Just My Luck by Adele Parks (best romance books of all time txt) 📗

us. I could have made it our thing, about our daughter, but I know that’s not how he sees us anymore; otherwise, the Heathcotes wouldn’t be here. Jennifer means a lot to him. She’s not just a fling, a dalliance. I see that now. I’m going to tell them about the pregnancy at the same time, not because I respect her position in his life, but because I couldn’t bear the pain and humiliation of watching his first response be to look for her, hunting her out, wanting to share the news with her. This way I keep things on a more even keel. Anyway, this pregnancy is technically as much to do with her as it is to do with him.

The Heathcotes and Jake shower and dress. After being asked multiple times to do the same—“For God’s sake, Lexi, you are still in your fancy dress!”—I haul myself upstairs. I don’t shower, I don’t want to waste time in case the kidnappers call again. I pull on the first thing that comes to hand, something I was wearing before the party that never made it into the wash basket. It’s not quite clean. I possibly smell. I haven’t the energy to care.

Jennifer, Fred and Jake eat breakfast. It’s all I can do to swallow down more strong black coffee, which I force myself to in order to sharpen my day. I need to push through this fog of fear. I watch Jake chew, his strong, confident jaw moving with purpose. I only just resist hurling my scalding coffee in his face. I’m enraged at his ability to carry on. Watching him bite into his toast used to turn me on. I thought his appetites were sexy; now they disgust me. I loathe his greed, his hunger. The man who wanted it all.

I wait until we are all sitting around the table. There has been a surprising amount of normality this morning. I find it irritating, offensive. There is a lot of “Pass the butter, please” and “How would you like your eggs?” It’s unbelievable to me. There should be no semblance of normality. We are waiting to hear from kidnappers who want us to deposit ten million pounds in an offshore account. Why are they pretending a choice between marmalade or jam matters? I take a strange, secret pleasure in knowing that I have the information and power to destroy this facade of ordinariness they have created. I won’t be comforted and they shouldn’t be, either. This situation is dire, why would they try to minimize it? I’d respect everyone more if they were wailing and panicking.

I take a deep breath. “So, we have even more in common than ever now.” I throw this comment on the table, landing where they can all make of it what they will, but I keep my eyes on Jennifer. I’ve always thought she’s been a little overprotective of Ridley. Let’s see how this bombshell blows up her perception of her precious innocent son. I know I am behaving like a basic bitch—fear can do that. My child is gone. No one seems to be doing anything to get her back and they are stopping me doing what I want to. They are just munching whole wheat toast. My child has been ripped from me. I am going to take Jennifer’s baby boy away from her and deliver a procreating man back in his place. It doesn’t take even four words, just three.

“Emily is pregnant.”

Jaws and spoons drop, clatter on the breakfast table. “What?” demands Jake. He turns so white he’s almost blue, like snow on a field.

“Ridley confided in me last night. Naturally, he’s terrified for her.” The color empties from Jennifer’s face, too. Fred reaches for her hand, and she snatches it away. “I take it you didn’t know?” I ask faux sweetly.

“Well, nor did you,” challenges Jake, even though I had directed my question at Jennifer. I move my focus to him now. I see that there are deep lines of panic scratched onto his forehead. He’s shrunk inches in just moments. I imagine I look equally terrible, but I don’t have the will to put myself in front of a mirror.

“Ridley told me that Emily planned to tell me after the party. She only told him yesterday.” Honestly, delivering this information doesn’t give me any satisfaction. Even though I am accurately retelling what Ridley said, it breaks my heart that Emily hadn’t turned to me first. She must be terrified. Why didn’t she tell me? I feel a surge of horror and adrenaline swamp me, suffocate me.

“I didn’t even know they were having sex,” mutters Jennifer.

“People do tend to be very secretive about sex,” I point out.

And then, although I think it might choke me, I bite into a slice of toast. With my mouth full, I won’t be able to blurt out everything else I know.

Suddenly, Jake jumps up from the table. “Where are you going?” I ask.

“To look for her,” he yells back over his shoulder. I hear dread and horror in his voice. I wish I didn’t because he has insisted that everything was under control, that everything was going to be fine. He said we’d get through it; we’d get her back safe and well. Although I’ve thought his perpetual optimism was delusional, exasperating, deep down I was seduced by it. I longed for him to be right. I’ve believed and trusted Jake forever. He is that sort of man, a man that might just be right. Now, he’s afraid, too, which is horrifying. I feel a tsunami of anxiety swell, threatening to wash me away, but I know Emily needs me to be calm now, not distraught. Jake is already in the hallway with the car keys in his hand and now he’s through the front door.

“I’ll come with you, I can—” The door slams behind him, cutting off Jennifer’s offer.

I stare at her, and she understands. I’m not jubilant. How can I be,