Never Lie (15)

He scoots closer to me and throws an arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer to him. It gives me an excuse to lower my wine glass onto the coffee table. It really is nice and cozy, snuggled up with him on the couch. Maybe this house isn’t so bad. He seems to love it. And if we decide to live here, it will soften the blow of my surprise pregnancy.

But then my eyes lift over the mantle. To the portrait of Dr. Adrienne Hale. It feels like she’s staring down at us with those piercing green eyes, her hair a raging fire around her face. I let out a shudder.

“Still cold?” Ethan murmurs into my hair.

“No…”

He follows my gaze to the portrait hanging on the wall. His eyes darken the way they did when he first saw it. I smile sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s just giving me the creeps.”

“Yeah, I hate it too.” A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Let me take care of it.”

“What?”

Before I can ask him what he’s doing, Ethan has leaped off the couch and is walking purposefully over to the fireplace. He grabs the heavy wooden frame of the portrait and works it loose from the wall. He lowers the painting to the floor, and after a moment of hesitation, he lays it against the wall, facing away from us.

“Ethan.” I squeeze my hands together, which are suddenly sweaty. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not? I’ll put it back before we leave. It’s not like she’s going to care.”

I stare at the space over the mantle, unable to articulate the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Here we are, spending the evening in Dr. Adrienne Hale’s house, drinking her wine, and now messing with her portrait on the wall. And I swiped one of the tapes from her secret room. I don’t believe in ghosts, but if I did, her ghost would be pissed right now.

But Ethan doesn’t seem bothered by it anymore, now that he’s taken the picture down and it’s turned away from us. He sits down beside me again on the sofa and tugs at the top button of my wool coat. “Think it’s warm enough to take this off?”

It has warmed up considerably in the last half hour. I let him undo the buttons on my coat, and after he does that, he kisses my neck. Usually, that’s my sweet spot—I go wild. But right now, I feel nothing.

“We should christen our new house,” he murmurs into my neck.

I kiss him back, trying to muster up some enthusiasm as he fumbles with the button on my jeans. But I can’t seem to enjoy it like I usually do. Even with the portrait turned around, I still feel Dr. Hale’s green eyes boring into me.





Chapter 9


Well, we do manage to christen the house. It might not be our new house, but we christened somebody’s house.

Ethan is in a predictably good mood when we’re finished. No matter how many times we’ve had sex, he still acts like it’s the greatest thing in the world and he can’t believe he got to score with me. It’s sweet. He’s a sweet guy. My friends were totally wrong about all the red flags. He’s not perfect, but who is?

Maybe this is the right time to tell him about the baby. He’s in a great mood, he’s excited about the house—how can there possibly be a better time?

“You’re quiet,” he notes as he zips up his khaki pants.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You look pensive.”

My lips twitch. “Pensive?”

“Like you have something on your mind.”

This is the time. I could tell him. Maybe he’ll be fine with it. He wants kids eventually. No, this isn’t quite the schedule we planned. But babies happen. You can’t control it.

I open my mouth, ready to say the words. I’m pregnant, Ethan. But they don’t come out. And I’m not sure why.

Maybe I’m reluctant to give him some surprising and possibly upsetting news when we’re stuck in an isolated house, just the two of us, where nobody can hear us and there’s no way to leave.

I blink, startled by my thoughts. That last one made no sense at all—it must be some sort of crazy pregnancy hormone paranoia. Yes, I’m worried Ethan won’t be thrilled about my news, and yes, he has a temper. But he would never hurt me. I know that for a fact.

“I don’t have anything on my mind,” I say finally. “Just a little tired.” I grin at him. “You wore me out.”

Ethan beams, proud of himself. He stretches so that I can see some golden blond hairs on his belly. My husband is so handsome. When I first saw him, I thought he was the most perfect-looking man I had ever seen. I figured after I had known him and dated him for a while, I would notice more and more imperfections. And I have identified a few of them. His eyes are too close together. He’s a bit on the short side for a man. Those curly golden hairs are not just on his chest, but also on his back.

But weirdly, all those imperfections make him even more handsome. I can’t explain it.

“Would it bother you if I took a shower?” he asks.

“A shower?”

“Sure. The hot water seems to be running.” He winks. “And I’ve worked up quite a sweat.”

“Yeah, but…” I don’t want to articulate how uncomfortable the idea of him going in the shower here makes me. “You don’t have a change of clothing.”

“It would still be good to get clean.”