The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh
Sixty-Six
Saylor
I haven’t touched alcohol since I got pregnant but after Frankie leaves my house I pour myself a glass of wine and barely make it to the sofa before I collapse, my legs wobbling as much as my resolve to keep this farce going.
Now that Frankie knows the truth, I’ve lost my leverage. I can’t hold the baby’s paternity over Andre any longer. Even though I don’t know he’s the father for sure, I haven’t told him that. The threat of exposing his one-night stand with me and the resultant pregnancy to his wife had been enough to ensure he’d pay up to buy my silence. Or so I thought.
I stare at the wine, a rich red from Napa, and swirl it around and around, craving a sip but worrying I’ll hurt the baby. I may be a horrible person but the bigger my belly gets, and the more kicks I feel, the more protective I become. I never wanted a child so soon. I can barely look after myself let alone a baby and the responsibility is enormous. And now… I’ll have to tell Lloyd everything. He needs to hear it from me before my blackmailer tells the world and my husband’s and parents’ lives are ruined. I owe him that much.
I hear a key in the door and I push up into a sitting position. He isn’t due home until tomorrow and I’d been counting on that time to compose myself, to try and come up with a way to tell him that doesn’t make me look like a monster.
As the door swings open and he catches sight of me, his lips easing into a grin, I burst into tears.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He closes the door, drops his wheelie suitcase in the hallway and rushes to comfort me. “Not quite the greeting I expect when I come home early from my trip as a surprise for my expectant wife.”
I can’t speak past the lump in my throat and he bundles me into his arms, only pausing to take the wine glass from my hand and place it on the coffee table, one eyebrow raised before he pulls me close.
I sob my heart out, my eyes stinging and my nose clogged until I can barely breathe. He still holds me, smoothing my back, pressing his cheek to the top of my head, and his consideration makes me cry harder.
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” he murmurs, easing me away, concern creasing his brow as he pushes my hair out of my face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Everything,” I say, punctuated by a hiccup, and I’m surprised when the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement.
“At the risk of you hitting me, you sure this isn’t the result of a hormonal surge?” He pretends to duck. “And you’re making a catastrophe out of something small?”
If only.
I scoot away from him, needing to establish some distance between us if I’m to tell him the truth. I need to see the disgust on his face, to see him recoil from me, to reinforce how badly I’ve hurt this caring human being.
Lloyd is nothing like Ruston and Andre. He would never cheat or lie or take advantage of anyone. He wouldn’t obsess over an ex or marry an upstanding person on the rebound. He wouldn’t have a one-night stand and lie to his partner about everything.
How can I tell him any of this?
He’ll never understand.
I’m almost as afraid of his reaction as I am of what the blackmailer’s going to do when I tell him I can’t pay him. I’ll have to warn my folks, see the confusion morph into derision in their eyes when they realize what kind of daughter they have. Worse, watch them lose everything they’ve spent a lifetime building: a thriving church in several cities, the devotion of their followers, the respect of a community. It’s gut-wrenching.
“You’re scaring me.” He reaches for my hand and I snatch it away, earning another raised eyebrow.
“I’ve been lying to you from the start,” I say in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves, harsh in the silence of the room. “Lying about our relationship, the baby, why I wanted to move here, all of it.”
My breath hitches as I wait for his reaction and I wrap my arms across my belly. I can’t do much to save myself but I can protect my unborn child.
His expression is eerily blank, his eyes glassy.
“Did you hear me? You, me, this baby? All of it is a lie.”
That’s when the oddest thing happens. He shrugs, like my deception hasn’t torn our world apart.
“I know,” he says, his flat tone as scary as the strange smile on his face.
“How—”
“Because I’m the person blackmailing you.”