Page 72 of The Lies I Told
“She’ll be fine as soon as she lets this case go,” I said. “Nothing has ever come of Marisa’s questions during her short periods of clarity and sobriety. This time might seem different, but I’m realistic enough to know she’ll have another characteristic stumble.”
“You really think she’s that fragile?”
“Yes.” I didn’t mention it, but Marisa’s kind of failure kept men like Jack in business.
“What do you think? Richards is a pit bull.”
“I’ve made my own inquiries in the police department, and the case will turn cold the moment Richards retires. Nothing to worry about. The clock will run out on him.” I didn’t like talking aboutClare’s case for obvious reasons. I smiled. “I’ll send you my specs on the building.”
He leaned forward, kissed me on the cheek. He was a tempting creature. Being with him was akin to dancing on the knife’s edge. But I wasn’t going down that garden path again. “I’m looking forward to our next deal.”
“Me too.”
30
JO-JO
Thursday, March 17, 2022
1:00 p.m.
Fear rattled my nerves as I stared at the test strip that I’d peed on twenty minutes ago. I should’ve done this test when I first woke up this morning, but I’d been too nervous. Jack had lingered for a second cup of coffee, and I’d wanted to be alone when the results revealed themselves.
Jack and I had been trying to have a baby for a year now, and so far, no luck. He’d brought up the idea of us getting tested for fertility issues, but I wouldn’t hear of it. We’d only just started, I’d said. Didn’t want to turn sex into a chore. What was the rush?
Now as I sat in the bathroom and watched the test strip closely for a double set of blue lines, I panicked a little. He’d been the one who’d really wanted the baby. I’d been fine with just the two of us, but he was certain a baby would make us stronger. It might makeusstronger, butIwould be weaker. I’d be more vulnerable if he fell back to his old ways. Which, of course, he would not. He liked being legitimate, and he’d sworn he didn’t want to go back.
The bedroom door opened, footsteps crossed the room, and then a knock on the bathroom door startled me out of my trance. “Yes?”
“Let me in,” Jack said. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?” I considered hiding the stick in the trash so that he wouldn’t think I was silly. This was my third test this week.
“Babe. I saw the tests in your purse, and I’ll see it when I take out the trash.”
Rising, I opened the door, held the test behind my back. He stared down at me, a half grin on his face. He was supposed to be in a meeting with his attorney. Now he was home, and I felt as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
His hair was neatly combed, and he wore a collared shirt and sport jacket, which for him was formal wear. “What’s the verdict?”
I glanced at the test and saw the single line. Not pregnant. Relief washed over me. “It’s negative.”
His brows knotted. “Are you sure?”
I handed him the test. He glanced down, frowned, before he smiled again. “It could be wrong.”
“It’s supposed to be ninety-nine percent accurate.”
“One percent is one percent.”
“A long shot.”
“My life is a long shot.” He studied the test. “Aren’t you supposed to do these in the morning?”
“I suppose.”
He tossed the test in the trash and took my hands in his. “Don’t look so stressed. It’ll happen.”
Yes, it would. So why was I so fearful of it? “I know.”
