That lasted two seconds.

A blast of fury flared up, shoving the betrayal from my body, and I was full-on raging by the time I heard Garrett coming behind me.

He thought he could come into my life and then disappear? Never. He thought he could do it again? Hell no. This was the third time.

He was done. We were done.

He paused beside me. I felt his uncertainty now. No doubt, he was seeing my rage. I wanted him to see it.

“Can we talk?” he asked again, his tone more wary.

Yes. My insides rejoiced. That small triumph was a lot, but the fury was still boiling in me. I clipped out, “Go ahead.” I indicated the door. “Let’s do this.”

He opened the door but paused at my last statement.

I swept past him. I didn’t pay attention to Summer’s own personal study room. There was a desk and a couch. The colorful room was clean, and she had all the technical toys I assumed a rich kid would have. I turned my back to all of it and waited for Garrett to shut the door.

As soon as he did, he looked at me.

I didn’t give him time to start. I started, “This is the third time.”

He didn’t ask what I meant. His head hung down. “She’s pregnant.”

My rage paused. “Who?”

“My wife.” Stark eyes looked back at me. “She miscarried twice, but she’s pregnant again. It’s why I haven’t called or e-mailed you.”

“No.” I started shaking my head. “No, no, no. You always do this. Always! The first time was because you didn’t know about me. The second time was because you went to get your wife back. And now this—this is the third time, and this is the excuse?”

My chest was heaving. My eyes were wild.

I was on a roll.

I kept going, “I cannot believe you. You’re having a kid. Congratu-fucking-lations! Now, you can do it right, maybe?” I started for the door but swung around again. “But here’s a tip. Don’t disappear. You’d be amazed at the relationship you could have if you were around to have one!”

I stormed out.

I was done, and damn it, I needed to call a cab to come get me wherever I was.

“Sam?” Summer was waiting, fiddling with her shirt. When she saw that I wasn’t going to stop, she jerked forward from the wall and hurried to walk with me. “What happened? What did he say?”

“He’s having a kid. They’re having a kid.” I kept going. Fuck him. Fuck any relationship with him. I already had a dad.

“What? That’s great. Sharon’s been…” She stopped, catching the warning I’d sent to her. She gulped. “Look, I don’t know your relationship with him. I mean, it’s weird. You never talked about him, but now seeing how mad you are, I’m sorry.” She tugged me to a stop. We were alone, right in front of the door again. Her hands twisted around each other, and she tugged at her sleeves, pulling them into a tangled mess. “Garrett knows my dad. They’re all friends. There’s a huge group of them, and there are others, too. But…” She glanced down to the floor before looking back up to me.

A decision was made. I saw it. She came to some conclusion.

Her chin lifted higher. “Screw it. I’m going to tell you everything—”

“Summer, darling?”

She swore before whipping around. Her whole body tensed. “Molly. Hello.” Her tone was guarded. Her chin went from determined to bracing.

A woman in a yellow dress was coming toward us, holding two flute glasses and wearing a large white hat. The hat was a third of the woman’s weight. It could’ve toppled her over, but she kept coming with a graceful smile on her face. When she stopped in front of us, wide, blue eyes ignored Summer and were transfixed on me. She was a stunning woman, but the term airhead seemed appropriate to describe her.

She wouldn’t hold a candle to Helen or Malinda or even Analise.

“You must be Samantha.” She thrust both of the flute glasses to Summer, saying, “Here, dear. I brought you each a mimosa.” As soon as her hands were clear, she reached for me. “I have to give you a hug. I have heard so much about you from Sharon. She’s raved about how beautiful you are, and she wasn’t exaggerating. You, my dear,” she held me in front of her, enraptured, “are just stunning. Absolutely stunning. Summer mentioned you were pretty, but she didn’t do you justice. You look so much like Garrett. I’m in shock.”

That snapped me out of it. My eyes went flat. “I’m nothing like him.” I rolled my arms, loosening her hold on me, and I stepped back. “Not to be rude.”

She didn’t look offended. Her smile only increased. “Yes. You have the same fighting spirit as him, too. I can see it in you. You’re so much stronger than Summer here. Summer, dear, you should be taking lessons from your roommate. I can’t help but be charmed by you, Samantha. I’m so glad that Summer finally invited you to our family dinner.”

Finally? I threw Summer a look. Finally?

She wasn’t looking. Her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. Her throat trembled. I got the impression she was fighting back tears. A wave of remorse rolled through me—no, forget that. She lied to me.

She was Garrett’s goddaughter.

That was enough to bring back the anger. Once it clicked back into place, I felt safe again, and I said, “Well…” I searched for words. There were none. I wanted to get out of there. “I’m leaving. What’s your address?”