The Wife He Tried To Erase (by Gavin) novel Chapter 4

Lona pounced on his question like a cat on a mouse. “What’s that supposed to mean? A woman can’t have a kid without being married? Wow, Trist, didn’t know you were such a dinosaur.”

“So she’s not married?”

Tristan leaned back in his chair, a flicker of relief crossing his face.

He took a slow sip of water, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Good. So, have you met the guy? What’s his deal?”

Lona frowned at him suspiciously.

“Trist, you’re looking a little too pleased about this. Just because your life’s taken a hit doesn’t mean you get to enjoy her misery.”

Tristan frowned, clearly not getting what she was saying.

Lona pressed on, her voice dropping to a whisper. “When Eleanore comes back, don’t you dare bring up Lucy’s dad. I think she hasn’t dated anyone all these years because she still hasn’t gotten over that jerk.”

Tristan’s faint smile faded, his expression turning unreadable.

I stayed just out of view, waiting until their argument fizzled out before slipping back to the table, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. I hadn’t intended to overhear, but their voices carried clearly.

The truth was, I had never told Lona the full story about Lucia’s father.

When we met, Lucia had already been born.

And I didn’t see the point of talking about a man I thought I’d never see again.

I’d only vaguely mentioned that I couldn’t reach Lucia’s dad after I found out I was pregnant.

Now I could tell that Lona must’ve filled in the blanks herself and had drawn her own, much darker, conclusions.

She clearly thought that guy was a deadbeat, and, to spare my feelings, she’d never pressed for details.

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10:42

Now, that misunderstanding had backed me into a corner.

Lying to Lona felt awful, but I couldn’t just blurt out the truth–that Tristan was Lucia’s father.

I barely knew Tristan, and if things went south between us, it could ruin my friendship with Lona.

That night, Lona and I had a few drinks, the wine loosening our tongues and lifting the mood.

Tristan, stone–cold sober, took the wheel.

As the car headed north, Lona pressed her face against the window, frowning. “You’re going the wrong way! Eleanore’s place is in the other direction!”

“I’m dropping you off first,” Tristan said coolly. “I have something to do later tonight, so I won’t be going home.”

Lona pouted, muttering under her breath. “If I’d known you weren’t going home, we wouldn’t have let you drive. Eleanore and I could’ve hit up another bar.”

Tristan shot her a look but said nothing.

The car pulled up smoothly in front of the Benton’s mansion. Lona dragged herself out, grumbling all the way.

I felt a pang of unease at the thought of being alone with Tristan.

“My place isn’t far from here,” I said quickly. “I can just grab a cab. You’ve got plans, so I won’t hold you up.”

“It’s fine,” he said, his tone easy but firm. “I’m going that way.”

Lona nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, let him drive you! It’s late, and whatever ‘big plans‘ he’s got probably aren’t that important.”

Pushing back further would’ve seemed forced, so I relented. “Alright, thanks.”

“Where to?” he asked.

“Sunnybrook Hills.”

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Weren’t you and Lona planning to keep drinking? I could take you somewhere now if you want.”

“No, no,” I laughed nervously, waving off the offer. “Lona was just joking. Thanks for today, though you and Lona really saved me.”

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10:42

His gaze lingered, a teasing edge to his voice. “Why so formal? Do you really not remember who I

am?”

My breath hitched. I hadn’t expected him to be so direct. My heart raced, and I scrambled for a

response.

Before I could speak, he pressed on, his tone confident. “You remember.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, my voice betraying me.

“Liar,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Lona never told you what I used to do? I’m trained to read emotions from breathing patterns.”

I froze, instinctively holding my breath.

He burst out laughing, the sound rich and warm. “Okay, that part was a lie.”

“Tristan!” I huffed, half–exasperated, half–relieved.

“There we go,” he said, his grin widening. “Now that sounds more like you. You’ve been so jumpy since you saw me today. What’s got you so nervous?”

Terrified he’d see right through me again, I clamped my mouth shut, not daring to say another word.

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