Page 166 of What Goes Around

Two weeks later, my phone vibrated against the counter.

I was in the kitchen rinsing a glass when the building security number flashed on the screen.

“Ms. Richards,” the guard said politely, “there’s a Mr. Nick Reynolds downstairs. He says he knows you. Should we let him in?”

I closed my eyes.

For a moment, I considered saying no. Letting the past stay outside where it belonged.

Then I exhaled slowly.

“Yes,” I said. “Send him up.”

I didn’t fix my hair. I didn’t adjust my clothes. I just waited.

The elevator dinged less than two minutes later.

I opened the door before he could knock.

Nick stood in the hallway, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. He looked thinner. Tired. Not wrecked. Not broken. Just worn in a way that came from too many emotional losses stacked too close together.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

I stepped aside and let him in.

He entered carefully, like he was afraid to touch anything. My apartment was unfamiliar territory to him. My life was.

We stood in silence for a few seconds.

Then he spoke. “You know about the baby.”

I nodded once.

“Why are you here, Nick?”

He swallowed. “Because I thought… maybe now there’s still a chance for us.”

My chest stayed calm.

“There isn’t,” I said.

His face tightened. “Ashley, I was drugged. I would never have touched her if I had been in my right mind. I only wanted you.”

“And the second time?” I asked.

He froze.

“The… what?”

“The second time,” I repeated.

The blood drained from his face.

“There was no second time,” he said.

“I know about it,” I replied. Then I added the lie that would neatly throw Apple under the bus. “Apple told me.”

In reality, I knew because Apple had sent Marissa a smug message the next morning, bragging about it. I had seen it on the clone phone.