Free Shards by Allison Moore Page B

just want you to stop.”
    â€œHow can you ask me that?” I said tersely.
    Keawe frowned. “You have to understand, this is not a good situation for me.”
    â€œAnd this is a good situation for me ?” I said. “You’re an asshole. You have a wife, a family, and expect me to act like your girlfriend in private and nothing in public?”
    â€œHey, you knew what you were getting into, Alli. We just need a little time and—”
    â€œTime? I’ll give you time,” I said, opening the car door. “Here’s your time, fucker!” I slammed the door and stormed off. I don’t know if he would have followed me or not, but the sergeant walked up and I had to fall into step with him.
    â€œYou still here, Moore?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
    Work was the only way I was going to get by without Keawe, I decided. I needed to move on, forget about him.
    I hated that Keawe was interfering with my work, which was the thing I most loved about my life.
    He called later that night, and then came over. Of course we got back together.
    I tried to break up with him a couple of times after that, but it never lasted. We were addicted to each other. A secret addiction. His wife knew nothing. My family knew I had a boyfriend, but they didn’t know he was married. Or a cop. And though Keawe had told one of his friends by now and I had already told Dina and she told Ed, no one else in the department knew about our affair, as far as we knew.
    The more intense our relationship became, the more I worked. I didn’t want to go home alone and think about him being with his wife. I knew I was in a doomed relationship, but I couldn’t make myself end it. On the one hand, I was furious at myself. I was a cop, and here I was at the mercy of a man. Yet all I wanted to do was be with Keawe. He was becoming as important as my work. Maybe more important.
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    In early May, ten months after my affair with Keawe had begun, I missed a period. We had been careful—I thought we had, anyway—soI didn’t think anything of it at first. I figured it was stress. Working too much, working too hard.
    I forgot about it, actually, but a couple of weeks later, I was driving home from work and suddenly felt nauseous.
    I pulled over and put my head on the steering wheel until the feeling passed. Lifting my head, I slammed my palm on the wheel.
    â€œMotherfucker!” I yelled. At myself.
    I wanted to stop at the drugstore right away and buy a pregnancy test, but I was still in uniform. I stood out on the island—I couldn’t risk anyone talking about “the blond cop who bought a pregnancy test”—so I drove home and changed into running shorts and a T-shirt, gathered my hair in a ponytail and put on a baseball cap, and then went to Long’s Drugs in Kihei. Filling up a basket with a bunch of shampoo and other toiletries, I headed toward the counter and threw in a pregnancy test at the last moment. I got back in my car but couldn’t wait to get home to take the test. Instead, I stopped at the nearest bar, ordered a Coke, and went into the bathroom. I ripped the packaging open and took the test. Three minutes later, I had my answer.
    I called Keawe immediately.
    â€œI have something to tell you,” I said. “And I need to tell you in person.”
    â€œAlli, I can’t,” he said. “I’m on Oahu.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYeah, we’re visiting Colleen’s brother.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me? You didn’t tell me you were going.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I forgot.”
    I took in a deep breath.
    â€œWhat is it?” he said. “I don’t have a lot of time. Can you just tell me?”
    I heard the frustration in his voice. “Can you tell me what it is?”he asked. “I can’t do a ten-three