Page 104 of After We Fall

Something warm slides over my skin, down my limbs, to the tips of my soul. That was kind of Meredith. Thoughtful.

“Speaking of. I can’t find Meredith anywhere, and she and Harlan are supposed to kick off the dancing in”—Claire glances at her phone—“fifteen minutes.”

“You can’t find her?”

“No. I think she got overwhelmed. She mumbled something to me about being right back.”

“Ah.”

“You know where she is?”

“I know this place pretty well. I have a few places to check.”

Luke curls himself into me, one arm around my waist, the other casually wrapped around my shoulders and holding his drink. He raises his eyebrows. “I’m done sharing you. You owe me a dance.”

“Can you please be patient for a few more minutes?”

“Three years, Penelope. I’ve been patient for three years.”

Holding on to one of his shoulders, I press onto my tiptoes and whisper into his ear, “I’m worth the wait.” When I draw back, his eyes flash.

“Are you flirting with me, Penelope Reid?”

“I don’t know how to flirt.” It’s the truth.

“As with everything you do, you seem to be holding your own.” He bends just a hair toward me, his words kissing my lips. “Excelling, even.”

I smile, the movement taking me a breath closer to his lips. “I was always good in school.”

He growls, shoulders shaking. “Again. Well done.”

I giggle, settling my weight back onto my heels. “I’ll just be a minute.”

After taking the escalator to the ground floor, I bypass the check-in desks. If I don’t find Meredith on this floor, I’ll call up to her room. But if I know Meredith, she’s searching for somewhere to purchase chocolate.

She’s not perusing pastries at Café Julie’s. The signature shop sells everything from beautiful Broadmoor paraphernalia to travel-sized aspirin to paperback vacation reads. Before I leave, I buy something sweet for her just in case I find her in need of a sugar fix.

I head to the lobby restroom. The stalls, plush little rooms stocked with various toiletry needs, are separated by thick walls and closed in with floor-to-ceiling solid wood doors. Upon entering, I catch a glimpse of the back of Meredith’s fabulous winter-white pantsuit. A clearance purchase from Nordstrom Rack worthy of a celebration—part New Year’s Eve, part wedding. Huddled in the corner of the small room, she focuses on something in her hand.

“Meredith?”

At the sound of her name, she jumps, turns around, and from the looks of it, tries to hide something behind her back. But in the move, she fumbles and hits the counter, causing her to drop the item.

We both crouch down to retrieve the item, but I get to it first. We freeze, staring at it.

Her terrified gaze lifts to mine, eyes glossy. “Penelope, you can’t . . . I don’t . . .”

My heart races, and I take in a calming breath. Not knowing Meredith and Harlan’s family plans, I can’t make any assumptions about her emotional reaction. But I sense something is wrong. I take her hands, rise, and pull her to stand. “What do you need, Meredith?”

She places a palm over her heart and skitters a glance around the restroom. “I don’t know.”

Thankfully, no one else occupies the luxurious room. This venue offers the maximum amount of privacy a patron can find in a public restroom.

Meredith bites her lip, and worry fills her face. “I’ve been so busy with adjusting to the life of a newlywed and stepmom and the holidays and getting ready for the party. On the way here, I was going over what I packed in my head and I realized I hadn’t packed feminine products, but then I realized I couldn’t tell you the last time I needed them.”

Turning, I peruse the offered amenities, grab a small plastic cup from the nearby mouthwash dispenser, and gently place it in her empty hand.

Her eyes move from the pregnancy test to the cup, then back to the test. “I bought it on my way here. I know it’s weird not to do this in my hotel room. But I want to know for sure before I talk to Harlan about it, and I didn’t want to risk him walking in. I need to know.”