six times before reaching their backs. But they had what so many people didn’t.
Each other.
For the first time in a long while, Shannon thought of her own sister. Where was she now? Angie had dropped out of school to join the Peace Corps years ago, eventually finished school in Spain, and had continued her volunteer efforts tutoring English in remote locations in Brazil. When she didn’t come home for the holidays again last year, her mother had hinted that Angie was considering traveling to Africa next.
“That girl won’t be happy until she contracts some incurable disease.”
Their parents didn’t approve.
On impulse, Shannon fished her cell phone from her purse and dialed the only number she had for her sister.
The phone rang four times and went to voice mail, a common occurrence with a woman who frequented places that didn’t have running water.
“Hey, Angie . . . it’s Shannon. I was thinking about you and wanted to catch up. Where the heck are you now? It’s been too long. I love you, sis. Call me sometime.”
She disconnected the call with a shrug. She’d left messages like that in the past, only to hear back six months later in the form of a card or word passed on through their parents.
Somewhere around the time Shannon married Paul, her sister had faded out of her life without explanation. Shannon asked herself why. They never crossed words, agreed on most political positions, and got along when she did show her face.
Shannon had never come right out and asked her sister what she had done to be ignored. Probably because she wasn’t prepared to hear the answer.
Who was she kidding? Alone with her own thoughts, she couldn’t be honest with herself.
Angie had never approved of Paul. When they’d announced their engagement and rapid trip to the chapel, her sister sent a brief letter. The words had been etched in Shannon’s brain for years.
What happened to my sister with her big dreams of fixing the screwed up world one revealing photograph at a time and ideals that weren’t spoon-fed by our parents? You’re selling out. You’re more than some man’s political wife.
Her sister had been right, which hurt to hear. But at the time it solved so many problems. Shannon was outsmarting her parents by signing a temporary contract to be Paul’s wife.
The arrangement was a two-year job she was utterly skilled at performing. She hadn’t dated anyone seriously since college, so when presented with a marriage that would end with six million in her account and a home—and her parents off her back—she took it. The only downfall Shannon foresaw at the time was if she’d met someone during her marriage and couldn’t act on it.
She didn’t expect that someone to be the man she was married to . . . and she didn’t expect to leave her marriage rich yet in shambles.
Shannon’s sellout had backfired.
At least that’s how she viewed her brief time as a political wife. That was, until she met the women in the First Wives Club. Lori, Trina, and Avery became the supportive sisters she needed. They didn’t judge her with condescending eyes, they understood her with loving hearts.
They lifted her up and gave her the courage to take an active step forward in her life.
She came out of hiding the year Lori pushed the four of them to take a Mediterranean cruise together. Her small wedding photography business had picked up, giving her purpose.
Shannon looked at the images of the fragmented Brooks wedding.
Flowers and finery . . . dressed up guests and grooms. She was good at wedding photography, but she’d be lying to herself if she said she had true passion for it.
Earning money for posed pictures was not what Shannon had studied in college.
In a way, she was still selling out.
Wedding photography was safe.
Marrying Paul had been safe.
Kissing a jilted groom, not safe at all.
She was tired of the safety net. Wasn’t that why she was considering a one-night stand in an effort to have a baby? Was it rebellion, or was she playing it safe to have a child alone in an effort to save her heart from breaking again?
Shannon powered down her computer, grabbed her camera bag, and locked the door behind her as she left.
Chapter Eighteen
Two weeks after his return from Tulum, the remaining bills from the wedding came due.
Victor ignored the mail for several days. When the weekend arrived and he sat in his home office taking care of his personal finances, he tore through