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“Hey, Josie,” Dana walks by with a tub full of dishes. When I started hiring, Mr. Powell suggested I have everyone call me Mrs. Westbury, just as we still call him Mr. Powell. He said it’s a respect thing, and while I don’t disagree, I find it awkward and impersonal.

“How was the lunch rush?” She passes the bucket off to David, who nods in my direction before disappearing out back.

“Every table was full, and Tracy and Pete really knew how to handle the pressure. David said Pete is a whiz in the kitchen.” Our kitchen isn’t anything extraordinary since we serve mostly soups, salads and sandwiches, but it’s good to know that Pete is capable of keeping up.

“That’s good,” I say, glancing back into the shop to make sure I didn’t miss another chime.

“So, how are you taking everything?”

“With Liam being gone?” I ask with a shrug. “It’s not the first time he’s been gone since we’ve been back together. They toured last year and are hoping to tour this summer, as well. Although, during the summer we can go…” I trail off because Dana is looking at me like I have two heads. Her eyes are squinted as if she’s in deep thought or utterly confused.

“What?” I help her along by asking instead of leaving her sitting there with a strained look on her face, trying to decide how to phrase her next question.

“I just thought… with the… never mind,” she says. She tries to walk away, but I reach out and grab her.

“With the what? Dana, what are you talking about?”

“The photos,” she says quietly, almost... shamefully.

“What photos?” My voice is terse. The tension is already rising.

Dana backs away with her hands up. “I really like my job here, so I’m just going to wait on those customers.”

I stop her again as she tries to pass. “You won’t get fired, nor will I be upset with you. Please tell me what you’re talking about.” I let go of her arm and she digs through her apron, pulling out her phone. After a few seconds of swiping and typing she turns her screen toward me.

I take a step back and take her phone from her. My husband and another woman are kissing. The image is grainy, but there’s no mistaking where his mouth is. I push the screen up and find more of them, together in a restaurant and outside his hotel.

“Who is this?”

“Layla Richards,” she says as my blood runs cold. “According to this article, they used to be…”

“I know who she is,” I say abruptly, as my stomach turns and my heart starts racing. “I need to go. Can you watch the shop until Jenna gets back? She just ran to the bank.”

I don’t wait for her answer as I run out the door. My car is parked down the street, in front of Xander’s gym, and I pray that he isn’t outside when I get there. I fight to hold back the tears as I make my way to my car.

Once inside, I bite the inside of my cheek until I’m far enough away that I can pull over. The scream is nothing like I’ve ever felt before, worse this time than when he left me. I grip the steering wheel, yanking it back and forth as I cry out in anger, frustration and pain. My throat is raw and burning, and the sounds coming out of me are animalistic. I see his face and his eyes as he looks at that woman and I want to strangle him. I want to kill him for doing this to me, for doing this to Noah and our unborn child.

There has to be an explanation. That is what I’m telling myself as I drive home. I can’t fathom the thought of Noah having to go through a divorce. I’ve been down this path with Liam before; I was able to move on and I can do it again, but I’m not sure about Noah.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I yell at the top of my lungs. Not at Liam, but at myself for assuming the worst. He’s always said you can’t trust the media, but was he just saying that so I wouldn’t look or is it true? Or is this true... that he’s with another woman? This is exactly why I didn’t want him to go back to Los Angeles. I can’t handle this part - the Liam Page –part – of his life.

When I pull into the driveway, I’m caught off guard by the sight of Bianca throwing a football around with Noah. She’s still dressed as she was earlier and somehow makes tossing a ball look effortless in heels. I want to talk to her more, but now is not the right time. I pull down my visor and check my eyes. They’re bloodshot and my eyelids are puffy.

Great!

I take a deep breath and open the door. I can’t sit in here and avoid her, especially after everything we shared today.

“Hey Mom,” Noah says after I shut my door. I wave and pretend to look for something in my purse. The longer I stall, the better off I’ll be. But I can’t stand by the car forever and finally take the required steps to get to my front door.

When I look up, Bianca is watching me. She looks so much like Liam, with her dark hair and matching eyes. It makes me wonder if she got her looks from her mom or dad.

“Hello, Josie.”

“Hi, Bianca. I hope Noah isn’t being too hard on you.”

“Oh no, he’s just fine. He’s teaching me how to throw a spiral.”

“She’s not very good yet,” he chimes in. Instead of saying something snobbish, she smiles. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile. Her whole face lights up, making her eyes sparkle.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” I blurt out the question before I know what I’m saying. Either Noah or Bianca let out a little gasp, I can’t be sure whom, but they’re obviously just as shocked as I am that I asked.

“I’d love to, Josie. Thank you.”

“Come on, Grandma, you can sit next to me.”

This is the first time I’ve heard Noah call her grandma, but she must answer to it. He has his arm out, bent at the elbow, as he escorts her into the house.

I follow them into the house and the aroma of lasagna wafts through the air, causing my stomach to turn. I press my hand against my stomach and hold my breath until the queasiness subsides. Linda is an excellent cook and insists on cooking for us, even though she doesn’t need to. For half a minute I thought she’d head back to LA with Liam, but she stayed. I’m glad. It’s nice to have someone in the house when it’s just me.

“Are you okay, Josie?” Bianca asks.

I nod. “I’m fine,” I tell her, offering no valid excuse as to why my stomach is flipping upside down right now.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” We sit down with Bianca sitting by Noah as he rattles off who knows what. She intently listens and asks questions at the appropriate time. When Linda comes out, I tell her that I’m not very hungry and she offers to make me soup instead, clearly not taking “no” for an answer.

We eat with sporadic conversation. It’s mostly Noah talking but I chime in every now and again. When his plate is clear, he asks to be excused, promising he’ll be right back. There’s an awkward silence filling the room and I know I’m the one who needs to break it.

“This really means a lot to Noah – that you’re here and that you come see him.”

Bianca smiles. She sits up straight and puts her hands in her lap, ever so proper. “He’s very funny and so smart. I’ve been enjoying my time with him.”

“Does Sterling know you’re here?” My tone is sharp and to the point. The last thing I want is that man beating down my door looking for his wife.

Her eyes fall to her lap and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “He does and doesn’t approve. But I need to do this for myself. For far too long I’ve done things his way, and I’ve missed out on so many years with my grandson, not to mention my own son. I’d like to go to Noah’s baseball game, if you think that’d be okay?”

I nod, letting her know that it’s fine. “He’d like that,” I say as I try to keep my voice from breaking.

“Do you love him?”

“Who?” I ask.

“Liam.”

My head moves up and down, telling her yes. “Of course I do. Why would you ask me something like that?” Now my voice cracks and tears threaten to fall. I love him but, in this moment, I’m not sure that I trust him.