“No, you’re not. And hey, I’ve always had this fantasy . . . sweeping a damsel into my arms and all that shit,” he teased, trying to make her smile. And he wasn’t even lying, really. He did dream of doing things like this . . . with her. Only her. Always her. As he settled on her bed, his back against the painted doors she’d used as her headboard, he stroked a hand down her curls. “You go on and cry, sugar. You need to do it.”
“Crying doesn’t solve anything,” she whispered. And tears continued to run down her cheeks.
She wasn’t a pretty crier. Her nose was red, her eyes were puffy. And all he wanted to do was wipe away every damn tear. Kiss her. Then go strangle Roger, beat some sense into him, whatever it took to make her happy. Hell, if he had to, he’d drag the fucker to the church for the damned wedding. Except Roger couldn’t make Abby happy. Not the way she deserved. That was the real bitch of it all.
“Not everything has to be solved. Not everything needs to be a solution or an answer.” Guiding her head to his chest, he hugged her. “Cry. Scream. Talk to me. Whatever you need to do, sugar.”
Chapter Two
The woman who shall not be named was calling again.
Abigale eyed the phone with acute dislike as she finished working on her list. She’d already contacted just about everybody regarding the now-cancelled wedding. The only thing she hadn’t done was cancel the honeymoon.
A trip to Alaska.
Roger had balked. He’d wanted to go on some world tour, but she’d wanted to go to Alaska. It had been a dream she’d had for several years, but the timing hadn’t ever been right. Until now. Why not for a honeymoon?
In the end, they’d compromised. She’d promised him a longer trip for their one-year anniversary if he’d do an Alaskan trip for their honeymoon. Now she wondered why he’d even bothered.
You’re not being true to yourself—
Groaning, she dropped her pen and pushed back from her desk.
Those words kept echoing through her head, over and over.
Even after nearly a week, she was still hearing those words. It was weird that she heard them more often than everything else. Those words chased her in her sleep. She’d been in the middle of putting together a dinner menu for a client and all of a sudden, nothing else in the world would matter, because she’d find herself remembering those words.
Those words.
The hell she wasn’t being true to herself. She’d gotten away from a life she’d hated. How much more true could she be? She’d been living her life exactly as she’d wanted and had been walking right down the path to the happy goal she’d set.
Until he derailed it.
And yet, here it was nearly ten o’clock on Friday, five days after the dismal, depressing end to her engagement, and she was still thinking about those words. Those words actually seemed to bother her more than the fact that he’d ended things, the bastard.
“What I need to do is make another plan,” she mumbled.
Her life, once more, had been thrown into chaos.
She left her office and headed upstairs to her bedroom. She hadn’t looked at her business plan since she’d marked the wedding off the list but it was time, she decided.
Grabbing her journal, she went back down to the office and settled on the couch. There was a pen tucked in a little loop and as she started to think, she pulled the pen out and tapped it against her lips.She didn’t start to make any notes. Not yet. Her thoughts needed to settle. Needed to focus.
Did she need a man? That was the question. She wasn’t one of those women who believed a man was necessary to fulfill or complete a life but Abby wanted a man. She wanted marriage. Her throat tightened a little as she thought about the other things she wanted . . . kids, at some point. Not just to have that happy, stable life she’d never had for herself, but she wanted a family. She saw a mom at a baby shower and her heart ached with envy.
Some women didn’t want to be mothers and she completely respected that; she understood. Hell, some women should never be moms. Her mother sure as hell didn’t need to procreate but she’d done it and made Abigale’s life hell.