Her Baby: A totally addictive psychological thriller with a shocking twist by Anya Mora

Author:Anya Mora [Mora, Anya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books psychological thrillers, suspense and crime
Published: 2024-04-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

When I enter Tamara’s office on Monday morning, there is only one reason I’m there.

I need to get the paycheck, and as crass as that might sound, it’s one thing I can do for my family right now: tell my story, hope that in the process of doing that, I find some closure, and in the meantime, put food on the table.

Abel told me he was going to go talk to the tennis coach after class today, which gives me a little bit of hope. I don’t know if he’s saying that because he wants Bethany to come back next month, or if it’s because he knows I’m irritated with him for catching Bethany in his bedroom over the weekend.

Regardless, I need to take him to the sports store to buy tennis gear, and everything costs money.

I knock on Tamara’s door, and she lets me in with a warm smile, her lips still painted red, her hair in a loose bun. She is wearing an ivory suit with a lovely light-pink blouse underneath. “Good morning, Gray. I’m so glad you were able to come again. I feel like it’s been a long time since I saw you, yet it’s only been a number of days.”

“I know. Time is like that sometimes, isn’t it?” I say, knowing exactly what she means.

“Now, I wanted to ask if it was okay if I recorded our sessions. I think it might be helpful if I wasn’t so focused on taking notes while you spoke. And instead, if we could engage in a conversation, and if I was freed up to speak candidly, I thought maybe it would make you more comfortable. What do you think?”

I set my purse on the floor next to me and start taking off my jean jacket.

“That’s fine,” I say, sitting across from her. “I get what you mean. It would make it feel less formal, I guess. Though, it’ll be easier for me to let my guard down, which could be good or bad.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asks, sitting down in her chair.

She’s still behind her desk, which does add a bit of formality to the situation, which I honestly think I need. We’re not best friends here. We’re not friends at all. We’ve just met once. This is a business relationship, a transaction. She’s paying me to give her my story.

“I just mean I don’t necessarily want to overshare.”

“But oversharing is where the truth lies, isn’t it?” Tamara asks.

“I just don’t want to sensationalize what my kids have been through.”

“What about what you’ve been through, Gray? How do you feel about sharing that?”

She presses record on her phone, and I bite my bottom lip, bracing myself. This is getting memorialized, whether I like it or not. But maybe there is some power here in not letting Jeremiah have the final word, the last say.

Hasn’t he said plenty over the fourteen years we were together, married? Hasn’t he said enough in front of the congregation

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