“You think it will never come up in the future? That she will not ever ask for curiosity’s sake? No, you are just scared to tell her. Scared she will leave you after she knows. The truth is that love is a lie, and you are just living in some made up fantasy that you can have this perfect life—go to work and come home to your little wife and two-point-five kids. One day, that bubble you’re living in is going to burst, and you’ll see that just because you ignore something doesn’t mean it goes away.”

Jared stands up toward the end of his little speech and storms off. I feel like I should be angry at him, but I am only left with a gnawing sense of guilt. He was right; it is not something I could just ignore and hope never coming up somewhere down the line. Nor is it right of me to keep it from her. I love Brooke, and if I respected her at all, I would tell her.

I would have to wait until her health is a little better. Promising myself I would tell her in a few weeks, I dispose of our cups and head back up to my wife. Sonia and she should have had plenty of time to catch up, and I feel like I had as big a handle on my emotions as I am going to get. I take the stairs like a coward, giving myself a little more time to force down my guilt.

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

Lazy Day

Brooke

Cahal snuggling into me is the most wonderful feeling in the world. The second Landon set him in my arms, the rest of the world melted away—the pain in my abdomen from my surgery, the uncomfortable bed in the hospital—all of it. I am so lost in my adoration for him I do not even realize that Landon has left the room.

When I finally look up, I am met with a glare walking the line between angry and resigned. I clear my throat awkwardly, knowing I deserve whatever anger she throws my way.

“Did you have a good flight?” I ask lamely. Sonia quirks an eyebrow at me. “Did Cahal fly well? I hope his ears didn’t hurt,” I continue my awkward attempt at conversation.

“I’m mad at you, Brooke,” Sonia bluntly states.

I nod my head ashamedly. “I know.”

“How could you make me promise not to tell anyone where you were when you came here to die!”

I can hear the strain in her voice as she tries to control her volume. “I’m sorry.” I do not insult her by making excuses.