Page 31 of Rescued By Midnight

“Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?”

She sniffles. “The baby’s fine. I just want to talk to you. Do you have time?”

“Yes.” I hate that she’s crying, that she’s sad. Maybe she didn’t mean any of this, and she’s still my friend. I should be there for her.

“Can you meet me at my house?” she asks.

“No, I don’t have a car.” I finally get free of the sports bra, exhaling in relief while I search for my regular bra. “I can get downtown—can you meet there?”

“I guess so.” She sounds disappointed. “Are you sure you can’t make it to the Community?”

“I’m very sure.” Landon and Cody are at work, and although Landon hooked my phone up to his credit card for a ride app, I refuse to use it unless there’s an emergency.

As much as I used to consider Jericha my friend, her tears do not count as an emergency.

Especially after I learned she and Brayden got approval from the Elders for their pregnancy. They didn’t accidentally fall into love, seeking each other out for comfort in the aftermath of my kidnapping. This pregnancy was calculated, planned.

An aching, hollow feeling settles in my chest. I wasn’t important enough to mourn. Not to him, not to her.

And yet, I woke up to dozens of texts from Brayden. Some were sweet, reminding me of dates we went on when we first met. One was a copy of the Seven Blessed Days marriage vows, with the line about “holding fast and holding firm with love and respect” highlighted. I didn’t respect you, he added. I will never make that mistake again.

He added an old selfie of the two of us. He snapped the pic soon after our engagement, when we took a day trip to Mirarosa and hiked along the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Our arms are wrapped around each other in the picture, and although I’m looking at the camera, he’s staring at me with clear adoration in his eyes.

That was the Brayden I married. Can he come back to me?

The final text that came in the middle of the night read, I’m sorry for all that you’ve been through, and for the situation you came home to. I want to fix this, Alice. I shouldn’t have given up on you when you disappeared, and I hope you won’t give up on me.

I don’t even know what to think anymore.

“So you’ll meet me?” Jericha asks, interrupting my wandering thoughts. She sniffles, as if punctuating her emotional distress.

“Yeah.” We decide on a coffee shop and agree to meet in twenty minutes.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. She’s surely trying to get something out of me. Going to meet her is probably the stupidest thing I’ve done since I went running alone in Blackberry Park thirteen months ago.

Twenty minutes later, I walk into San Estebean. Jericha is already sitting at a table. Her maroon maternity shirt billows around her, and her brown hair is pulled up in a sleek bun. An herbal tea rests in front of her on the table, with a second one placed in front of the empty chair, presumably for me. Maybe I’m petty, but I don’t want to drink something she picked out for me. I order a coffee, paying with some cash Landon pushed into my hand yesterday “just in case you’re out alone and want a little treat.” I wait at the counter, trying to gather my resolve.

My iced latte is ready. I take it to Jericha’s table and carefully scoot aside the tea she got for me. It’s probably poisoned, anyway. I don’t trust her for a second.

She isn’t crying anymore. In fact, there’s no sign of tears on her face, no red-rimmed eyes or blotchy skin. Either she was never crying, or she recovered in record time. My money is on the former.

“So,” I say, “what is it?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time.” Her green eyes meet mine.

“Yes.” Which is why it hurt so bad that you slept with my husband.

“I know this must be hard for you.” She smiles down at her baby bump.

“How far along are you?”

She scrunches her button nose. “Oh, Brayden didn’t tell you?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Today marks thirty weeks.” She pats her stomach fondly.

I do some quick math. Almost eight months. This means she got pregnant when I’d been missing for about five months.