Page 46 of It Must Be Fate

Her father would be proud.

Carter straightens, an easy grin playing on his lips as he looks back at me. “I heard you married him. Well, she looks just like him.”

He doesn’t say Rhys’s name.

He doesn’t need to.

When I broke up with him, he accused me of leaving him for Rhys. He’d met him briefly when he visited me in Switzerland and had picked up on the connection between us.

I broke up with Carter because the relationship was over, not because of Rhys, but… men and their egos.

Time really does dull all wounds because I’m pleased to hear that Carter’s voice doesn’t hold any of the heat it did back then.

“Does he make you happy?” he asks.

The answer to that is an obvious one.

***

Later, once Hayes is in bed, I’m on the phone with Bellamy and debriefing her on seeing Carter again after all this time.

“Did he look the same?”

“Yeah, just… older.”

“Don’t we all,” she says with a groan. I watch her reposition herself with difficulty on her couch. “I want this baby out.”

“Only a couple more months and he’ll be here,” I say reassuringly.

“I may not get up from this couch until he does.”

I laugh, settling in at the counter of our kitchen island.

At her last appointment, Bellamy’s doctor congratulated her on the fact that she was expecting a son, one who was apparently in the ninety-ninth percentile for weight and size.

Rogue told me the incinerating look she turned his way was powerful enough to reach back three generations into his family tree.

“Anyway, that’s not important. If I remember correctly, the last time you saw him in person, it didn’t exactly go that well. What was it like seeing Carter? Did he behave?”

“What was it like seeingwho?”

Because I’ve never been lucky a day in my life, Rhys decides now is the most judicious time to come home. His voice is cold and clipped as he strolls into the kitchen.

Bellamy’s eyes widen at his sinister tone.

“Oops. Fuck. Sorry, Thayer, I’ll leave you to deal with that. Glad it’s not me,bye.”

“Cheers,” I reply with heavy sarcasm before hanging up.

I turn towards my husband. He’s standing on the other side of the island, a large bouquet of blood red roses dangling from his hand and an expression like thunder darkening his features. He drills holes into the side of my face with his glare.

My skin sizzles with excitement. There’s a toxic little part of me that loves seeing my man get jealous. Only because he has no reason — and never will haveanyreason — to doubt me.

“Hi, baby.”

“Tell me the Carter she mentioned is someone new you just met and not who I think it is, love,” he replies, cutting straight to the point.

I swallow thickly. My lips part to answer him but no words come out so I close it.

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