The Other Mrs. Cole

Chapter 3

Right before seven, Weston pulled into the driveway right on schedule with a pastry box swinging from his fingers.

He brushed his lips against my cheek, and his voice came out honey-sweet. "Starving?" he asked. "Snack on this while I whip up dinner."

I stared at his silhouette under the amber glow, and my heart squeezed so tight that I gasped for air.

How could the man from that afternoon, all hungry hands and whispered promises to another woman, be the same one now playing house with me?

Bile rose in my throat, bitter and burning.

Dinner appeared moments later, a feast fit for a queen, with every dish being my weakness.

Even the shrimp had been peeled with surgical precision and arranged just for me.

The baby's nanny sighed and looked starry-eyed. "Mr. Cole dotes on you, ma'am," she said.

Did he now?

Yet he had still slept with someone else.

His phone buzzed like an angry hornet.

He silenced it with a swipe, and his face became unreadable. Then he dropped the lie, smooth as silk. "Babe, there is just a tiny fire at the Norbridge office," he said. "I have to fly out and play hero."

He added that he would be back tomorrow or maybe the next day. "Eat properly," he said. "If the little monster throws a tantrum, let Mary handle it."

I nodded, and my nails bit into my palms. "Go," I said.

His lips ghosted over my forehead and then over our child's before he vanished.

I dropped my fork with a clatter, thrust the baby at the nanny, and shadowed him while my pulse hammered.

That caller ID had burned into my retinas: Ms. Blake.

Blake as in Hadley.

His tires screeched through intersection after intersection, and he ran every red light like a man possessed.

There were no pretenses now, just raw and reckless panic.

I clutched my aching chest and crept toward the hospital room where the door hung open a c***k, spilling out harsh fluorescent light.

Weston's hissed words sliced through the antiseptic air. "I said no calls after dark," he said.

Then his gaze landed on Hadley, who was whole and unharmed, and his voice melted, all sharp edges gone. "What is wrong?" he asked. "Your text was so vague. I thought you were badly hurt. I was scared out of my mind."

Hadley looked up at Weston with tear-filled eyes, and her voice trembled. "I panicked," she said. "I did not think to write more."

His stern expression softened immediately. "What is going on?" he asked. "You are scaring me."

A blush spread across her cheeks as she stared at the floor, and her nails dug into her palms. "I am having a baby," she said.

I stood frozen in the doorway, and my face turned ghostly pale. A baby? But he had had a vasectomy. How the hell was this possible?

The memory hit me like a punch: the day I gave birth, Weston on his knees with red-rimmed eyes and a shaking voice.

"Baby, no more, never again," he had said. "Do you know how terrified I was?"

His words had been heavy with guilt. "You have been through enough for me. One child is plenty. I will not put you through that hell again."

He had even gone behind my back to get snipped.

So how could Hadley be carrying his child?

Before the shock fully registered, Weston pulled her into a tight embrace, and his voice grew thick with emotion. "Our baby is a gift from the gods," he murmured as he held her like she was his whole world. "You have made me the luckiest guy on earth."