Page 245

“You had already ended us, Ross.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“You made it very clear there was no future for us.”

“That was about our relationship.”

“It didn’t feel separate at the time,” she replies.

I stare at her.

“You found out you were carrying my children and decided I didn’t need to know?”

Blaire’s expression hardens.

“I made the decision I thought I had to make.”

“You made it for me.”

She goes still. The words hang between us because both of us know exactly what they mean.

I step closer and lower my voice.

“They are my family.”

Blaire looks straight at me, her voice quivering.

“They are my family.”

I look away for a second, jaw tight.

Seven Years.

That is the only thought I can hold onto without losing control completely. When I look back at her, my voice is low.

“We’re not doing this here.”

Blaire says nothing.

“I’m going to call you,” I tell her. “And you’re going to fucking answer. We need to talk.”

She looks at me for a long moment before nodding.

“Okay.”

I hold her gaze another second, then turn and walk away before the anger shows on my face.

I move through the reception without slowing. Someone steps toward me near the entrance, but I already have my phone in my hand pretending that I am on a call.

“Excuse me. I need to take this,” I say.

I keep walking.

By the time I reach the rental car, my pulse is still hammering. I get inside, close the door, and grip the steering wheel with both hands.

I don’t start the engine. For several seconds, I just sit there. The anger is still there, but beneath it is something colder: Shock.

I have children.