The Saturday he disappeared for five hours and claimed his brother needed help.
The calls he had started taking in the garage.
The password he recently added to a laptop folder.
The way he constantly checked his phone during dinner.
I had noticed everything.
I had simply chosen harmless explanations.
Because I trusted him.
A nurse hurried over with a wheelchair.
“How far apart are the contractions?”
“About four minutes now,” Adrian answered immediately.
He knew.
That hurt almost more than seeing him hold her.
He knew her contractions.
He knew exactly how close they were.
The nurse helped Maren sit.
“Relationship to patient?” she asked Adrian.
He froze.
I looked at him.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “I’d like to hear that too.”
“Hannah, not here.”
“Where would you prefer? Denver?”
The nurse looked uncomfortable.
Maren looked confused.
Then frightened.
“Adrian,” she said. “What’s going on?”
I stared at her.
“You really don’t know who I am?”
Her face paled.
“You’re Hannah.”
My stomach dropped.
She knew my name.
I hadn’t known hers sixty seconds earlier.
I folded my arms instinctively around my belly.
