“Are you happy about this baby?” she whispers.
The question undoes me. A tear slips free, and I shake my head, then nod, then shake it again, my throat raw. Finally, the truth tumbles out, cracked and fragile. “I think I am. I’m having Declan Agassi’s baby.”
Eslin pulls out of our embrace and I remember she had something to tell me, too. “Hey! Didn’t you say you had something to talk to me about?”
She goes stiff. “Uh. Um. I…Let’s just save my news for later.”
“Eslin, back at the school it seemed important. Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
She nods. “I do. But, today, let’s just keep this about you, for now. I want to know how you’re going to tell Declan he’s going to be a daddy!”
Eslin
A baby.
The word circles my brain like a storm cloud. Thank goodness Grant sent a car for me because I don’t think I can focus enough to follow directions right now.
I thought keeping what I had with Grant from Marlow was already unbearable, but this…this is something else. Something fragile. Something that can’t be risked.
If I pushed her too hard, if I told her about me and Grant now, would it shatter her? Would it put too much stress on her, on the baby? I can’t do that. I won’t. So, I tell myself—just a little longer. Just until she finds her footing. Just until she’s ready.
The road to Lake Oconee unwinds before me, two narrow lanes flanked by tall Georgia pines that stretch toward the winter sky. Their branches sway in the breeze, whispering secrets of their own, and I can’t help but feel like they’re mocking me. Closer to the lake, the land opens wide. Expanses of water glint silver beneath the fading light, dotted with docks and the silhouettes of cabinsmixed with luxurious estates nestled in the trees. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. The kind of place that should quiet a racing mind. But mine refuses to still.
Because all I can think about are the secrets stacked inside me: Marlow’s marriage to Declan. Her pregnancy. My affair—my love—with Grant.
Secrets and lies, each one heavier than the last. And now I’m heading toward the one place that feels like release: his cabin. His arms. The man who makes me laugh until I can’t breathe, who touches me like I’m something precious instead of someone drowning in guilt.
I lean my head back against the seat and sigh just as the lake comes into full view, whispering to myself like a prayer:Just a little longer, Eslin. Hold it together just a little longer.
Chapter fifty-four
Pines & Promises
Grant
Iwanted this weekend to mean something. To show her that even if the world outside is clawing at us with its secrets, with its damn scandals, here—at the lake house—she is safe. So I came up early, made sure everything was ready, and sent the car to get her once she finished with Marlow.
The lake house isn't a simple cabin—it’s three wings of luxury sprawled along the edge of Lake Oconee, built like a fortress dressed up in wood and stone. One wing belongs to Will, one to Xavier, and the other—mine. Floor-to-ceiling windows that stare out over the glassy water. A great room with vaulted ceilings and a stone fireplace tall enough to climb. Every detail is meant to feel both wild and indulgent, like the three of us wanted to stake our claim on the world and carve out a retreat no onecould touch.
And even though it cost us an obscene amount of money to build this place, there’s a peace here that money can’t buy—a quiet that settles into your bones, that makes the world outside feel a thousand miles away.
But right now, even with the fire crackling and the candles I set out flickering low across the room, I can’t stop pacing. Can’t stop checking my phone, waiting for Marlow’s name, or hers. Something. Anything. But the screen stays dark.
When the car finally pulls up, I nearly bolt for the door. And when Eslin walks in, frantic energy buzzing off her like static, the first thing she does is grab the glass out of my hand and down it in one gulp.
“Jesus, Es,” I say, watching her chest rise and fall as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Did you tell her?”
Her eyes are wild, too bright. “It didn’t come up,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Not tonight.”
“Then I’ll call her—”
“No!” Her voice cuts sharp, desperate, and she catches my hand before I can reach for my phone. “Please, Grant. Don’t. The secrets are already killing me, and tonight she told me something—something I can’t tell you, and if I told her about us right now, it would only make everything worse. I just need… I just need the weekend. I’ll tell her after this weekend.”
Her words hang heavy between us, the silence broken only by the snap of wood in the fire. Finally, she stops, her franticmovements slowing as her eyes sweep the room. The candles. The roses scattered across the table, the mantle, the window ledge.
She blinks, then looks back at me, her lips parting. “You did all this?”
I shrug, feeling foolish, then grin like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Saw it in a movie once. Thought I’d try it out.”