He’s acting weird.

Ever since we left dinner last night, Evan’s been shut off.

He didn’t tell me why we had to leave and I’m honestly sick of it. I grit my teeth and gave in to leaving yesterday. I gave him a full day to explain. But I’ve had enough.

Evan checks his phone again as an explosion on the television booms through the living room. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s numb.

I scroll through the list I’ve added to the baby registry. Maddie sent me a check-off chart and it’s so, so long. I was enjoying it though. All the clothes in miniature and every odd and end, from pacifier holders to little mittens.

But even as a small smile slips across my lips and my hand moves to my belly, I’m distracted. Something’s wrong with Evan.

I peek up at him again, moving my ass into the cushion and pulling the throw closer to me. “Why do you keep checking your phone?”

“It’s nothing,” he answers.

I’m slow and deliberate as I push myself into a seated cross-legged position across from my husband on the sofa.

The expression on his face is one I’ve seen before, the what is she doing look.

He sets his phone down beside him, and I don’t take my eyes off his, but I notice how he tries to hide it.

“No secrets,” I tell him. “You promised.”

Another loud boom from the television distracts me and I reach for the remote without hesitation, bending over Evan and grabbing it as it sits right next to his phone. As soon as the television screen goes black, I toss the remote behind me and into the seat where I was just lying.

Giving him my full attention I tell him, “I feel like maybe you have something to tell me.” I hold his gaze and his expression gives me nothing.

I’m so close to snatching his phone from him just to prove him wrong, but before I pull the trigger on that idea he says, “I don’t want to bother you with these things.”

“You’re my husband. You’re supposed to bother me.” I say it with a little humor, but again, he doesn’t react.

“Tell me, Evan. I want to know.” I scoot closer to him, just a bit so my leg touches his and I rest a hand on his thigh.

“It’s something you said. About Samantha having drugs.” He looks away from me at the far wall in the room. “It’s something bad,” he adds.

“What about it?” I hate that an inkling of jealousy creeps up on me, but it’s quickly followed by a darker realization.

“The coke that killed Tony was laced with poison. High amounts.” He looks me in the eyes and slowly the pieces come together, one by one.

A chill flows over my skin. “Did you tell Mason?” I ask him.

He nods and then confesses, “He thinks he has something concrete.”

“What?” I ask him, eager for more. I can’t lie that there’s a part of me that’s afraid though.

“He can’t tell me over the phone,” Evan says as if that’s the end of the discussion.

“Is it good or bad?” I ask him.

“Good I think.” Evan nods his head and almost looks teary-eyed. “He said it’s done and to come see him.”

“It’s done?” I ask him, and my lungs stay perfectly still until Evan nods his head once. I cave into him, holding on to him and not wanting to admit how much fear I held deep inside. “It’s really over?” I ask him and he shrugs although he looks emotional.

“I have to talk to him.” He turns his attention back to the television and then glances at the remote.

It takes me a moment to realize that he’s planning on leaving me out of it.

No. Fucking. Way.

“So when are you meeting him?” I ask him, narrowing my eyes as I do.

“When you get in bed,” he tells me pointedly and I shake my head and then get up off the couch.

“I’m coming with you,” I tell him. My boots are at the front door and I already have socks on.

I don’t pay attention to him as he stalks over to the door without bothering to grab his coat off the hook.

“What are you doing?” he asks me as I shove one boot on and then the other.

“I told you,” I tell him and then stand upright, grabbing my coat. “I’m coming with you.”

I stand there, praying he doesn’t shut me out. I need to know.

All of this destroyed me in a way I’ll never forget. It broke me and left me in pieces for him to pick up and put back together. He better not deny me this.

“You know I love you, right?” he asks as he steps forward and brushes the hair out of my face.

My eyes flicker from his chest to his eyes as I say, “I do.”

His lips twitch into a smile and he leans down to kiss me. It’s chaste and quick, but he rests his forehead against mine, his hand still on my jaw.

“I don’t like this,” he whispers.

I can’t respond. The words are caught in my throat and I have nothing to give him.

When he pulls back and looks me in the eyes, he looks like he may object, but he’s a smart man and instead he reaches for his coat without a word and opens the door for us to go.