Chapter 2

Grayson lay back down beside me, and warmth radiated off him, but I still felt strangely cold.

I took a deep breath and spoke.

"Grayson, is there someone you can't let go of?"

His body went rigid for a second before he pulled me into his arms.

"What are you talking about? Did you have a dream?"

I pressed my hands against his chest and put some distance between us.

"I haven't been able to sleep. This question just came to me, and I want you to answer it."

Without a second's hesitation, he said in a low voice, "You're the one I can't let go of. Once we have kids, it'll be you and them."

It was the textbook answer, but not the one I wanted to hear.

In the dark, all I could make out was the blurred line of his jaw.

"You've been working a lot of late nights recently."

His chest rose and fell, and his arm tightened around me.

"We're launching a new project at work. It'll ease up once this push is over."

I pressed on. "When will that be?"

He sighed, a trace of exhaustion creeping into his voice. "It's the middle of the night. What are you getting so worked up about?"

"I just want to know the real reason," I said seriously. "How can we think about having a baby if we can't even sort this out?"

"What does this have to do with having a baby?" He pulled his arm away and rolled onto his back, his tone turning hard. "Isn't the answer obvious? You're the only one I have. The real reason I come home late from work is that I'm working to make money."

He sounded impatient. "And another thing. I don't want to come home after a full day of work and get interrogated by my own wife."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was too stunned.

Six years of marriage, and we'd never once raised our voices at each other.

This was the first time he'd ever spoken to me like that.

It was also the first time he'd been so stubborn about dodging a straight answer.

Talking to someone who didn't want to communicate—no matter what I said, it seemed to land wrong.

After a long silence, he turned over, putting distance between us.

"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."

I blinked and felt something warm slide down the corner of my eye.

Grayson had promised he'd never let me go to sleep upset. This was the first time he'd broken that promise.

The next day, he got up very early, like he was picking a fight on purpose, and left without a word.

I let it go. I still had some time before I needed to leave for work, so I went into his study.

If she were someone from his past, surely she'd left some trace behind.

His old belongings were kept in two cardboard boxes on the top shelf of his bookcase.

I pulled down the first box. The most eye-catching thing inside was a high school yearbook, wrapped thick in plastic.

Grayson clearly treasured it. Yet, he'd never told me a single word about it.

I went through the yellowed pages one by one.

Partway through, I noticed one page had a corner folded down, clearly turned to recently.

The name on that page was Vanessa Reed. The phone number written beside it was close to the one from that unfamiliar text I could barely recall.

She'd left Grayson a message in neat, graceful handwriting—clearly someone with a way with words.

As it turned out, they'd sat at the same desk for three full years.