Part 2My Husband’s Best Friend’s Baby

That night, I went back to the penthouse we shared. I punched the code into the smart lock. Error.

I froze. I tried again. Incorrect Code.

The mechanical female voice echoed in the silent hallway. I stared at the door I had walked through for five years, suddenly feeling like a trespasser.

Two hours later, the elevator dinked open. Garrett walked out, Melody’s arm looped through his.

"What are you doing? Standing here like a gargoyle?" Garrett asked, spotting me.

"The code is wrong," I said.

Garrett tapped his forehead. "Right. Melody said the old numbers were bad luck. Bad juju for the baby. I changed it."

He stepped forward and punched in Melody’s birthday. The lock clicked open.

I followed them inside, but when I reached for my slippers in the foyer, they were gone. In their place was a pair of plush, brand-new slippers in Melody’s size.

"Your old ones were falling apart, so I tossed them," Garrett said over his shoulder. "Melody is moving in; she needed space for her things."

He led her straight toward the primary suite. I followed, stopping dead at the threshold.

My desk had been cleared. My books and files—the remnants of the career I’d put on hold to support his—were shoved into cardboard boxes. The walk-in closet was hanging wide open; half of my clothes were gone, replaced by silk dresses and designer bags I recognized as hers.

"Garrett, what the hell is this?" I pointed at the decimated closet.

Garrett was pouring a glass of lukewarm water, not even bothering to look at me. "She’s moving in. She needs room."

"I had the housekeeper move your things to the guest room. You’ll be sleeping there for the next few months."

Melody was already reclining on the bed, scrolling through her phone. She looked up, her eyes brimming with faux-concern. "Donna, you aren't mad, are you? My nerves have been so shot lately... I can't sleep in new places. This room is so much quieter. It’s better for the baby. You’ve always been so good to me; I knew you wouldn't mind."

I looked at her face—the same face that had wept on my shoulder a thousand times—and felt a sudden, cold lack of desire to argue.

The next morning, I sat at the breakfast bar with a bowl of oatmeal. Garrett walked out of the bedroom, phone to his ear. He hit the speakerphone button right in front of me.

"Yeah, is this the wedding planner? This is Garrett. I need to change the name on the welcome signage. The bride's name is Melody."

My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth.

There was a pause on the other end. "Mr. Morgan... what about Ms. Thorne?"

Garrett glanced at me. "Ms. Thorne? Oh, she’s the maid of honor now."

He hung up and took a sip of his coffee. "Melody’s dream has always been a big wedding. With her condition being so unstable, I need you to play along. We’ve been together forever anyway; the ceremony is just a formality for us. Let her have the 'bride' title. It’s just a role."

He said it so casually, as if he were asking me to pass the salt.

Melody emerged from the bedroom wearing one of my silk robes, wrapping her arms around Garrett’s neck. "You’re the best, Garrett."

She turned to me, smiling like an angel. "Donna, you’ll be my maid of honor, won't you? I want you to see my happiness from the best seat in the house."

Garrett tapped the counter. "Well? Don’t be petty, Donna. It’s just a label."

I looked down at my oatmeal. Ten years of sacrifice, erased by a single sentence.

"Fine," I said.

Garrett beamed. "That’s my girl. I knew we could be a team."