She dabbed at her eyes. Stupid hormones. If there was one thing she’d learned growing up, it was how to keep her emotions on lockdown to avoid getting into trouble. But suddenly she was pregnant and hiding and she couldn’t keep her stupid eyes from watering stupidly. Gah.
Besides, there was no need to get teary now. She had a long way to go before tea parties and sports. She had to start being this new, improved woman before the baby got here and it wasn’t likely to happen in the bathroom. She needed something to eat and... Well, food first. Plans second.
Quietly, she made her way downstairs, listening hard for the sounds of people. A low hum seemed to be coming out of Oliver’s study. He was talking to someone, she realized—probably on the phone. A wave of relief swept over her. He’d made a promise to her and he’d kept it—even if it was an inconsequential promise to hang around for a few hours. He’d still kept it.
Guilt wasn’t far behind. She’d pulled him away from a workday. He was probably trying to get caught up. She shouldn’t interrupt him. He’d said the kitchen was in the back of the house, right? She should go.
But then, in a voice that was more of a shout than a whisper, Oliver clearly said, “You are, without a doubt, the most vile, abhorrent, morally bankrupt idiot I have ever had the misfortune to know and that’s saying something. You know that, right? I mean, what the hell were you thinking, Clint?”
Renee stumbled to a stop. Eavesdropping was not exactly on the moral up-and-up, but was he talking to her brother? How the hell had he pulled that off?
She moved to stand just on the other side of the door to his study. There were some pictures here, so she pretended to look at them. But really, her entire attention was focused on one half of the phone conversation happening in the next room.
“Yeah, she’s here. What the hell, man? You send me a one-line email with no other explanation, no other context—no, I didn’t know your entire family had crashed and burned. I’m busy!” This time, he was shouting. “I have my own family to manage, my own business to run—a business that does not steal money from investors! So you’ll excuse me if I haven’t kept up with all the ways you’ve destroyed your life!”
A wave of nausea roiled her stomach and she didn’t think it was morning sickness.
“No, I know.” He said this in a weary voice, and Renee honestly couldn’t tell if it was better or worse than him shouting. “Yeah, she told me. How could you let her marry someone like that?”
Renee bristled. Her brother was not her keeper. She was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions and her own mistakes, thank you very much.
That, however, hadn’t stopped her from wondering the exact same thing a hundred times over the last few months. Clint had known who Chet was. They’d both worked for her father for several years before the wedding. And yet her own brother had done nothing to warn her that she was marrying a serial cheater and a con artist.
It was hard not to be bitter when there was so much to be bitter about. Growing up, she and Clint had stuck together. So much of her childhood had been the kids against the parents. Even when they’d fought—and they had fought—they’d still protected each other from the icy punishment of their mother and the casual neglect of their father.
But when she’d really needed her brother, he hadn’t been there for her.
Instead, it was Oliver who was mad on her behalf. Oliver who was defending her.
“That’s a shitty excuse and you know it,” Oliver snapped. “She trusted you. Your investors trusted you. Hell, I trusted you. And you did nothing to earn it...No, I’m not going to take it out on her. I’m not a monster, unlike some people I know...Yes,” he said, sounding defeated. “She did? I thought you two were going to go the distance. But I guess she couldn’t live being married to a snake oil salesman.” Another pause. “Renee really didn’t know, did she?...I didn’t think so. Look, I said I’d take care of her and I meant it. Enjoy your time in jail, buddy.”
Renee sagged against the door frame as relief pushed back against the nausea. Oliver believed she hadn’t been a part of the scheme. He understood, at least on some level, how badly the betrayal by her family had hurt her.
She shouldn’t have come here. She shouldn’t have listened to the phone call, either. She didn’t want to put Oliver at risk for being a decent human being to an old friend and she didn’t want to put either of them in a position where he felt like he had to lie to her.
But she was so glad she was here.
“Renee? Will you come in here?”
She jumped, her heart racing. Had he known she was listening the entire time? Oh, heavens. Busted.
She swallowed and felt her face go pleasantly blank, felt her shoulders square up and her chin lift. The reactions were hard-wired at this point and she was helpless to stop them.
With one final deep breath for courage, she stepped into the study.
And stumbled to a stop.
Oliver was leaning against his desk, his ankles crossed and his arms folded in front of his chest. He looked very much like he had earlier—had it only been this morning?
But the differences. Oh, the differences! He’d lost his suit
