Chapter 3Left Hand, Right Hand

I called in sick for three days.

After Landon left, the vomiting didn't stop. At first, I thought it was just a visceral reaction to the double-barreled betrayal from my boyfriend and my protégé. But then, when I tried to clean up the kitchen, the smell of leftover salmon sent me running back to the toilet.

A dark, cold dread settled in my stomach. I went to the drugstore downstairs and bought a pregnancy test.

Two bright pink lines stared back at me, mocking me. The world went a little fuzzy at the edges.

Isn't that hilarious?

Just two weeks ago, Landon had pulled me into bed, his hands and mouth everywhere. We’d made love all night, a desperate, almost frantic kind of energy between us.

"Chloe," he'd whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Let's have a baby."

We didn't use protection that time.

What a coincidence.

I squeezed my eyes shut. It took me three full days to even begin to process the fact that Landon was gone. My hand drifted to my stomach, a gesture I didn't even recognize.

I'm sorry, little one. You weren't wanted. You were a tool. You were never meant to exist.