That’s when I knew the truth would be worse than anything I had imagined.
“Not here?” I repeated, louder this time. A few people nearby turned to look. “You brought whatever this is to an airport, Ethan. So yes—here.”
The young woman looked like she might collapse. She clutched her purse to her chest and stepped farther away from him. “You told me you were divorced,” she said, her voice shaking. “You said the papers were being finalized.”
I laughed, but it came out sharp and bitter. “Divorced? That’s interesting, because I was at our house this morning packing his favorite travel pillow.”
Ethan dragged a hand down his face. “Claire, please. You’re making a scene.”
“No,” I said. “You made a scene the second you decided to be a husband to me and a future father to someone else.”
The girl whipped around to face him. “Future father?”
That’s when I realized she didn’t know everything either.
I looked at her, then at the envelope in her bag. “You really don’t know, do you?”
She swallowed hard. “Know what?”
Before Ethan could stop me, I reached for the paper sticking out of her purse. She tried to pull it back, but too late. The top page was enough. I saw her name—Madison Reed. I saw his name—Ethan Cole. I saw the clinic letterhead and the words treatment plan, embryo transfer, and intended parents.
