Chapter 6
“What’s going on?” I asked as I held Mallory tight to me, subtly shaking my head when Chloe followed her out and opened her mouth to speak.
I’d never seen Mallory look the way she had when I’d been walking up to the coffee shop then, like she’d been on the verge of a panic attack. Mallory didn’t panic. Ever.
She’d also only let me hold her like this after those rare, vulnerable moments she’d shared with me through the years, when no one else was around. Yet there she was . . . in my arms. In public.
“What are you doing here?” Mallory asked, her voice muffled and strained.
“Getting coffee,” I murmured against her head, forcing a tease into my voice that I in no way felt.
“How are you here?” she countered as she put the slightest pressure against my chest, the way she always did. But the hesitancy of the touch and the gentleness of my Mallory during those times always made me want to cling tighter.
Not that I ever had.
I was in love with her . . . not delusional.
I reluctantly released my hold on her and watched as she lifted her beautiful face to meet mine.
I wavered between what exactly to tell her—because saying, “I saw your Jeep, so I turned around and followed you,” didn’t seem like a good way to start—when she added, “Why are you even in Huntley?”
“Wren text—”
A sound of aggravation and loathing tore from her throat as she shoved me back and started stalking away.
“Mal—”
“I know she texted you,” she seethed, whirling on me when I grabbed her hand. “I know why. So, go.” She tossed her free hand in the general direction of Pearson Farms, then tried pulling away from me.
“Let me explain.”
A bitter laugh bled from her. “There’s nothing to explain. I understand.”
“You really don’t,” I gently argued.
“No, see, I do,” she hissed as she stepped close enough that we, once again, found ourselves just inches apart.
Something I might’ve reveled in if her nearness hadn’t revealed the glassy sheen of her eyes or the slight tremble of her chin, making every part of me lock up.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever understood anything as clearly as I do right now—today, this hour, this minute.
And for that, I should say thank you. Thank you for making this so much easier for me. ”
“Monroe, this isn’t what you think.”
“And don’t worry,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “your job is secure, and it will remain secure.”
The last words were said so ominously and with so much certainty that my stomach dropped and my grip loosened enough for her to wrench her hand free.
I stood there, numbly watching Mallory walk away, before someone cleared their throat.
“This is where you go after her,” Chloe said pointedly.
My chest pitched and shoulders sagged because I had. I’d gone after Mallory Monroe so many times, I’d lost count. And each time, it’d somehow gotten worse.
Then again . . .
I held up my hand, showing the keys I’d snatched from Mallory. “She’s about to come back to me,” I said sadly, then looked over at my best friend’s wife, who was—as always—dressed in a shirt that showed her inner nerd. “What happened in there, Nerd?”
She gave me a look like she wished she knew.
“Well, she talked to me, which is a first. Not much, but still . . .” Chloe didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Mallory never talked to her, she was still beaming that bright smile like the world was full of rainbows and puppies and unicorns.
“Anyway, she said she had a meeting with Asher, then we were talking about Lainey not feeling well lately. I mentioned my suspicions on that—”
“Pregnant?”
Her eyes widened comically. “Right?”
I grunted in confirmation, not that Briggs had hinted at that. Still, I was nearly the exact opposite of Mallory—I had three older sisters. I’d heard enough about their stints with morning sickness to know the signs.
“Anyway, when I said that, she just”—Chloe passed one of the cups she was holding in front of her face—“totally shut down.”
I glanced in the direction Mallory had gone again, not that I could see her from where we stood, my brow furrowing as I wondered what about that news would make her panic so completely.
When my attention shifted back to Chloe, she was watching me with a healthy dose of suspicion.
“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling defensive.
She shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Just wondering if a certain wild you would happen to know why the mention of pregnancy would cause that reaction in a certain stone-faced Mallory.”
In an instant, I knew what she was suggesting. In that same instant, I couldn’t stop from thinking of Mallory Monroe pregnant . . . with my child.
The longing I felt at that thought was just as surprising as the pain and sadness that accompanied it because I knew that would never be our future. I’d known.
Didn’t matter that we were technically married, she was avoiding me in a way she never had before. Even if she wasn’t? She hated kids. And, if I’d taken Mallory’s pointed words correctly, she was about to remove herself from my life completely.
“What you’re implying is . . . no,” I said thickly, then had to clear my throat. “We haven’t, and she . . . no.” But the last word was said with little conviction as the math smacked me in the face.
Three months. Three, excruciating months since Aruba.
No. No, she wouldn’t—she would’ve told me. And we didn’t—we were clothed . . . right?
Chloe stepped closer, concern etched on her face.
“Hudson,” she began softly, hesitantly, “have you . . .” She glanced away from me to look around, as if she was worried who might overhear.
When her hazel eyes landed on mine again, she cleared her throat and continued, even softer than before.
“You haven’t gotten anyone else pregnant, have you? ”
“What?” I nearly choked over the word as it burst from me.
Chloe made a face like she wasn’t totally comfortable with the conversation and was worried about overstepping. “Wren—”
A curse tore from me, stopping Chloe from continuing. “What is it about Wren?” I demanded. “Why does everyone keep bringing her up?”
At that, Chloe gave me a look between utter confusion, disapproval, and blatant expectation.
Except, I didn’t know what she expected of me when it came to Wren.
When I just met her stare, Chloe slowly said, “Well, I mean, because of Aruba . . .”
My brow furrowed.
Aruba meant a lot of things. It’s where we’d taken our first and second vacations in too many years to count. It’s where Briggs had married Lainey. It’s where I’d married and lost my best friend. But I had no idea what Aruba meant when it came to Wren Pearson.
“What do you mean?” I finally asked. “What happened in Aruba?”
“Hudson . . .”
“Chloe, I have no idea what you’re talking about, so you’re gonna have to spell this out for me,” I said through clenched teeth.
Chloe’s cheeks reddened and her gaze dropped for a moment before hesitantly meeting mine again. “The day after Lainey and Asher’s wedding, when we all got together for brunch?”
I dipped my head in a single nod as I impatiently waited for her to continue. It didn’t matter that I’d been hungover—there was no forgetting that brunch. Not when I’d woken up to Mallory’s impressive slap less than an hour before, only to find out we were married.
“Right after you left, Wren got up to leave, saying not to bother the two of you because she ‘wanted a repeat.’”
My eyebrows shot up as disbelief and rage fought for dominance in my veins.
Worry creased Chloe’s forehead at whatever she saw in my expression, and she hurried to continue. “No one heard from y’all for hours, and then when the two of you came down for dinner together . . .”
“I ran into her on the elevator,” I explained, my tone harsher than I meant for it to be, since Chloe was just the messenger.
“I haven’t—” I stilled when I thought about Mallory’s reaction to me saying Wren’s name earlier, and her assuredness this morning that I’d been sleeping with people recently.
“I would apologize for keeping you from your normal . . . activities, but we both know it hasn’t changed anything.”
“Who knew this?” I demanded, nearly begged.
Chloe shrugged. “Everyone.”
My head moved in rough jerks because Mallory had left brunch before we’d ever started eating, hadn’t answered the times I’d gone to her room that day, and had already been at the airport by dinner, so I needed to know exactly who she meant. “Who’s everyone, Chloe?”
Her big eyes widened even more, trying to convey her meaning with that look alone. “Everyone.”
I dragged one of my hands through my hair, gripping at the longer strands on top as my mind raced and stomach pitched.
“Not that anything happened,” I began, “not that anything has ever happened with Wren, but how did it get back to Monroe?”
“I don’t know that,” she told me sadly, but something in her eyes told me she didn’t believe what I was saying, and it tore at another part of me.
To know that my personality had put such a definitive view in everyone’s minds of who I was made me second guess everything.
But I didn’t know how to change who I was, and I didn’t know how to change their thoughts of me when even Thatch and Mallory—my closest friends—were so sure this was who I was.
“Wren’s just as much of a flirt as I am—different ways and reasonings, but still a flirt,” I told Chloe. “Nothing has ever happened between us, but if she wanted people to think something had, I assure you, it had nothing to do with me. She probably did it to irritate Evans.”
At Chloe’s questioning look, I explained, “Briggs has had him watching Wren for a year because Lainey’s worried about her.
In that time, Evans has stopped every one of her attempts at bringing home a guy.
Wren probably—rightly—thought Evans wouldn’t do anything because it was me and because she said repeat.
Except, we didn’t do anything. I only saw her during meals and at the wedding. ”