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The day I uncovered Grant’s infidelity, my best friend stormed in with a kitchen butcher knife. She swore to get even with him. “How could he break your heart? Does he think you’re easy to bully?” “I’ll make him and that other woman pay dearly.” I fought back stinging tears and pulled out a pregnancy test. “Sloane, I’m five months pregnant. The baby is perfectly healthy.” Her rage faded into silence at once. She forced Grant to his knees, pressuring him to beg earnestly for my pardon. Grant sobbed and clung to me, vowing never to stray again. Yet on my scheduled prenatal checkup day, I spotted all three of them through a restaurant window. My friend was meant to compete at boxing practice. Grant claimed he was stuck on a business trip out of town. Sloane clutched a bouquet, while Grant held an engagement ring for a third woman. Surrounding diners cheered loudly, urging her to accept. I froze for a breath, then pushed the door open and stepped inside. The day I found out Grant Whitmore was cheating on me, my best friend grabbed a butcher kitchen knife and swore she’d kill him after him. “How dare he hurt you?” Sloane Mercer snapped. “Does he think I’m some kind of pushover?” “I’ll skin that basta//rd and his homewrecker alive.” I held back the tears burning my throat and pulled out my gestation test. “Sloane, I’m gestational.” “The baby’s healthy. Five months along.” She went silent. Then she dragged Grant over and made him get down on his knees to beg for my forgiveness. Grant clung to me and wept, promising over and over that it would never happen again. But on the day of my next OB-GYN appointment, I caught sight of them through a restaurant window. There was my best friend, who was supposed to be at her boxing club for a match. And there was Grant, who was supposedly still away on business in Port Haven. The two of them were sitting beside another woman. Sloane was holding a bouquet. Grant was holding a ring. The crowd around them clapped and cheered. “Say yes!
