His Ever After (Love Square) by Jessica Ingro Page A

with a straightjacket on. That can’t be a good sign.
    “Um, no! That baby is most definitely not yours, you asshole! God, you are so self-centered. Can’t you just let them be? Seriously! Haven’t you put them through enough shit?” The waving of her arms and the vehemence in her tone has me stepping back slightly.
    “Me? Last time I checked, it takes two to tango! I didn’t force Sam into my bed! She came willingly! And if that child is mine, I deserve to know!”
    If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under right now. I have a feeling Michelle is holding back because we are in public, although the shop owner is certainly getting quite a show right now.
    With a look of disgust on her face, she grabs her cell phone out of her purse and pushes a series of buttons before shoving it in my face. The image on the screen makes me want to drop to my knees and weep like a big, fucking pussy. It’s a picture of Sam in a hospital bed, holding a little baby. The baby has a shock of blonde, curly hair on the top of her head and blue eyes. She looks nothing like me, and it breaks my heart into a million pieces. Any hope I had lingering is gone, and it makes me sick to my stomach.
    I take a deep breath and shift my focus to Sam. She’s absolutely beautiful. Her face is lit up and she is looking at the baby like it’s her whole world. I feel like an interloper. It feels wrong to witness such raw emotion on her face as she looks at her child.
    I clear my throat and hand her back the phone. “Just tell me this. Is she happy?”
    “She’s very happy. I just hope you find your happiness, Jacob.” She puts her hand on my forearm and gives me a sad smile. “I can tell that you love her by the look on your face just now when I showed you that picture. I don’t know what happened with Brooke, but you need to let Sam go.”
    Michelle grabs her flowers and heads out the door, leaving me an emotional mess. Looks like I’ll be hitting the bourbon when I get home in an effort to numb the pain. I give a small, slightly embarrassed smile to the shop owner and tell her my order before heading home to wallow in my own self-pity.
     

Chapter Six
     
     
    When I walk into the apartment, my only thought is grabbing the bottle of Jim Beam out of the cupboard, downing a few shots and then crashing on my bed.
    Those thoughts are quickly replaced when I realize the apartment is eerily quiet. Brooke’s Mustang is downstairs, so I know she is here somewhere. I set my keys on the table and make my way down the hall. The light is on in the guest room, so I peek my head into the room. It looks like the closet has exploded. There are clothes and boxes everywhere.
    My stomach drops knowing that Sam’s book is hiding in that closet. I walk further into the room and find the box it was hiding behind, but I don’t see the book anywhere. I pick through the wreckage and find the overturned box with pictures of Sam and me spilling from it. Lying next to it is the note Sam wrote one night when I had fallen asleep, and she had to get home. It was a cute, little love note that I didn’t have the heart to get rid of. All of this strewn across the floor can only mean one thing.
    Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I have to find Brooke before she loses it. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. Things were just starting to be good between us again.
    I leave the room and head towards our bedroom. The place looks trashed. If her car wasn’t downstairs, I would have assumed she left me. Clothes are thrown around. The dresser drawers are hanging out, and the bedding is tossed.
    I grip the ends of my hair and tug in frustration, taking in the mess all around me. To my right, I see the light streaming through the opening in the master bathroom door. I push it open and notice Sam’s book sitting on the sink. It’s worn from all the times I’ve snuck it out to read. Her picture on the back cover smiles up at me, taunting me from its place on the counter. Sitting next to it is