed. Yes, I was a trophy wife, okay? But I thought he was the safe option, and I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. Except six months after we tied the knot, he changed his mind. His sister had a baby, you see, and he kept going on and on about wanting an heir to leave his fortune to.

“You split up over kids?”

“The lack of them? Yes.”

That and the fact he’d taken matters into his own hands and gotten his secretary pregnant when I refused to acquiesce to his demands. Was I bitter? Not really. I’d never loved him enough to hate him, and he offered a generous settlement if I agreed to end things quickly and waived my right to alimony. A clean break had suited me just fine, and after I bought my house, I’d tucked the remainder of the cash away in equities and bonds and funds, the income from which would provide me with a perfectly comfortable lifestyle even if I chose not to work. And Alan? The last I heard, the secretary had given birth to her second set of twins and he’d taken up fly fishing just to get out of the house.

“I’m sorry,” Reed said.

“Don’t be. If nothing else, it confirmed what I already knew deep down—that serious relationships aren’t something I can entertain.”

“And Tim?”

“Apparently, he was good looking. Don’t judge me. Thousands of men do exactly the same thing.”

Reed chuckled. “I’m not judging. It’s just that I can’t picture a girl like you having a one-night stand.”

“What do you mean, a girl like me? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just that you’ve got this prim thing going on with the frilly skirts and the bows and the little heels.”

I felt the neck of my blouse. What was wrong with a pussy bow?

“Just because I don’t like letting my cleavage hang out…”

He held both hands up. “Hey, I like it, okay? But no one’s gonna mistake you for a hooker.”

“Oh. That’s good, I think. But I’ll have you know I still enjoy a good party.”

“Champagne and canapés?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry.” He was still laughing, the pig. “Georgette. Let’s go back to Georgette. Start at the beginning.”

“Well, I met her after Tim drugged me. I didn’t even notice her before I got into the car, what with the windows being tinted, but then she started speaking. And she told me…”

Reed’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

“She told me her name, and that she’d died in the car after… What is it?”

He was staring at the screen with a mixture of apprehension and excitement if his expression was anything to go by. Was it a lead in the case?

“It’s a message from my sister. Wishing me a happy birthday.” Now he shook his head in disbelief. “Nothing for months, and now this?”

“When’s your birthday?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“Oh. I guess it’s sweet that she remembered, even if it’s a bit late.”

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