I smiled at Rene who had gone completely still beside me. Would you like to see the dates darling? Both tests were from last month. You had me tested without my knowledge? Rene’s voice shook with anger.
Oh, like you’ve been so honest with me? I turned to face him fully. Three years of trying. Three years of you telling me, maybe I was the problem.
Three years of watching you comfort my sister through her visits, while I cried myself to sleep. Linda stood up abruptly. This is, absolutely inappropriate.
No, mother. What’s inappropriate, is your precious Rose fucking my husband, and then trying to pass off someone else’s baby as his. I stood up, gathering my purse.
So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to walk out of here with my dignity intact. And you too, I look between Rose and Rene, can figure out how to explain to everyone why you lied.
That, test. Rene grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. It was wrong, wasn’t it? I leaned in close.
Close enough to smell his cologne. The same cologne I’d smelled on Rose’s jacket last month. Oh no darling.
I double checked. Twice. I pulled my arm free, and I have so much more proof where that came from.
As I walked toward the door, Rose’s voice cracked behind me. Andrea, wait. I can explain.
I paused at the doorway, turning back one last time. Save your explanation for your baby’s real father Rose, I’m sure he’d love to hear it. The last thing I saw as I left was Mary pulling out her phone.
No doubt already dialing everyone in her considerable social network. By morning, everyone would know, and that was exactly what I wanted. Because revenge isn’t just about exposing lies.
It’s about watching them scramble to piece together a truth they can’t possibly explain. And, I was just getting started. Six weeks earlier, I was sitting in my home office when the first real evidence landed in my lap.
Not the subtle signs I’d been ignoring, the lingering hugs, the inside jokes, the way Rose’s visits always coincided with Renee’s work-from-home days. No. This was an actual email accidentally left open on our shared iPad.
We need to be more careful, Rose had written. A is getting suspicious. I stared at those words until they burned into my retinas.
A. Not Andrea, not sister, just A. Like I was some obstacle to be managed. The next morning, I called Angela. I need you to meet me for coffee, I said, and I need you to not ask questions until we’re face-to-face.
Twenty minutes later, we sat in a corner booth at Cafe Luna away from prying ears. Show me again, Angela said, squinting at the email on my phone. This could mean anything.
Right? Look at the time stamp. 1147 p.m. Why is my sister emailing my husband at midnight? Angela’s face hardened. What are you gonna do? First, I’m going to visit Dr. Matthews.
I stirred my untouched coffee. Remember how Renee insisted on handling all the fertility appointments? How he always came back with vague explanations about keeping trying? You think he was lying about the results? I think I’m done letting other people tell me what’s true. Dr. Matthews’ office was exactly as I remembered, sterile, professional, with that faint smell of antiseptic that all medical offices share.
The receptionist recognized me immediately. Mrs. Jensen, we haven’t seen you in months. I need copies of all our test results, I said.
Everything you have on file for both me and my husband. She hesitated. Usually, Mr. Jensen handles all the paperwork.
I’m aware. But as his wife and patient, I have a legal right to access our medical records. I smiled, channeling Rose’s sweet manipulation tactics.
Unless there’s some reason I shouldn’t see them 15 minutes later, I sat in my car, hands shaking as I read through the files. My results were normal, had always been normal. But Renee’s, there were no results, no tests, nothing.
He never took them, I told Angela later that day. Three years of trying, and he never once got tested. That bastard, Angela whispered.
But, why? Control, I said simply. As long as we were trying, he had an excuse for everything. My depression, just hormone treatments.
My suspicions, baby stress. My isolation. Doctors’ orders to avoid stress.
I pulled out my planner, the one Renee always teased me about keeping instead of using my phone. So I made an appointment, told him it was a romantic dinner, had him drink champagne laced with sleeping pills. Angela’s eyes widened.
Andrea, don’t worry, perfectly safe dose. Just enough to make him sleep deeply while the clinic ran their tests. That’s when I got the first results.