Read Tell Me a Lie (The Story Series Book 3) for Free Online

picnic basket down on the coffee table, then going around his desk so I could kiss him. “Sorry I’m late. After the doctor I stopped at the store and then went home to make lunch and then got a call from the bookstore and…you know how it goes.”
    “It’s okay.” He wheeled his chair away from the computer and stood. He folded me in his arms. “Thanks for bringing me lunch, babe. I’m ravenous.”
    After a quick kiss, he broke away and looked around for the basket of food.
    “Let’s sit over on the couch while we eat, and you can tell me about the doctor. What did she say?”
    I sat on the edge of the brown leather sofa and leaned to open the basket. “I made your favorite.” I extracted one sandwich. “The roasted veggie with hummus wrap you like. And I brought the cookies I baked and some leftover tortellini salad from last night and apples so you can snack later.”
    I pulled out two blue-and-white checked napkins from the basket, with matching placemats from home, and I smoothed them on the coffee table, like we were having a formal picnic. Then came two forks and two plastic picnic plates, and I set them on the napkins. I rested the basket on the floor, wanting to avoid the conversation we were about to have.
    Breaking potentially bad news wasn’t my strong point.
    I laid the food out carefully on the mats and unwrapped a sandwich roll. He watched me in silence, and I could tell he was appraising me, waiting for me to answer his question. It took a few frustrating minutes to undo the tight plastic around the sandwich and I finally handed it to him, along with a napkin.
    He took a bite, then chewed and tilted his head while staring at me. I glanced at him and marveled at how edgy he looked at the office. More like his brother Colin and less like the man I knew at home. Caleb inhaled the sandwich in five big mouthfuls. I opened the tortellini salad and speared one piece.
    “You must have been starving. Here.” I held the fork out to his mouth.
    He didn’t take my offering. “Emma. What are you avoiding my question? Is the baby okay?”
    I popped the tortellini in my mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “Yes. The baby is perfect, according to the doctor. It’s me that could have a problem.”
    His brow sunk. “Explain.”
    Whenever Caleb was at work, he tended to be more curt, businesslike, colder. Even when it came to me and the baby. I swear, his blue eyes even turned a lighter, icier hue when he was working.
    “Maybe I should have waited to tell you this at home-”
    “No. You’re doing the right thing by telling me now, but let me know what’s wrong. You know I hate being kept in the dark.”
    “The doctor says my blood pressure is slightly high.”
    He chewed on his bottom lip, then inhaled impatiently. “Is it high, or not?”
    “Well, it’s on the high side of normal, whereas it wasn’t before we went to Canada. They’re not sure if it’s gestational hypertension or not. It’s too early to tell, and my blood pressure was one-thirty-five over eighty.”
    “What’s hypertension?”
    “One-forty over ninety.”
    He nodded slowly. “Okay. So what does this mean?”
    “They want to see me next week, and the week after. It has to be two consistent readings of one-forty over ninety for them to make a diagnosis. They’d like me to buy a home blood pressure monitor to track the numbers. High blood pressure can be a serious problem in geriatric, uh, older pregnant women. It needs to be watched because there’s lots of potential complications, like preeclampsia. And my doctor’s suggesting more prenatal meditation and massage so I can de-stress.”
    “I’d suggest cutting back on some of your activities as a way to de-stress.” His expression was solemn.
    “I’m not really doing much,” I protested. “I gave half of my shifts to Gina at the bookstore.”
    “Right, but every day since we got back from our honeymoon, you’ve been out scouting for a location for your new bookstore or