Hizo una pregunta antes de que su tono cambiara por completo.
"Señora Harper... ¿eres hija del comisario Robert Sullivan?"
Y así, la situación se volvió mucho mayor que un coche destrozado.
Cuando llegué a casa, Derek estaba de pie en la habitación del bebé, fingiendo que pensaba en los colores de la pintura.
Eso casi me hizo reír.
La habitación era de un amarillo pálido, suave y cálida, llena de pequeñas cosas esperanzadoras que había elegido durante los últimos tres meses: estanterías en forma de nube, mantas dobladas con cuidado, una cuna blanca, estampados enmarcados de bebés sonrientes que claramente nunca habían conocido la realidad de los adultos humanos. Derek se quedó allí con las manos en los bolsillos como un hombre revisando un proyecto de reforma, no como un marido cuya amante acababa de aterrorizar a su esposa embarazada.
“How long?” I asked.
He turned slowly. “Elena, listen—”
“How long have you been sleeping with Brittany?”
His expression shifted—not to guilt, but to calculation. Derek always needed a moment to decide which version of himself to present. Regretful husband. Overworked businessman. Misunderstood man. Victim of his own choices. He chose remorse.
“Since January,” he said.
January.
I got pregnant in February.
That truth slid into my chest like broken glass. He had taken me to a mountain inn for Valentine’s weekend, held my face in both hands, told me he wanted a family with me—and all along, he had been sleeping with his assistant.
“You got me pregnant while cheating on me,” I said.
“It didn’t mean anything.”
Men always say that when the truth finally costs them something.
I looked around the nursery again and suddenly saw it for what it was: a set built on top of decay. He had helped choose none of it, cared about none of it, and still expected to stand at the center like he belonged.
When I told him Brittany had destroyed the car seat, his first reaction wasn’t horror. It was annoyance.
“She’s emotional,” he said. “I should have ended it more clearly.”
I stared at him. “She committed a felony while I was at my prenatal appointment.”
“I know that. I’m saying I can handle it.”
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