and tell me, Olivia?”
Olivia eyed him speculatively, wondering for a moment if she should tell him his envelope would have to wait until after she’d said what she needed to say. But curiosity got the better of her and, a moment later, she found herself holding a stack of five-by-seven photos.
She did a double take when she realized they were photos of herself—in the arms of Dr. Chance Demetrios.
“What is this?” she asked as numbness engulfed her.
“Why don’t you tell me, Olivia? I think you’re the one who needs to explain.”
She blinked at Jamison, confused. Then as her gaze skittered from him to the photos, and back to him, an ugly realization set in.
“You had me followed? Why, Jamison? Why would you do that?”
He gestured toward the photos. “For obvious reasons that are self-explanatory.”
Her heart drummed a furious cadence, and she stared at the photos again, this time taking a longer look.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Tell me exactly what it is you think you see.”
He scooted to the edge of his chair and braced his arms on his knees. “I see my wife in another man’s arms. The very man who called my house on the morning I left for D.C.”
What? Olivia squinted at him. “How do you know he called?”
His brows shot up. “I checked the caller ID when I went back into the bedroom. Chance Demetrios’s number came up. Do you deny that you talked to him?”
Jamison sounded like a lawyer prosecuting his case. She hated it when he took that superior tone with her.
“Stop talking down to me.” She flung the photos onto the coffee table. “I am not on trial.”
Jamison flinched and his face softened to a heartbreaking look of anguish.
“No, you’re not. But…” He gestured to the photos. Then, as he reached down and picked up one, Olivia saw that he had tears in his eyes.
Oh, my God. This is why he wouldn’t return my calls.
“Jamison, listen to me. This is wrong on so many levels that I don’t even know where to begin. Except to say it’s not what it looks like. I am not having an affair with Chance Demetrios.”
His throat worked in a hard swallow, and he looked her square in the eyes. She held his gaze. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
The beginning? Where did the story begin? Their relationship had been deteriorating for so long, she really didn’t know where to start. Even so, she knew she had to tell him the truth.
“Chance Demetrios is my doctor.”
Jamison nodded. “I’m aware of that. Until the photos, I was aware that you’d seen him once a few months ago. For professional reasons.”
“He called the morning you left because I told Paul I’d like to schedule another appointment with him.”
Jamison’s brows knit together. “An appointment? Why?”
Olivia sucked in a deep breath. This was it. She had to fess up. Level with him. “After Christmas with your mom and seeing Payton the baby-making machine, I just…I needed to try and have a baby, Jamison. For both of us. I decided to go ahead with another in vitro procedure on my own.”
Jamison’s confused expression deepened. “Exactly what are you saying?”
“It’s pretty simple. Except, actually, it’s not. When I went in for the appointment—on that day right there—” she pointed to the photos and grimaced at him, making it clear that they’d revisit the issue of the P.I. photos “—Dr. Demetrios delivered news I didn’t want to hear. He told me that tests proved that my body is going through early menopause, and most likely, that’s why we’re having trouble conceiving. He said that there was a very limited opportunity left for me to get pregnant. So, as you can imagine, I was quite upset. When I ran out of his office, he came after me in the parking lot because he didn’t want me to drive. Sure, he hugged me—that’s what you’re seeing there. He was comforting me—as my brothers might have comforted me. There certainly wasn’t anything illicit
Olivia eyed him speculatively, wondering for a moment if she should tell him his envelope would have to wait until after she’d said what she needed to say. But curiosity got the better of her and, a moment later, she found herself holding a stack of five-by-seven photos.
She did a double take when she realized they were photos of herself—in the arms of Dr. Chance Demetrios.
“What is this?” she asked as numbness engulfed her.
“Why don’t you tell me, Olivia? I think you’re the one who needs to explain.”
She blinked at Jamison, confused. Then as her gaze skittered from him to the photos, and back to him, an ugly realization set in.
“You had me followed? Why, Jamison? Why would you do that?”
He gestured toward the photos. “For obvious reasons that are self-explanatory.”
Her heart drummed a furious cadence, and she stared at the photos again, this time taking a longer look.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Tell me exactly what it is you think you see.”
He scooted to the edge of his chair and braced his arms on his knees. “I see my wife in another man’s arms. The very man who called my house on the morning I left for D.C.”
What? Olivia squinted at him. “How do you know he called?”
His brows shot up. “I checked the caller ID when I went back into the bedroom. Chance Demetrios’s number came up. Do you deny that you talked to him?”
Jamison sounded like a lawyer prosecuting his case. She hated it when he took that superior tone with her.
“Stop talking down to me.” She flung the photos onto the coffee table. “I am not on trial.”
Jamison flinched and his face softened to a heartbreaking look of anguish.
“No, you’re not. But…” He gestured to the photos. Then, as he reached down and picked up one, Olivia saw that he had tears in his eyes.
Oh, my God. This is why he wouldn’t return my calls.
“Jamison, listen to me. This is wrong on so many levels that I don’t even know where to begin. Except to say it’s not what it looks like. I am not having an affair with Chance Demetrios.”
His throat worked in a hard swallow, and he looked her square in the eyes. She held his gaze. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
The beginning? Where did the story begin? Their relationship had been deteriorating for so long, she really didn’t know where to start. Even so, she knew she had to tell him the truth.
“Chance Demetrios is my doctor.”
Jamison nodded. “I’m aware of that. Until the photos, I was aware that you’d seen him once a few months ago. For professional reasons.”
“He called the morning you left because I told Paul I’d like to schedule another appointment with him.”
Jamison’s brows knit together. “An appointment? Why?”
Olivia sucked in a deep breath. This was it. She had to fess up. Level with him. “After Christmas with your mom and seeing Payton the baby-making machine, I just…I needed to try and have a baby, Jamison. For both of us. I decided to go ahead with another in vitro procedure on my own.”
Jamison’s confused expression deepened. “Exactly what are you saying?”
“It’s pretty simple. Except, actually, it’s not. When I went in for the appointment—on that day right there—” she pointed to the photos and grimaced at him, making it clear that they’d revisit the issue of the P.I. photos “—Dr. Demetrios delivered news I didn’t want to hear. He told me that tests proved that my body is going through early menopause, and most likely, that’s why we’re having trouble conceiving. He said that there was a very limited opportunity left for me to get pregnant. So, as you can imagine, I was quite upset. When I ran out of his office, he came after me in the parking lot because he didn’t want me to drive. Sure, he hugged me—that’s what you’re seeing there. He was comforting me—as my brothers might have comforted me. There certainly wasn’t anything illicit
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