“That’s great news,” Jon says, patting Slade on the back. “I remember Catrine used to get dizzy early on. Juice usually helped.”
“I’ll take her to the kitchen to get some juice,” Catrine says, handing the baby to her husband. Slade uses his free hand to help me up, guiding me down the stairs where Catrine takes over, leading me into the kitchen.
She opens the refrigerator door. “Last time I was in here, your water broke,” I say.
She pours me some juice, placing it in front of me, clearly in no mood for a trip down memory lane. “Did you do this on purpose?” she asks.
“Do what? Almost faint?”
“No,” she says. “Did you get pregnant on purpose to trap him?”
That’s the last straw. I get to my feet, my head still cloudy. “I thought we were friends.”
She draws a deep breath. “I don’t want to think these things about you,” she says. “But you have to tell me what’s going on. Because something is off with you.”
“I don’t have to tell you a damn thing,” I say, thinking I should tell Slade what she said about me getting pregnant on purpose. That would discredit her forever in his eyes, but I can’t do it. It would destroy his relationship with Jon, threaten their business, and I don’t want to hurt Slade. I’m doing my best not to.
CHAPTER FORTY
SLADE
I hold up the strip of black and white pictures. Paige is only about six weeks pregnant, but we still saw the flutter of a little heartbeat. Not much else, but the lump in my throat tells a different story. This little gray kidney bean will change my life. I don’t know that I’ve ever believed in miracles until this moment. This little blob in the ultrasound picture is going to grow up to be an adult. How can anyone not believe in miracles when you are in fact a miracle yourself?
Glancing down at Finn in his car seat, it’s hard to believe that he started out like this, too. I wish I’d been there for him and for Paige.
A hand slaps my shoulder, the doctor taking a seat behind his desk. He’s an older guy, looks like he’s been doing this a long time. That puts my heart at ease. I only want the best care for Paige and our child. “Paige is just doing some initial blood work and leaving a urine sample. She’ll be right in.”
“Great,” I say.
“I like to make sure I meet with my first-time moms. They tend to have a lot of questions,” he says.
“This isn’t her first pregnancy,” I say, taking Finn from his car seat. “This is Finn.”
“Right, oh, I’m sorry,” he says, looking at her chart. “She’s a relatively new patient for me. I’ve just seen her a couple of times. I didn’t deliver this little guy,” he says, shaking Finn’s hand.
“He was a home birth,” I say.
His brow wrinkles up, continuing to look at her chart. “Must be some mistake. Her medical history shows no prior pregnancies, no live births, no miscarriages.”
“Must have the wrong chart,” I say.
A nurse sticks her head in, and he gets to his feet. “Excuse me for a few moments.”
I might be committing a felony, but as soon as he walks out, I swipe the chart from his desk. Her name is in bold letters. It’s her chart. Her first ultrasound, examination, notes on her office visits, everything looks normal until I get to her medical history form. Plain as day, in her own handwriting, where it asks about prior pregnancies, she checked none.
My hand goes through my hair. I look down at Finn in my lap. This can’t be right. I pull out my phone, my lock screen set to a photo of Paige holding Finn. There is definitely a resemblance between them, the same nose. I still have no idea who his biological father is. Apparently, there’s a lot I don’t know.
“What’s going on?” I ask Finn, but he just smiles up at me. Love this kid.
This has to just be some oversight. I mean, when you go to the doctor, they give you dozens of forms to fill out, and perhaps she just overlooked it and checked the wrong box. But wouldn’t her doctor be able to tell if she’d been pregnant before when he did an examination? Wouldn’t he have asked her a bunch of questions himself, and noticed the mistake and corrected it?
Quickly, I search online whether a doctor can tell if a woman has ever been pregnant. Leave it to Google to have the answer. Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s ever asked this question. Much to my disgust, there are actual pictures of how a doctor can tell. I’ll leave out the gory details. Let’s just say the cervix of a woman who’s given birth looks different than a woman who hasn’t.
“Slade,” I hear Paige say softly. Quickly, I hold up the ultrasound pictures and toss the file aside. She glances at me, looking scared to death, but there is something else in her eyes—a resolve. I’ve seen this look from her before, several times, beginning with the night we met. A thick silence fills the space between us, and if one of us doesn’t say something soon, I fear it will push her away from me.
When someone’s caught in a lie, they tend to do one of two things. Either they fess up, or they fight like hell to get out of the corner they’re blocked in. I’ve seen this happen with employees countless times. From the look in her eyes, I know if I confront her now, I’m in for a fight. Better to let her think I’m still in the dark.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
SLADE
I need some answers, and clearly, I’m not going to get any from Paige.
“Hey,” Jon says, walking into my office with his briefcase. “What’s up?”
“I need you to do something for me. This can go no further than you. Understand?”
“Sure,” he says. “What is it?”
“Paige,” I say, feeling like I’m breaking a vow to her. “I think she’s hiding something. I don’t know what, and she won’t tell me.”
He holds his hand up, putting me out of my misery, then he takes a seat across from me, pulling an envelope out of his briefcase, Paige’s name at the top. “Ran a background check on her the morning after your dad’s party.”
My eyes dart up. Anger boils in my chest. What the fuck? “I never asked you to do that.”
“No, you didn’t,” he says, tossing the file down on my desk. “But I’ve always got your back, whether you want me to or not.”
I hold the envelope, conflicted. I debated doing a background check on Paige myself but didn’t want to invade her privacy. I wanted to give her the chance to tell me herself. Things have changed. She’s left me no choice. If she gets pissed, I’ll blame Jon. “And?”
“And nothing,” he says. “From what I can tell, she’s telling the truth. Grew up in and out of the system. Rough childhood. Her mom died a couple of months back from an overdose. Paige’s test scores are off the chart. She’s smart as hell. Dropped out of college about eight months ago, which corresponds with Finn’s birth.”
“So you found nothing,” I say.
“Initially,” he says. “That’s why I never said anything when you moved her into your house. But then the night of the baptism after you left, Catrine told me she thought something was off about Paige. So I did a little more digging.”