PART 1

My ex-fiancé threw a hundred-dollar bill at my feet and announced, in front of the whole store, that I didn’t have enough money to feed the child I was carrying.

The worst part was that the baby was his too.

My name is Tessa Marlowe.

I’m twenty-seven, and I was five months pregnant.

That afternoon I walked into a grocery store in Chicago with seventeen dollars in my account and a list written on the back of a doctor’s appointment card.

I needed milk, oatmeal, and the prenatal vitamins I’d put off for a week.

I put the cheese back in the cooler after adding up the prices for the third time.

“Well, look who’s counting pennies.”

I recognized the voice before I turned around.

Grant Whitaker wore a watch that cost more than a year of my old salary.

Beside him stood Brielle, the woman he had cheated on me with while we were planning our wedding.

Now she was wearing the ring he’d bought her two months after he left me.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to get past with my basket.

Grant closed the gap between the coolers.

“So that’s how you plan to raise my kid?

On discount milk?”

I froze.