Chapter 3

Then I smelled cigarette smoke drifting through the air.

Marissa had lit a cigarette. Pregnant or not, she was smoking.

She let out an amused little laugh.

"Your best friend's wife is supposed to be off-limits. Is the guilt what turns you on?"

Elliot's voice was husky.

"Your body's already changing for the baby. I like it."

Marissa laughed low, with a nasty edge.

"Gideon is a true gentleman, and you're the lowest kind of trash. Keeping you around like a pet dog is fun enough. Just one rule: this never reaches Gideon. Understand?"

Elliot scoffed.

"I won't let him find out about us."

Then Marissa sighed softly, and there was something sincere in her voice.

"If it were any other man, I'd know how to deal with him. But you're the friend Gideon cares about most. If I got rid of you, he'd be heartbroken..."

Maybe it was Marissa's so-called heartfelt confession, or maybe the smoke in the stairwell was too thick, but I turned my head and threw up.

For a moment, I honestly couldn't tell whether Marissa loved me or not.

If she didn't love me, why did every word she said protect me?

But if she did, how could she sleep with another man so easily?

And that man was my best friend...

A passing nurse caught me by the arm.

"Sir, are you okay?"

I waved her off.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"But you look really unwell. Is there anything I can do for you?"

I thought for a moment.

"My wife just had an amniocentesis. Are the results back yet?"

"Not that fast. It'll be about another half hour."

"Could I add one more test?"

The nurse nodded.

"Sure. What would you like to add?"

"I want to know the baby's blood type. Whether it takes after me or my wife."

The nurse nodded again.

"Of course. Give me a moment."

The result came back soon after.

"Sir, the baby is type B."

I froze.

The world had a dark sense of humor.

Marissa was type A, and I was type O. How could we have a type-B baby?

And Elliot—he was type B.

I'd already known the answer in my heart.

But when the naked truth was laid out right in front of me, it still hit me like a bolt of lightning.

...

An hour later, I'd thrown up until there was nothing left but bile, and my mouth was bitter.

When I stepped out of the restroom, someone not far away shouted in relief.

"Mr. Whitaker! It's Mr. Whitaker! We found him! Go tell Ms. Langford!"

Before I could react, a small, warm body wrapped itself around me.

Marissa held me tight, her voice trembling.

"Gideon, where did you go? You scared me to death!"

I looked up and saw that the hospital, which should have been full of nurses and doctors in white, was now full of men in black suits.

They all stood behind Marissa with their heads respectfully bowed.

But when I looked around, Elliot was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Elliot."

Marissa was still frowning, checking me over from head to toe.

Only when she saw I was in one piece did she finally relax.

She let out a heavy breath and pulled me into her arms again.

"I had someone take him home first. What about you? Weren't you just going to buy water? I had people search every convenience store and café nearby, and nobody could find you."

I could still smell faint traces of smoke on her.

"Did you smoke?"

Marissa froze for a second, then denied it.

"Gideon, you know I never smoke."

"You smell like smoke."

"...Maybe I picked it up from someone who was smoking."

I nodded.

"Okay."

Marissa, you're still lying to me.

Suddenly she frowned. Her dry palm had found the cold sweat on my forehead.

The nurse had told me the vomiting was nervous, brought on by extreme emotional stress.

I'd been throwing up in the restroom for over an hour, and my clothes were soaked through with sweat.

I pushed away the small hand wiping my forehead and frowned.

"I'm fine. You like coconut lattes, and there's no coffee shop nearby, so I ran a bit to get you one and worked up a sweat."

Marissa's eyes filled with worry. She pulled the softest part of her shirt's inner lining out and gently dabbed the sweat from my forehead.

"You silly thing. You ran off that far without a word. Do you know how much you scared me?"

One of the men in black chimed in.

"That's right, Mr. Whitaker. Ms. Langford was afraid something had happened to you. She nearly turned the whole hospital upside down."

Another added, "Thank goodness you're okay, Mr. Whitaker. Ms. Langford almost called the police."

Just then, Marissa felt the report I'd been clutching in my hand the whole time.

She pried my fingers open, saw it was a prenatal test report, and instantly went on guard.

"Gideon, did you check the baby's blood type?"