Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
JADE
Devon's name lights up my phone screen, and I almost don't answer.
I'm still at Katrina's the next morning, curled up on the guest bed with a cold cup of coffee on the nightstand, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. It's been three weeks since I found out about the kiss, and it’s not getting any easier. I just can’t stop imagining the two of them together, and it’s destroying me.
I answer on the fourth ring.
"Can you come home?" His voice sounds weird. "I need to tell you something."
Fuck.
“What now?!”
"Please. I can't do this over the phone."
I want to refuse and stay in this guest room where nothing can hurt me, where I can borrow confidence from Katrina's Chanel No. 5.
But something in his voice won't let me.
"I'll be there in thirty minutes."
Devon is pacing when I walk through the door.
He looks wrecked—more wrecked than I've seen him since New York. His hair is a mess, like he's been running his hands through it for hours. His eyes are red-rimmed and wild.
"Sit down," he says, and his voice cracks on the second word.
“Devon, you're scaring me."
"I know. I'm sorry. Please—sit."
I lower myself onto the couch, my legs unsteady beneath me. Devon doesn't sit though—he keeps moving, his sneakers squeaking against the wood floor we picked out together, and I watch him with a dry mouth.
"Mila is working at my gym now," he finally states.
The fuck?
"What?" I snarl, jumping to my feet.
"She rented studio space for yoga classes. I found out yesterday."
My hands curl into fists against my thighs. "And you didn't tell me?"
"I was going to. I swear I was going to, but then she texted me this morning and—" He stops pacing and faces me, and instantly I know something awful has happened.
Part of me doesn’t even want to know.
"And what, Devon?"
He closes his eyes. Then he ruins our world, as if it could get any worse.
“She says she's pregnant."
Pregnant. Mila. Pregnant.
"She says it might be mine, but I didn’t sleep with her, Jade.” He sounds exhausted, like he’s drained. Like he’s tired of her.
I hear the words, but they come from very far away. Like Devon is speaking through a wall of cement, or thick glass, through years of distance that have suddenly opened between us.
Pregnant. With his baby. My husband’s baby.
"No." The word breaks out of me. "No, you said you didn't—you swore to me nothing—"
"I didn't!" Devon drops to his knees in front of me, his hands reaching for mine.
I jerk away, not wanting him to touch me.
"Jade, I swear to God, I never slept with her. The kiss was all that happened. She even said so herself—that morning, she told me it was just a drunken kiss. Those were her exact words."
"Then how can she—"
"She's lying." His eyes are desperately searching mine. "She has to be lying. She keeps telling me I blacked out, that I don't remember, but I know my body, Jade. I know what we did and didn't do."
I stare at him—at this man I've loved since I was eighteen years old—and I feel something inside me break completely into shards too small to count.
“But she’s saying she’s pregnant.” My voice doesn't sound like mine. “With your baby.”
The sob rips through me before I can stop it.
Mila Harris—Mila who mocked my body in locker rooms, who made me feel like shit every time she saw me—she’s telling everyone she’s carrying my husband's child?
"Jade." Devon's voice breaks on my name. "Baby, please—she's lying." He says it again, like it will make it true. "I never touched her."
I stare at him, almost through him, my mind drowning in scenarios I can’t even bring to the surface. I thought I knew pain, but this?
No, this is agony. Pain on steroids.
"The kiss was all that happened," he insists, staring into my eyes. "I stopped it. I told her it was wrong, and then I passed out in that chair. She even said it herself the next morning. I’m telling you right now, Jade, I did nothing more than that stupid fucking kiss.”
I want to scream at him, but a different thought rises through the rage.
Mila said it was a drunken kiss. That's all.
I remember Devon telling me this during one of our awful fights. Mila dismissed it herself.
So why would she suddenly claim pregnancy?
The answer arrives with sickening certainty: because she knows exactly what would hurt me most.
"She's doing this on purpose." I hear my voice change into something monstrous.
Devon blinks. "What?"
"She knows." I stand up, and Devon scrambles backward to give me room. "She knows we don’t have children, and she's using it to—"
The violence that sweeps through me is unlike anything I've felt before. It's not hot; it's cold. Ice fucking cold.
"She bullied me for years, Devon. She made my life hell whenever you weren't looking.
Called me names, made comments about my body, took pictures of me changing and threatened to share them.
" I watch his face go white. "And now she's doing it again.
Different tactics, same goal. She wants to break me. "
"Jade—"
"She's not going to."
I don't recognize myself at this moment. Mila has finally pushed me too far. She's using motherhood—my deepest craving—against me, and something in me refuses to take it.
"I'm going to confront the bitch.”
"What?" Devon's eyes go wide. "No. Absolutely not."
"I'm not asking for your permission." I glare at him.
"Jade, she's unstable. There was something off. Something ugly and crazy.”
"Good." I grab my keys from the counter.
Devon catches my arm. "Let me come with you. Please. Don't face her alone."
I look at him—at the fear in his eyes, the desperate need to protect me. For weeks, I've doubted this man, his love, his honesty, and his commitment. But right now, at this moment, I see him clearly.
He's terrified. Not for himself—for me. I relent slightly.
"We’ll go together," I say. "But I'm the one who talks to her. Do you understand?"
Devon nods. His hand finds mine and squeezes. I let him.
Just then there’s a loud smash, and our car alarm goes off. I jump, my eyes wide as I stare at the door.
“What was that?”
Devon is moving already, ripping open the front door, the car keys already in his hand as he fumbles with them, trying to silence the noise.
“What the fuck?” I hear him utter, and I hurry behind him, peeking over his shoulder to see what he’s seeing.
My driver’s side window has been smashed, and the lights and alarm are going crazy. Devon hits the button on the keys again, and silence falls.
“Oh, my God…” I whisper as Devon strides to the end of our driveway, searching the street.
“Motherfuckers,” he curses, dragging a hand through his hair. “They’ve gone.”
I stare at the broken window, wondering who would want to do this to me. I mean, it’s not the worst neighborhood in the world—why would someone smash our window and leave? Nothing has ever happened here before.
“It’s okay, Jade.” Devon stands before me, rubbing my arm. “It’s probably kids. Go inside. I’ll secure the car the best I can and call someone to get it fixed.”
He sighs and stares back at the car, his brows knitting together.
I know what he’s thinking. Everything around us is shattering. Even the car.