The Child Who Changed Them (Parent Portal 5)

In years past, she’d have thought it was Retro waking her, going out through the doggy door that she seldom heard from her suite, but there was still no dog in the house. Number Two had already been adopted by the time she’d called to inquire about him. And she hadn’t yet settled on another.

Maya, the shelter volunteer, had suggested that she come in and meet all of the dogs—they were having an adoption day in another couple of weeks—and though she hadn’t told Greg about it yet, she figured that the suggestion was a good one. Planned to ask him if he wanted to come along.

She just hadn’t really seen much of him in the weeks since.

If he’d told his parents about the pregnancy yet, she didn’t know about it. And figured, since there was no sign of his mother, it hadn’t happened yet.

Cassie and Wood were getting tidbits of information when she stopped by on her way to work a couple of mornings a week, just to get a hug from Alan, as she’d been doing since the baby’s birth. They knew she wasn’t having any morning sickness, and that things were going fine with Greg living in the suite at the end of the hall.

And at work, she’d told her administrator that she was pregnant. Her techs knew, too, as she told them she would not perform a couple of procedures until after she gave birth—but she hadn’t said who the father was, and no one had asked. If Greg had said anything—and she assumed he’d at least have put in an address change with hospital HR—he hadn’t informed her whom he’d told, or what was said.

Funny how, now that they were sharing a house, she saw less of him than after she’d broken up with him.

He was working nights—a shift she knew he had to have volunteered for—and was generally sleeping, or out, when she was about. The times they ran into each other, he asked about her health, looked her over as though she was one of his patients, wondered if she needed anything, and that was it.

Their interaction at work was limited to business, as it had been since their breakup.

To the point that she was beginning to wonder why he was staying with her at all. And she knew that wasn’t fair, either. He was there for when the baby started to be active. When she started to get bigger. When she hit the eighteen-week mark and their baby began to hear sounds and would need to become familiar with his voice.

He’d left her a note at the twelve-week mark, on the notepad on the refrigerator—“Past the critical point”—with a check mark and a big smiley face.

She’d taken it down and tucked it in her satchel.

And hadn’t looked at it since.

But she knew it was there. Liked having it there.

And there...she heard a noise again. Not the dining room door—not Greg going out or coming from the pool—but...voices. She heard a voice. Higher than Greg’s. Female.

In her house.

He had a woman in her house?

She couldn’t make out words, or even sound for a bit, and then...there it was again, a faint hint of a female voice.

In her house!

Greg was dating someone.

Heart pounding, she told herself all the reasons why it didn’t matter. He had every right to have a relationship with someone else. But instead of finding calm, she wanted to curl up and cry.

Greg was with another woman.

He’d brought another woman to Elaina’s house and was doing...

She started to tremble.

Was his tongue leaving wisps of desire down her stomach? And...

Turning over, she pulled the pillow up to cover her ears.

The other woman wouldn’t have gotten naked yet, not if Elaina could hear them. It wasn’t like he’d be making out in her living room.

Or would he?

Realizing she was behaving like a juvenile, Elaina pulled the pillow off her head. Sat up.

Heard the low rumble of a male voice. Remembered how Greg would keep her engaged during his lovemaking with a softly spoken “You like that?” or “I want to...” or “You want to?” He’d never just moved on her, or with her; he’d talked them through it. Asking her before he did something new. And she’d found herself growing out of who she’d been with Peter, becoming someone more adventurous. Someone who allowed herself to take pleasure.