Chapter 11: Homewrecker

"Max," I whispered. "Are you sure?"

He nodded against the seat.

Then Andrea found her keys and the engine started.

The window hummed back up.

The white Audi pulled out of the fire lane and turned left toward Grandview.

I stood on the sidewalk holding his tissue.

The baby isn't Dad's.

A ten-year-old with a fever, repeating something through a gap in a car window.

I couldn't take that anywhere.

I couldn't even say it out loud without dragging him into it.

So I didn't.

I went back to my office and finished the cake tasting.

The bride picked champagne.

By Friday the whole city seemed to know who I was.

Jason's sister posted at seven in the morning.

A black-and-white ultrasound, held up in Andrea's hand against Pamela's kitchen window.

The caption said: "Family is forever. Some people find their way back home. Baby Hensley, coming March."

She didn't hide it from me this time.

She tagged Jason. She tagged Andrea. She tagged her mother.

Then she posted a Story.

The neighborhood page picture of Jason's black bags on my porch.

Over it she had typed in white letters: "When the side piece thinks she's the main character."

The side piece.

I had met Jason a full seven months after his divorce was final.

That didn't matter on Instagram.

By noon the post had nine hundred likes.

People I didn't know were commenting.

"Wait, isn't that the wedding planner?"

"Ashwell Events. I knew something was off about her."

"Imagine breaking up a family and then planning their party lol."

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