Rory sat frozen, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She hadn’t missed the way Sam had looked at her before leaving, his expression unreadable but pointed. Something about it had left her stomach churning more violently than before.
“Rory.”
Jim’s voice startled her, low and rough, dragging her out of her spiraling thoughts. She looked up, and his eyes pinned her in place.
“How far along?”
The question hit her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“I—what?” she finally stammered, though she knew exactly what he meant.
Jim didn’t repeat himself. His gaze was steady, relentless, the weight of his question filling the room.
Her hands tightened on the fabric of her skirt. “I don’t…”
“Does Sam know?”
His voice wasn’t accusing, ju
