“Until you met him.” He points at the photo on the floor. “Is he the reason you pushed back our wedding? Is he why you don’t want kids with me? Were you hoping—?” He stops abruptly and she has no idea what he was about to say. She doesn’t want to know.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said, more sincere than she’s ever been with him.

“Us, Joy. You hurt us.” Mark sets down Judy’s box and walks out the front door.

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 27

BEFORE

Dylan

Litchfield, Illinois

Dylan woke the following morning with his arms around Joy, her backside against his stomach, and a vibration under his head. It tickled his ear.

He eased his arm from under Joy, careful not to wake her, and searched for her phone under the pillow. They’d fallen asleep in the gray hours before dawn whisper-singing along to eighties music videos on YouTube.

He didn’t remember drifting off. All he could comprehend right now was that he’d spent the most epic twenty-four hours with Joy, and that she was still in his arms. His entire body ached. Not complaining there. But it was a feat to move just an arm, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

Finding the phone, Dylan held the device above them. Mark’s mug glared down at him as the phone vibrated. Not the face he wanted to wake up to.

Joy moved languidly in his arms, and a vision filled him. He stands on the balcony of his new Malibu home, overlooking the ocean. Joy walks through the door, naked as she is now, and comes up behind him. Her arms wrap his waist. He can feel her breasts against his back. “Good morning,” she says, and presses a kiss to his spine. He feels it to his heels. He turns, taking her into his arms. “Morning, love,” he tells her before his mouth covers hers.

Dylan wanted more mornings like this one.

Joy’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on the phone above her in his hand. He felt the moment she saw who was calling. She stiffened. His eyes closed and an unsettled heaviness filled his chest. The vision faded from his mind.

Joy grasped his wrist with one hand and plucked the phone from him with her other. She bolted upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and answered the call. The bed suddenly felt cold.

“Hello?” Her voice croaked from exhaustion.

He’d made her that tired, Dylan thought, smug.

“I’m safe . . . I found a hotel until the storm passed . . . You did?” She glanced at Dylan over her shoulder but didn’t make eye contact. “I’m sorry, I should have called. We—I mean, I—Hold on.”