My stomach churned, and I knew it wasn't morning sickness. I heard myself saying the words aloud. "Was it more than the one time?"
"No. That part was true. I mean I wasn't honest about when it happened." He leaned forward, almost putting his head between his knees, so that he was no longer looking at me. "Why we had to move."
I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable.
What sordid tale would Drake tell? A female supervisor who had seduced and blackmailed him? Or a jaded ex-lover who'd returned to try to win him back? Maybe it was a crazy stranger at the erotic club in Chicago who had been stalking him?
All immature—and not exactly valid—reasons, in my opinion, to tuck his tail and run to another state.
Drake still wouldn't look up at me. "Do you remember my bachelor party?"
"Yes."
I recalled that he'd refused Malcolm's offer to go out and celebrate that rite of passage. Just as I had when Becca asked me. But his coworkers had insisted. They'd surprised him. I'd assumed it had just been a bunch of grown men drinking beer. No harm done except a few hangovers.
I snorted softly. Yeah, like I was one to talk. Look how my impromptu, belated party had turned out.
"It was just supposed to be wings and beer at a sports bar after work," Drake elaborated. "We were supposed to go back to Brad's house for cards. But they took me to a strip club instead. And then a night club. I had too much to drink."
I swallowed heavily. I'd upbraided him at the time for being out all night without calling me. He hadn't wanted to have sex for a couple of days after that. Gave no explanation why. It hadn't been like him. But I'd chalked it up to wedding jitters and pushed it out of my memory. Until now.
That sick feeling was working its way up from my stomach.
"I woke up the next morning in a strange bed. With a blonde." He waved his hand absentmindedly as if that explained what they were doing there. Like I had to guess. "I had vague memories of strippers, drinking, and dancing. Just no recollection of coming home with her."
Darryl cleared his throat. "Are you sure you—"
"Oh, yeah." Drake was shook his head. I wondered if he was trying to erase the memory, like you did with an Etch A Sketch. "Even if we hadn't done anything the night before, she was on top of me—"
"We get it," Becca said, her voice more snarl than not.
I couldn't breathe. I did the math. He'd cheated on me three weeks before we'd gotten married?
He finally looked up, but he lowered his head almost immediately once his gaze locked with mine. Had he seen the fire raging in my eyes? He opened his mouth but closed it again.
"Spit it out, Drake." I hissed my own words at him, wondering if they'd used protection. "No more secrets, right?"
Malcolm snorted. "Unless you got her pregnant—"
"She claimed I did."
Oh, God. My chest was on fire.
"She told me at the dinner party."
"She was there?" I was on my feet now.
Mr. Murdoch, his boss and the CEO of the company, had thrown a surprise dinner party for our wedding. Very elaborate. Regal, even. I'd enjoyed the temporary pampering. But now...
He nodded. "Brooke—"
"Wait!" I pressed my hand to my breastbone. Was the room spinning? "As in Brooke Murdoch? You drunk-fucked your boss's step-daughter?"
Drake seemed to shrink further into the seat of his chair as I attempted a wobbly step toward him. "I didn't know who she was at the time. I just found out that night."
"She gave me the Tiffany bracelet I used as my 'something blue.' God dammit, Drake! You should have told me!"
"I know! I know!"
The room was quiet for a long moment. I tried to catch my breath. To collect my thoughts.
I managed another step forward, ignoring Darryl's raised hand as if he were signaling me to proceed with caution. "I get that you cheated on me. I don't have to like it, but it happened. We can't change that. And in a strange way, I can see how your guilt made you so paranoid you tried to prevent even me from getting pregnant. But, Drake, there is something I just don't understand."
He snapped his head up. "What?"
"Why the fuck did we move?"
He flinched at my growl. Licked his lips a couple of times.
"Mr. Murdoch confronted me the Monday morning after the party. Brooke had told him about us. He threatened to fire me when I said I wouldn't support her. I countered that I'd sue for wrongful termination. There was a lot of yelling. Accusations and threats. In the end, we agreed I would stay on but transfer out west. If the baby was mine, my raise would cover child support. If not, it would be compensation for my troubles. Any embarrassment."
He'd told me about his promotion that night at dinner. Our need to move. I hadn't thought I could be in more shock. Then he'd come clean about his infidelity. I had been devastated, to put it mildly. But he'd apologized and I'd forgiven him.
All this time, though, I'd expected it had been something he'd been mulling over for months. A year even. Not a few weeks.
He hadn't explained any further last winter, just that the transfer was good news for us. That he knew it would be hard for me to relocate, but we'd be together and we could manage. Plus we'd always have Malcolm and Becca to support us, no matter where we were.
So
