Page 58 of The Logic of Loyalty

“Insurances are guaranteed that your money will have the biggest impact with the original option.” That was a bad one, but my father looks like he’s getting bored. Sure enough, he mouths “get him to go higher,” and leaves without a word of apology and with the door remaining wide open.

“Let me send over what types of insurance I have. Look into it and tell me what you think. Paul is fucking everything up, and I’m not sure how long this company will last with him running it into the ground.”

“Of course. I’ll look into all of the details and get back to you with our best offer. Thank you, sir. Have a great afternoon.” The phone goes quiet when Billy hangs up, and I stare at the screen—at the made-up numbers and data points.

I’m damn good at my job. I’ve been highly motivated to be the best for years. I planned on being so for the rest of this year as well, but I’m out of time. Since the moment I showed up at my father’s door all those years ago, our first NICU bill in hand, I’ve pinched every single Goddamn penny that has landed in my pocket while still giving my family a comfortable life that is far away from the Suburban where we started. My father, as a banker, was well aware of the programs out there available to people like my wife and me to help with things like medical debt, but did he inform his only son? No.

Owing a man like Richard Whitaker the kind of money he loaned to me so many years ago is like selling your soul to the devil. His terms were predatory at best and illegal at the worst. I’ve been able to keep my head above water until this year started. First, it was his top man announcing his retirement from the business, then it was Bobby’s rise in prominence in the company, and finally, it was my own person, unraveling.

Thankfully, he thinks that I have over $500,000 yet to pay, so he’s not going to expect me to rock the boat. He’s going to expect my absolute surrender and complete compliance, and I’ll give that to him for a little longer. Richard has been pulling straight from my paycheck for years. But again, I’m damn good at my job. I know money. I have about $300,000 sitting in a CD, collecting one backbreaking dollar at a time and locked up tight to never be touched until I’m finally able to toss the money in his face and walk away forever. The sale of my Camaro gave me a big jump, especially considering the work the boys and I did over the last couple of years. However, I did a rush sale, letting my emotions get the best of me, and now I still need $100,000.

I need to get out of this bank, and I need to do so before it completely destroys my life.

I’m in the middle of some paperwork for closing out a pretty major account when my alarm on my new phone goes off. My VIP lunch date. I shut my laptop and pocket my keys and phone. I’m about to walk out the door when I stop in my tracks. Actually … I return to my desk, lock the file I was working on, and put my laptop in the drawer. I shut down my desktop as well.

I don’t trust anything that’s happening here anymore. Passing through the main office, my attention is caught by the familiar form of Asher, except he looks nothing like himself. I lift my head to say hello, but he gives a sharp shake of his head. Interesting.

I’m nearly to my destination when Paige passes by in the Suburban. What the hell? Her eyes pass right by me, which makes sense as I’m driving this beautiful 1992 Honda Accord. Carter’s dad, Lyle, didn’t hesitate when I asked if I could buy it off him. “Are you kidding? I get to help you, and get brownie points with the wife for selling a car and getting it off our property? Absolutely. Grab the title from the drawer, and we can finish the paperwork when I get back.” Lyle didn’t ask any questions, but I know his wife will have plenty. The acid sloshes with the idea of facing their combined disappointment.

I turn around at my first opportunity and follow Paige. When she starts heading out of town, I get really confused. I try calling her, but it goes straight to voicemail. I follow her anyway, worry seeping in when I recognize the direction she’s going. Soon enough, ten minutes later, she’s turning into the lot of our pediatrician and her Ob-Gynecologist. They share an office. I pull in behind her and park on the other side of the lot. I try calling again, and again I’m sent to voicemail. Did she block me? Paige disappears behind the doors, no Jacob in sight.

Is she … Does she have an appointment?

It must be for a general check-up or Check-in. She’d let me know when our first baby doctor appointment begins. I sit and stare out the windshield, watching the door as my thoughts rotate through my mind. Some make me feel better about everything and minimize, then there are others that fill me with sickening doubt. I think I make it ten, maybe fifteen minutes of sitting there, the scent of our lunch filling the car, before I finally give in and follow her.

I’m two steps in when I see the back of her through the other door. I grind my teeth to keep from running in after her. It’s an appointment. She made an appointment without me. I debate leaving or marching up and demanding answers. But … I can’t. I can’t move. Images of Jacob’s appointments start to play behind my eyes. Paige, terrified, squeezing the life out of my hand while we wait for the image to come up. Paige crying when we first saw his heartbeat. Paige laughing while we watch our baby kick and spin on the screen. Paige looking to me to keep me in the moment with her.

I fall into the seat closest to the door as new images pop into my mind. These are far newer, and there is no joy in them. Paige, outraged, shouting at me about betraying privacy. Paige, tired, watching me from across the party. Paige laughing, crumbling on the side of the road with an empty condom wrapper in her hand. Paige, quiet, sitting at the table while another woman touches me. Paige, bruised and vibrating in silent fury, asking me about my feelings for another woman.

Oh, God. Oh my God. “What have I done?” The words are a whisper in the quiet waiting room. A man and a woman I vaguely recognize sit in the corner. His hand rests on her stomach, and they’re absorbed in their own little world. Her smile is so wide, and his eyes keep traveling across her beaming face and down her clearly pregnant body. If anything, they’re radiating contented joy. Unable to watch any longer, my eyes drift back to the closed door. I stand, unsure what I plan on doing when time moves in slow motion. The door glides open, and out steps my world with tears staining her cheeks.

“Paige?” Her name falls from my lips in a broken whisper, but her head whips to me as if I shouted, screamed it into the room. I watch like I’m outside my own body as her face registers first relief, only for that to bleed into confusion, and finally, horribly, disappointment.

Pain like I didn’t know was possible for a man to feel without losing a limb suffuses my chest. I put my fist there, placing pressure like I’m holding myself together, staving off the blood that must be pouring out of me. Her eyes are harder than I’ve ever seen them before she turns from me and follows the nurse to the front desk. She doesn’t even acknowledge me, and I’m left here, bleeding out, wondering how I’m supposed to take my next breath.

What have I done?

Chapter Twenty-One

PAIGE

Josh is searching my face for something, staring at me. I blink out of my haze and recognize that his hands are reaching toward Cassian, the bottle already on the table next to him.

“Oh, shoot. Sorry.” I hand over his little one and start searching my mind for what I can do instead. I stand to leave to give them some privacy, but he stops me with a quick whisper, so as not to disturb the sleepy, eating baby.

“Hey, hold up. I work from home, and you, Cass, and Jacob are my only interactions on any given day.” He gestures to the seat next to him. “Sit. Stay awhile.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jacob is playing basketball with the Brights’ hoop and our ball, so he’s fine. No need to check up on him when the rhythmic dribbling against the concrete and the clang of it hitting the backboard is such a clear indication that he is fine.

“Were you aware that we went to school together? You and me?” Josh’s voice is quietly conversational as he feeds a heavy-lidded Cass. “I was a sophomore when you came, so you may not remember.” That baby is going after that bottle. I wonder if he misses his momma.

I wonder if I’ll be able to breastfeed, or if I’ll be bottle feeding again. I look up from Cass to see that Josh is staring at me, and his words finally register.

“No. I’m sorry, I—wait. Why hasn’t anybody said anything? There are like, twenty-seven people who live here!” How did I not know this?

Josh chuckles, eyes sad, a contradiction of emotions. “I didn’t graduate here. I left the end of your first year here, actually. When my father passed away, my mother took us to live with her sister for a while down near Edgewood. You know the place?”

“I shop there sometimes.” Cassian is already done with the bottle, having powered through it in no time. Maybe we need to move up to eight ounces and a larger nipple. Josh also notices that his son has finished, so he rearranges him to his shoulder, his hand patting Cassian gently on the back. Doubtfully doing much beyond soothing him deeper into sleep. I surreptitiously check the time to make sure it’ll work for him to nap so early, or if I need to intervene to avoid a messed-up schedule for the rest of the day.