Roman Tate had ruined her life.
“I didn’t know the question was so complicated.” The cop cleared his throat. “I’m looking for a date, ballpark if that’s the best you can do.”
“Of course it’s complicated,” Penny snapped.
But when had their relationship truly ramped up to new highs? Penny was beginning to think it hadn’t been that day in his office after all. It had probably been the first time they’d seen each other outside the studio, a date disguised as a business dinner. They’d ordered wine, lingered. He’d picked up the check, walked her to her car. Penny closed her eyes, recalling the way his thumb had traced down her cheek in a playful, seductive goodbye.
Her skin burned. Then her eyes flashed open, her cheeks on fire.
“Are you feeling all right?” the cop asked. “Can I get you more water?”
“I’m fine,” Penny said. “Give me a minute. I’m not sure on the exact date.”
That wasn’t entirely true, however. Penny did know the exact date. At least she knew the date of the obvious start of their personal relationship. The first time they’d had sex.
Sick with memories, Penny leaned against the desk, pushing thoughts of damp sheets and pleasured cries out of her mind. “The summer of last year. July or August. Is that good enough?”
The officer jotted another phrase onto his notepad. “When did you discover that Mr. Tate wasn’t actually separated from his wife? And had no plans of doing so?”
Penny’s lips thinned. “We went over this the first time you questioned me.”
“At that time, we hadn’t found enough evidence to arrest anyone in conjunction with Mr. Tate’s death,” the detective said with a coy twitch of his lips. “That has since changed.”
“So you say,” Penny said with a snort. “But then you tell me your best guess is Eliza. She didn’t do it.”
“Did Eliza love Roman?”
“Yes,” Penny said. “At least at some point.”
“Are you aware that we suspect Eliza and Roman’s marriage was a fraud from the start?”
“What?”
“Eliza Tate’s visa was due to expire three weeks after she married him. Did Roman ever mention the fact that he’d married Eliza only to grant her citizenship?”
Penny looked at her hands. “Not really.”
“Did he tell you what suddenly changed in his relationship, then?” The cop clicked his pen on and off, on and off. “Why he was suddenly going to divorce his wife after all these years?”
Penny stared at him. Watched the click click click until finally he got the picture and stopped.
“He said he was getting older and realizing that life was too short to remain unhappy.”
“Eliza made him unhappy?”
“He said he stayed with Eliza because it was easy. They were comfortable together. But he wanted to find the one true love of his life.”
“And I suppose you thought he was talking about you?” The cop clicked the pen once, but at the look on Penny’s face, he halted abruptly. “You being the love of his life, I mean?”
“I’m not an idiot.” Penny glanced at the table, feeling the color crawl up her neck. “I know this sounds stupid to you, but it’s more complicated than you can ever know.”
“Did you love Roman?”
“Look, I thought I did, but I was wrong. Now, is there anything else?” Penny winced as a wayward baby heel poked her in the ribs. She carefully dug a finger into her belly, easing him into a gentler position.
“Can I get you anything else, Ms. Sands?” he asked. “If you’re in need of a break, we can always pause for a moment.”
“I’d rather finish up and go home.”
“Then I’ll make this brief.” The detective bowed his head and pulled his notes closer. “I’d like to go over your timeline once more. You met Mr. Tate last summer in June. Sometime in July or August, you began to see him romantically.”
Penny stared back as he looked up at her questioningly.
“When did you…” He cleared his throat. “When was your child conceived?”
“Sometime in July.”
“Around the time you began seeing Mr. Tate.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Does Mrs. Tate know you’re pregnant?”
“It’s pretty hard to miss, don’t you think?” Penny shifted her bulk. “I’ve been friends with Eliza since Marguerite Hill’s launch party at the Pelican Hotel.”
“Tell me more about the party.”
“How is that relevant to the investigation?”
“Were you there on the invitation of Eliza Tate?”
“No,” Penny said. “Roman invited me.”
“When did you more formally befriend Eliza?”
“A few months later, I guess. She asked me to be part of her book club.”
“Let me get this straight: you agreed to be in a book club with your lover’s wife?”
“I hadn’t realized it was an affair. I already told you that. Roman said he was on good terms with his wife…or soon-to-be ex-wife.”
“When did you find out that Mr. Tate had no intention of separating from his wife?”
“I still don’t know that. Maybe he did intend to separate from Eliza. How should I know what really went on in Roman’s head? I only know what he told me, and he sure as hell didn’t tell me the truth.”
“Do you—”
“Shit.” Penny glanced down, resting a hand on her swollen belly. “I think that was a contraction.”
The detective’s head shot up so hard, Penny heard his neck crack. He stared at her, alarmed. “Should I call someone?”
Penny crunched forward, gripping the table until her knuckles turned a ghastly white. “I think I’m going into labor.”
“Let me drive you to the hospital.”
“I can drive myself, thanks.”
“Ms. Sands…” The detective stood, made his way around the table, and helped Penny from her chair. “I have one last question for you. Is Mr. Tate the father of your child?”
Penny pulled her arm from the detective’s grasp. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I mean,” Penny said, her voice pinched and tight, “I had sex with more than one man during my fertile window. I don’t know that I can spell it out any more clearly.”
“I’ll need the name—”
Penny cut him off with a groan. “It doesn’t matter who the father is. This baby is mine—end of story. Now, Detective, I really need to get to the hospital.”
“I’ll call you an ambulance. It’s too dangerous for you to drive yourself.”
The second the cop left her side, Penny helped herself right out of the room. She didn’t look behind her as she exited the building and made her way to her car before the detective could return.
As Penny drove, she turned on the radio and hummed along. Whether the baby belonged to Ryan or Roman was irrelevant. Both were out of her life for good. Roman a little more permanently than Ryan.