Almost Enough

Chapter 1

Ellary

Walking into Jackson's office building, I'm bouncing with excitement as I wave at Meghan at the front desk. She's on a call, so she smiles and motions me toward the hallway leading to Jackson’s office, mouthing that I don't need to sign in.

I was going to wait until he came home from work to surprise him, but this news is too big to contain for hours. He needs to know now.

We’ve been trying to get pregnant for six years.

Six.

After two years of trying, we went for fertility testing. Everything came back clear. Jackson’s count was good, and I was ovulating. There was no reason why we couldn’t get pregnant. We were talking about IVF, and I was starting to think I would never be a mom when I missed my period.

As I walk along the carpeted hallway of the independent logistics company owned by Jackson’s godfather, I notice Rachel, Jackson’s assistant’s, desk is empty. She’s probably busy filing or photocopying.

I called Jackson from the doctor’s office three times. Texted once. Nothing. I’d done it right after I’d got my blood results back. The at-home pregnancy tests say they’re 99% accurate, but even after taking the test five times and repeatedly getting two pink lines, what if I was the 1% exception?

A visit with my doctor and a blood test confirmed something I hadn’t been willing to believe: I’m pregnant. I’m actually pregnant.

Jackson always responds when I call. He works hard for our family. I never want to pull him away from his job unless it’s an emergency. He knows that.

My footsteps are quiet on the thick carpet, and Jackson’s door is open a crack.

There’s no sign of his boss from his office further up the hallway. He must be at a meeting. They all must be for it to be so quiet at three o’clock.

I lift my hand and push the door open the rest of the way.

The lights are dim, and the blinds are closed.

My heart melts when I see him sitting behind a paper-cluttered desk, his dark-blond head tilted back. I smile. My husband. He must be exhausted to be taking a nap at work.

I consider leaving the pregnancy test I brought with me on his desk, letting that be the first thing he sees, not me. He’ll gather me in his arms and spin me around the way he did when I said yes after he proposed. It’ll be another memory to cherish when we’re gray-haired and old.

The top two buttons on his shirt are undone. His tie is on his desk. Seeing it reminds me of leaning my head against the doorframe this morning as he got ready for work.

Through the mirror, his mouth curls into a smile. “I feel you watching me, sweetheart.”

With a grin, I slip into the bathroom behind him, wrap my arms around his waist, and kiss the back of his shoulder. He smells of cologne. An amber and cedar blend I got him for his birthday five years ago, and one he wears every day for work. “I have your lunch packed.”

Finished with his tie, he turns, dipping his head to claim a kiss. “My beautiful wife, taking such good care of me.”

I almost tell him about the positive pregnancy test. My lips open, but doubt settles in.

If the blood test is wrong, another false result will devastate him almost as much as it devastates me.

I’ll wait until I’m sure. I’ll wait until after the doctor’s appointment to tell him all our dreams have finally come true.

A low groan returns me to the present.

Jackson stirs in his chair.

Smiling, I pull the pregnancy test from my purse as I step inside his office, ready to surprise him from his nap with the news that will have him thinking he’s still dreaming.

He groans loudly, face taut.

I stop, confused.

What is he doing?

“Fuck.” He groans again, his face slowly relaxing as he stills in his chair.

Blue eyes flutter open, and a satisfied smile stretches across his lips.

I know that look.

I’ve made love to my husband enough times over the years to know when he’s having sex or just had it.

My pulse roars in my ears.

With a grin, he looks down and helps a female figure up from behind his desk. “Damn. That just about blew my mind.”

Jackson’s assistant.

Rachel came to my birthday party at our house last year.

I turned twenty-nine, and we had everyone over for a backyard barbecue with cake.

She brought a gift—a beautiful silk scarf—and smiled at the front door as she passed it over.

Jackson took the gift from her and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, saying he was glad she could make it.

Twenty-three years old, blonde with perky breasts, a bright white smile, and striking bright green eyes. She’s in a tight gray skirt and a fitted white blouse, her hair in a high ponytail as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Stunning.

Exactly the sort of girl a woman might worry would turn her husband’s eye. Not me. Jackson loves me. He would never cheat.

I wondered why no one was answering their phones. Now I know.

She grins at him. “I’m not ready for it to be over if you’re not.”

Jackson must feel me watching from just inside his office.

His eyes flick to me.

He freezes.

“Ellary?” His voice is slightly hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

I’m barely conscious of slipping the pregnancy test back into my purse.

As I retreat, all the signs come together to paint a picture so revolting I can’t believe I’m not already throwing up.

The dim lights.

The closed blinds.

The unanswered calls and ignored text message.

Now it all makes sense.

My voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away. “You didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t reply to my text. And now I walk in and see—” I can’t finish. “I have to go.” Before I throw up. I still might.

“Ellary!”

Desperation flashes across his handsome face, and he surges to his feet.

My gaze drops and my heart goes cold.

I take in his bare thighs, his flaccid dick still wet from her mouth.

Pink lipstick around my husband's cock.

Bile rises up my throat as tears stream down my cheeks. My heart shatters.

“I can explain,” he calls out desperately, dragging his pants up his legs. “It’s not what it looks like.”

I laugh, bitter and hard. “God, Jackson. Do you hear yourself?”

Rachel moves toward me, her beautiful face twisted in sympathy.

I back up, wanting her nowhere near me. “Don’t leave on my account. You just made him come. The least you deserve is dinner.”

My eyes return to Jackson. My husband. But not for much longer.

“It’s over.” My fingers don’t want to work. The wedding ring feels stuck on my hand. I force it off, dropping it on the floor on my way out the door.

Jackson calls my name—once, twice, desperate—but I don’t look back.

I can’t.

Jackson didn’t just break my heart; he broke our family.