He closed his eyes at the pain. It gutted him to think about the tiny life that never even got a chance. If Ginger hadn’t had to make that long, arduous flight, or suffered such shock and stress, would their baby have been born by now?
He opened his eyes. “You know what? That’s a great idea. I’m going to get whoever this motherfuc—uh, bad guy—is, and serve his head on a silver platter to Ginger.”
* * *
Ginger had huge amounts of work to do, but for some reason she couldn’t muster the motivation. She changed the wording on her website to indicate she was fully booked for the next six weeks and hit “publish.”
She couldn’t look at the happy couples and pretend she was thrilled to be there anymore. If that made her a horrible person, so be it. But that was probably better than crying. She’d do the weddings she’d already booked, but that was it.
She closed her laptop and stared at the ceiling. It’d been over a week now, but Shane was constantly on her mind. Every day the memory of him seemed to grow stronger, more vivid. And the pain in her chest would intensify and pulse through her body.
Her phone rang, playing the cheery Brady Bunch theme. She hit the speaker button. “Hello?”
“Hey, heard from Mom you tried to reach me. What’s up?”
“Nothing much.” Except for getting my heart broken all over again. “Where are you?”
“Classified.”
She sighed. One day, she’d finally remember not to ask.
“So, when’s the happy day?” Trevor asked.
“What?”
“The wedding. Shane told me there was a misunderstanding between the two of you, and you guys were back together. Gotta mean there’s a definite wedding date sometime soon, right?”
She swallowed and drew in a breath. She would have to announce this to her family sooner or later. “There’s not going to be a wedding.”
Silence.
It was so long she thought the line got disconnected.
“What the fuck?” Trevor finally exploded. “He ran out on you again?”
Sh
e winced. “It’s not like that.”
“He told me he wasn’t going to do that kind of shit.”
“Trevor, cut it out. Let me talk.”
“No, I’m going to kick his ass. Cut off his balls. Break his knees—he’s never gonna be able to run again. I swear to god, he’s gonna cry like a fucking—”
“Stop! Can’t you just be quiet and let me talk for a moment?”
“Why? So you can defend the douchebag?”
She growled. “If you keep talking, I’m never going to answer your calls again. Ever.”
She could hear him breathing heavily over the line, but he finally said, “Okay. Say your piece.”
“Thank you. Now, about Shane and me. It just couldn’t be helped. Nobody’s a villain here.” She told him about the photos and the confrontation at the hospital—minus the miscarriage. “We hurt each other so much through all this, and I don’t even know if love is enough to make things right between us. Sometimes too many things are said and done.”
“The pictures… You said they’re the reason why Shane left in the first place?”
“Yeah. When he investigated them, everyone said they were authentic. He couldn’t bring himself to confront me…and I totally understand that. My mind went blank with pain when I thought he was with another woman. All I could think was that I was in a nightmare, made that much worse because I never thought he’d turn out to be like his father.”