Fat Cat Liar
That brief moment was enough to remind me of what I lost. Even with her scarf and hat covering most of her face, her eyes still remained haunted. She gave a small smile and that was it.
I type out a short text message, knowing she’ll see it and, as always, won’t respond.
Baby, you look incredibly beautiful. Congratulations on this special day.
My finger hovers over the send button, trying to think of something more romantic, poetic, or even apologetic to say. But my mind is blank.
I hate to admit it, but my creativity is drying out. Every morning and night, I try to call her but go straight to voicemail where I tell her over and over again how sorry I am and how much I love her. Each day, I have gifts delivered to her office and her dad’s penthouse with a personalized note. I’ve even resorted to classic poetry to try and convey how much she means to me.
While my methods may vary, my message is the same.
I’m not giving up on us.
Movement at the door catches my eye, startling me, and I press send on the message without adding something more personal.
“Fuckin’ A,” I hiss and slice my eyes to him. “Why can’t I get away from you? Aren’t you supposed to be at a celebration with the rest—”
His face twists at the term ‘celebration’, and my skin prickles at the way he stares at me, slipping his phone out of his suit jacket. “We need to talk.”
The way he says it gets my attention immediately. My stomach coils at the same time my blood runs cold. This is about Greer.
“Is she okay?”
He keeps walking until he’s right in front of me, unmistakable worry and trouble written all over his features.
“She seems okay, but I can’t say for sure. Out of respect, I kept my distance, stood on the other side of Dad while Kevin introduced the Morris Team. She was surrounded by her friends, but I made sure to have direct line of sight. While she was watching her dad give the speeches, I was studying her.”
“And?” His eyes flare in a way that I know something is wrong.
“She’s thinner, paler, and almost devoid of emotion. She clapped at the appropriate times, pasted on a fake smile when required, and looked on dutifully. When the snowflakes started, people started shifting, trying to stay warm, but she remained stoic. If possible, she looked a hundred times worse than when I saw her in her office weeks ago. It’s not good, Lawson.”
“Fuck.” My heart spasms in my chest, and my hands clench with the need to touch her.
“It gets worse. Something happened, something I think you need to sit down for.” He motions for a chair, but I’m cemented in place.
?
??Tell me.” I try to prepare myself for whatever he has to say that has him so freaked.
He holds up his phone, a picture of Greer standing between Enrique and Bessie on the screen.
“Do you notice anything different?”
“It’s snowing and the distance makes it hard to tell, why?”
“She peeked up, caught me staring, and locked eyes with me. Then her eyes welled with tears. The wounded expression on her face nearly knocked me back, but then my focus was interrupted. She slid her hand down to her stomach and sucked in a shaky breath.”
“Was she sick?”
“No. She wasn’t holding her stomach. She was cradling it. Her hand splayed protectively over her lower abdomen. As quickly as it happened, it was over and she snapped her head back to her dad. But I couldn’t pull my eyes away.” He pins me with his stare. “When I say she is thin, I mean she’s so thin, I could visibly make out the veins in her neck. But scanning down her body, where her hand rested, I swear I saw a swell. In the matter of a blink, she straightened and her coat was hanging loosely.”
“Are you saying… Did she look… Do you think…” My mouth can’t form the words, but my mind fills with images of Greer pregnant. I quickly calculate in my head.
It’s been almost six weeks since she left me—forty-one days to be exact. I don’t have a clue how a woman’s body develops with pregnancy, but if she even has a small swell, that would mean it didn’t happen the night she discovered my betrayal.
Did it?
Can a body shift that quickly?