years.”
Rowan actually laughed.
“See? Mom gets it,” he said. “Call a cab.”
Something inside me went still.
The fear remained. So did the pain. But the part of me still begging my husband to choose me disappeared.
“All right,” I whispered. “Enjoy the cake.”
Then I called the one person I had deliberately avoided calling for almost two years.
My father.
“Dad,” I managed when he answered.
He heard one unsteady breath before his tone changed.
“Where are you?”
Twenty minutes later, Gideon Sterling entered the hospital wearing an
