The Amendment (Arrangement #2)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

AINSLEY

I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle the revelation about Peter. I’d known enough before, but now that I knew everything, it was as if I’d learned it all again. The pain was fresh, the shock very real.

I told myself I could forgive him for anything, but now, I just didn’t know if that was true. I wanted to save him. To protect him from himself, but was that possible?

I’d failed before.

Not just with Peter. There had been others.

One other, specifically.

But that was the past. Peter wasn’t Ryan. This was different. We were different. I loved him more than I could say, and he loved me back. I wouldn’t fail to save him.

I couldn’t.

I wasn’t sure I’d survive it—

A knock at the door caused me to jolt.

“What?” I shouted over the sound of the water.

“It’s Maisy,” Peter said, his voice wary. The anger dissipated instantly, and I shut the water off, reaching for a towel and scrambling out of the shower.

“What is it? Is she okay?”

He jiggled the door handle. “She’s sick. Bailey’s mom just called. Do you want me to go get her?”

“No,” I said, too quickly. “No. I’m coming with you.” I dried my body quickly before opening the bathroom door and darting down the hall toward our room. Peter gave my body an appreciative glance, but I pretended not to notice. I couldn’t think of him in that way. Not now. We needed to get to our little girl.

She needed us.

In the bedroom, I dropped the towel, turning away from him as I pulled on my clothes and tied my hair back out of my face. Once I was dressed, I looked at him.

“Did you get rid of it?”

“It’s gone.” He patted his pocket, as if to prove a point.

“Good. We should stop by the pharmacy and pick her up some medicine. Did Amber say what was wrong with her?”

“Sounds like a stomach bug. Maisy mentioned there’s been one going around.”

“We’ll need crackers and broth, then. And ginger ale.” I rattled off the list, counting them off on my fingers. I might as well have kept them in my head; it wasn’t as if I could count on Peter to remember what I was saying.

I tugged on my shoes and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”

He was behind me as we made our way toward the garage. I checked to be sure he’d moved the shelf back to cover the secret room—not that he had ever forgotten that—and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“I’m texting her to let her know we’re leaving now,” he said.

I didn’t ask if he meant Amber or Maisy. I didn’t ask anything. My mind was focused on the to-do list forming in my head.

There was so much I still needed to say to my husband, but none of it mattered. I needed to get to my child.

Like so much else in my life, in our marriage, everything else could wait.

It’s what a good mother would do.