Page 103 of The Voicemail

The answer should be easy, but it isn’t. That voicemail split my life into before and after. I heard her fear before I knew her face. A woman I’d never met became the most important person in the city in less than four minutes. I couldn’t delete the first proof that she existed in my world.

I stop across from her. “Because that voicemail changed my entire life.”

Her expression softens, then tightens again like she doesn’t want it to.

“I couldn’t delete it,” I say.

The office goes quiet.

She looks down at the phone. “I don’t like thinking about her.”

“About who?”

“Me. Then.” She swallows. “I’m not that scared woman anymore.”

“I didn’t keep it because I want you scared.”

“Then why?”

“Because I love the first thing that brought you to me.”

Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t look away. I unlock the screen, open the message, and delete it. Then I delete the backup. She watches every movement.

When I’m done, I set the phone face-down on the desk. “There.”

She blinks. “Just like that?”

“I don’t need proof of who you were that night,” I say. “You’re standing right in front of me. You’re the woman I want. I want you exactly as you are, not who you were.”

Her mouth trembles and I know she hates crying. Pregnancy has made that difficult. Last week, she cried because the bakery down the block ran out of the lemon cake she wanted, then yelled at me for buying the bakery.

“You’re being very charming,” she says.

“I’m trying to get you to dinner.”

She laughs, then stops. Her hand moves beneath her stomach. Everything in me freezes.

“Elena?”

“It was just a cramp.”

“What kind of cramp?”

A dark, wet patch spreads across the front of her dress before she can answer. For one second, neither of us moves. Then she looks back at me.

“I don’t think we’re making dinner.”

My heart stops, then hits hard enough to hurt.

“Marco,” I call.

The office door opens.

“My water broke,” Elena tells him.

Marco blinks once, then turns toward the hall.

“Car. Now.”