I told Quentin Palmer I was pregnant as soon as I found out—first month. I was over the moon. 

He wasn’t. 

Instead, he just frowned, all moody and weird. When I asked when we were getting married, he panicked and changed the subject. 

So yeah, I went to the hospital alone today for a checkup. 

And ran smack into Rainee Layton—his so-called childhood friend. 

That’s when I found out the real story: they were already married. And she was pregnant too. 

“You little rascal,” she cooed to her bump. “Be good and grow strong so Mommy doesn’t suffer. Or Daddy’s gonna punish you when you’re out!” 

Quentin stepped out of the exam room holding prenatal meds—for pregnant women. 

His face? All soft and glowing like some proud dad. 

He rubbed Rainee’s belly, smiling. “The baby doesn’t even get what you’re saying, and you’re already threatening it?” 

Then the machine called my name. 

I stood up from a corner. He turned. Our eyes met. 

He froze—totally caught off guard.