Within minutes, we were ushered into a sterile, white room that smelled of rubbing alcohol and lemon cleaner.

A nurse in blue scrubs prepared the cheek swabs.

I went first, leaning back as the cotton swab scraped the inside of my mouth.

Then she approached Blake.

He didn’t flinch as she took the sample, his eyes locked on mine the entire time.

“How long?” Blake asked the doctor who had entered the room.

“For Mr. Harrington, we can run the rapid analyzer,” the doctor said, looking nervous. “It will take about forty-five minutes.”

“We’ll wait,” Blake said.

The doctor and nurse left us alone.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning.

I sat on the vinyl examination table, swinging my legs slightly to keep my composure.

Blake paced the room, his expensive leather shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor.

He stopped by the window, looking out at the rain washing over the glass.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Emma?” he asked, his back to me.

“You threw me out, Blake,” I said, my voice cold.