Chapter 3 His Ex Is Moving Into Our House?

I froze in the doorway, my keys dangling from suddenly numb fingers. The three of them turned to look at me, their laughter fading into awkward silence.

"Oh, Olivia!" David's mother, Lauren, smiled thinly. "We were just catching up with Sarah. It's been so long since we've seen her."

"I can see that," I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. My home—our home—had been invaded, and somehow I was the outsider.

Sarah rubbed her pregnant belly in an exaggerated motion. "Dave was kind enough to invite me to stay for dinner. I hope you don't mind."

Dave. That nickname again. In one year of marriage, I'd never once called him Dave.

"Actually, I do mind," I said, surprising myself with my directness. "David and I need to talk. Privately."

Lauren's eyebrows shot up. "Olivia, that's quite rude. Sarah is in a delicate condition."

"So I've heard. Repeatedly." I placed my bag on the counter with deliberate care, afraid if I moved too quickly, I might shatter something—or someone.

David approached me, his voice low. "Olivia, can we speak in the kitchen?"

I followed him, my heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. Once we were alone, I crossed my arms. "Why is she here? In our home?"

"My mother brought her." David ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture I rarely saw. "She needs a place to stay, Olivia. She's pregnant and alone."

"And that's our problem how? David, she damaged an expensive dress at my workplace, threatened my job, and is now wearing what I assume was supposed to be my anniversary gift!"

His face fell. "I can explain about the necklace—"

"I don't want explanations. I want her gone." The tremor in my voice betrayed my emotions. "And what happened to our 'we'll talk when we get home' plan? Instead, I find a dinner party?"

"It wasn't planned. My mother insisted—"

"Your mother." I laughed bitterly. "Of course."

Before David could respond, Sarah appeared at the kitchen doorway, one hand supporting her back dramatically. "Everything okay? The baby gets anxious when there's tension."

Without waiting for my response, Sarah gently caressed her baby bump, her expression innocent. "She needs to know, Dave. Since I'm going to be staying here for a while, the three of us should be honest with each other."

"What?" My voice was almost a scream. "You're staying here? In our home?"

"Sarah needs a safe, comfortable place to rest," David finally spoke, his voice unnervingly calm, chilling me to the core. "The doctor says her pregnancy has some risks and she needs someone available at all times."

I stared at David in disbelief. This man, my husband of one year, was asking to move his ex-girlfriend into our home. "You made this decision without even consulting me?"

"Olivia, it happened suddenly." David rubbed his temples. "Sarah only arrived in Los Angeles last night. She has nowhere else to go."

Last night. Our wedding anniversary. When he left me to answer that call, it was Sarah. While I waited alone at our dinner table, he was at the airport welcoming her.

"You could arrange for her to stay at the hotel," I struggled to control my emotions.

Sarah laughed softly, her fingers unconsciously caressing the ruby necklace that should have been mine. "Hotels are too impersonal for pregnant women. Besides, I want that homey feeling."

"This is MY home!" I nearly shouted, but quickly controlled my volume. "I don't agree to this arrangement."

Lauren walked to us, her face clearly displeased. "What arrangement?"

"Sarah's apartment in Europe has been vacated, and she temporarily needs a place to stay," David explained simply.

"Oh, dear, just stay here," Lauren said to Sarah. "The Wilson family never refuses to help those in need, especially old friends."

Sarah's lips curved into a victorious smile, while Lauren appeared very dissatisfied with my attitude.

"Olivia," David took my hand, "can we talk privately?"

I followed David toward his study, with Sarah's deliberately loud voice trailing behind: "Don't worry, Dave. I understand. After all, she doesn't know how deep our connection is."

Once in the study, I yanked my hand from David's. "This is too much! You went to pick her up on our wedding anniversary, gave her my gift, and now you want her to live in our home?"

"Olivia, calm down." David's voice was low and firm. "Sarah is vulnerable right now. She needs help."

"She has a husband!" I countered.

David's expression grew complicated. "They're divorced, right after she discovered her pregnancy. That irresponsible man abandoned her."

"So now this responsibility falls on you?"

"When my company faced financial issues three years ago, her father helped me," David sighed. "We owe them."

I suppressed my fury. "And repaying that debt means destroying our marriage?"

"Nobody is destroying our marriage, Olivia. This is just a temporary arrangement." David tried to embrace me, but I stepped back.

"Why didn't you tell me you were picking up Sarah last night? Why lie about work?"

David's gaze flickered, his tell when lying. "I didn't want to discuss another woman on our anniversary."

"So you'd rather ruin our anniversary than be honest?" My voice trembled with disappointment.

Just then, I felt a strong wave of nausea. Covering my mouth, I rushed to the bathroom connected to the study. After emptying my stomach, I leaned against the cold tile wall, feeling unusually exhausted and vulnerable.

David followed me in, looking concerned. "Are you okay? You haven't seemed well these past few days."

I rinsed my face, unwilling to answer.

"You should see a doctor," David handed me a towel.

"I'm fine," I responded dryly.

When we returned to the living room, Sarah was holding our wedding photo, a mocking smile on her face. "Such a rushed wedding, even the wedding dress is so simple."

I snatched the frame back, returning it to its place. "I prefer minimalist style."

"I'm sorry," Sarah apologized dramatically. "I forgot you work in fashion. Though if you need any advice, I've worked in top fashion houses in Paris and Milan."

David interjected, "Sarah, you should rest. Long flights aren't good for pregnant women."

"You're so thoughtful, Dave, just like before." Sarah said with deliberate intimacy, then turned to me. "I'd like the guest room next to the master bedroom. The sunlight there is good for the baby."

The color drained from my face. That room was our planned nursery.