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She opened her mouth once more in a bid to
implore her sister to leave, but Betty saved her the trouble. She
grabbed a bag of oatmeal cookies from the cupboard, saluted Bobbi,
and disappeared up the back stairs.

Bobbi exhaled and headed for the foyer,
taking a moment to glance at herself in the large hall mirror.
She’d deliberately chosen something sedate and classy. A simple
deep blue cashmere turtleneck with three-quarter length sleeves,
coupled with simple black dress pants and plain black heels. A long
gold chain hung from her neck and small gold studs were at her
ears.

Her makeup was again, simple, with a dusting
of shadow and mascara, and clear gloss on her lips. She looked put
together and calm which was exactly how she wanted to look. Mostly
because it was the polar opposite of how she felt inside.

Could she fix this? Would Gerald listen to
her? She thought of her future. The one she’d planned so
meticulously—the one she wanted in spite of what she’d done—and
tried not to let the underlying panic bleed through.

The fact that he was coming to see her on his
first day back was a great sign, and she needed to focus on the
positive. She would fix this. She had too.

She paused at the door, her hand on the knob,
her heart beating just a tad too fast, and though she would have
loved a few more minutes to mentally prepare herself there was no
way around it. She squared her shoulders, opened the door, and
rested her eyes on the man she should be married to.

The man she
wanted
to marry.
Everything else was a mistake.

Bobbi cleared her throat and as she stared at
her fiancé in silence, she noticed a few things that were maybe, a
tad alarming. First off, his hair was a mess. Not a windblown kind
of thing either, but more like a controlled mess. From what Bobbi
could see, Gerald had more product in his hair that any woman had a
right to. It was sticking up in long spikes that would have looked
good on a teenager but on a man of thirty-five?

Not so much.

“Bobbi,” he said stonily.

Okay, his mood didn’t look promising and his
tone of voice left a lot to be desired but…

Wait. Was that an earring?

Bobbi’s fisted hand flew to her chest and she
hoped the weird noise she heard hadn’t actually come from her
mouth. She tried her best to keep the smile she had pasted to her
face when she’d opened the door. And it was a chore. She wanted to
frown in horror as her eyes crept back to—good god, there wasn’t
just one earring—there were two. And they weren’t studs. They were
hoops.

Gerald—the man who thought wearing jeans to
work on Fridays was slumming it—had hoops in his ears. Gold hoops
and not the delicate sort either. Ugh. They didn’t belong on any
man in his thirties, unless his name started with Jon and ended
with Jovi.

“Come in,” she managed to say and stepped
aside to give him room.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Oh,” Bobbi wasn’t quite sure what to expect,
but it sure as hell wasn’t that. Gerald never used slang. Ever.

Her eyes moved over his tall form.

And he certainly never wore jeans that had
holes in the knees.

Her eyes moved higher.

Or a leather jacket that looked more suited
to a motorcycle than winter in New Waterford.

Alarm bells rang in her head and she tried
desperately to swallow the huge lump in her throat.

And he certainly didn’t run around with the
top three buttons of his shirt undone. Definitely not without an
undershirt.

“Are you sure you don’t want to…”

But he was already shaking his head. “No. I
just came to get my ring.”

“Your ring,” Bobbi repeated. Okay, this
wasn’t going the way she had envisioned at all. “Gerald, honey,
don’t you think we should talk about,” she swallowed nervously,
“About what happened?”

His eyes hardened as he stared down at her in
silence. Gerald was kind and gentle and kind and…

His glare deepened and so did her discomfort.
Christ, the man’s favorite movie was March of the freaking
Penguins. What had she done to him?

“Please, Gerald. You have to let me explain.
Let me apologize.” She knew she sounded desperate but suddenly she
didn’t care. Gerald was part of her life plan and she couldn’t let
him slip away.

She had made a mistake dammit, and she was
willing to do whatever it took to make amends. She had to make him
see that.

“Please, Gerald.” She reached for him but he
moved back, his lips screwed up in distaste.

“What’s there to talk about? You didn’t show
up for our wedding. There is nothing else to say.”

Bobbi’s stomach twisted painfully and for a
moment she was lightheaded. She blew out a long breath as she
stared at the man she’d expected to, well, she hadn’t
expected
him to welcome her back with open arms, but
certainly she’d envisioned a calm conversation ending with Gerald
accepting her heartfelt apology for what she’d put him through and
for the two of them to move on.

Her life—the perfect, serene life—the one
with the white picket fence, two golden retrievers, maybe a cat,
and definitely no worries, was crumbling in front of her and the
panic mice were starting to nibble at her feet. “Gerald, I’m so
sorry for what I put you through. You have to believe me. I didn’t
mean to hurt you.”

“But you did,” he said roughly. He ran his
hands through the thick mess of hair on his head, though Bobbi
looked away when he got his fingers caught in the gelled waves and
he had to work to extract them.

“I made a mistake. I want to work through
this Gerald,” she tried again softly, hoping the underlying panic
she felt wasn’t seeping through.

“Last week I wanted to hear that. When I was
standing at the front of St. Paul’s fucking church—”

Bobbi winced. She couldn’t recall ever
hearing Gerald swear.

“And I knew you weren’t going to show, I
wanted to hear that.” Gerald’s face was a shade past plain old
pissed off. “In the hours afterward, between the twenty-five or
thirty phone calls I made to your cell? I damn well wanted to hear
that. Even when my mother convinced me it would be best to go away
without you…even then, I still needed to hear you say that, but now
it means nothing.”

“Gerald,” she whispered. “It means
everything.”

“Really,” he said sarcastically.

Bobbi took a few moments to try and gather
her thoughts but it was hard. Her stomach was a mess of knots and
she was suddenly flush and not feeling so great. Everything was
slipping away from her and she had no clue how to fix any of
it.

Why hadn’t the old Gerald showed up? The one
who would listen patiently and look at the argument from every side
and angle. The man who would think things over in a calm, logical
way and realize that sure, she’d screwed up—big time—but she
deserved a second chance. After all, they loved each other.

Right?

“Gerald, I can explain. You have to let me
explain.” She moved forward again and placed her hand on his
forearm.

Gerald shoved his now product coated fingers
into the front pockets of his jeans and scowled.
He actually
scowled at her
.

“This is what I know to be the true facts of
that night, Bobbi. While I stood at the front of the church,
waiting in front of our friends and family,” he leaned closer. “In
front of your father and your sisters including the crazy one, who,
I would like to add was higher than a kite.”

“That’s not true.”

Both Gerald and Bobbi glanced toward the
stairs. Betty stepped off the last one and—thank god—was
respectfully covered up in a pair of sweat pants and a tank
top.

“I wasn’t flying until much later,” Betty
continued with a wink before disappearing down the hall toward the
kitchen.

Gerald cleared his throat and nailed Bobbi
with a dark look. “The point is I was there. Waiting for you
because I wanted to marry you and where were you?”

His voice rose and Bobbi winced.

“You were in a bar three counties over with
Shane fucking Gallagher.” He stepped inside the house and she moved
back. “You spent the night,” he ground out, “Our wedding night with
that loser.”

His profanity bothered her and yet the thing
that twisted inside her was more to do with his attitude toward
Shane.

“Shane isn’t a loser,” she blurted out.

Gerald looked like he was going to blow his
top and wisely, Bobbi realized now was not the time to defend her
ex-boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered instead. There was
no use denying anything. The entire town knew what had happened
that night. Hell, Mrs. Beals, Shane’s neighbor, had watched her
leave his home clad in only a T-Shirt, clutching her ruined wedding
dress to her chest. That alone was as good as taking out an ad in
the freaking newspaper.

“I didn’t sleep with him, Gerald.”

“Not that I believe you, but even if I did it
doesn’t matter because I don’t care. You could have spent the
entire night engaging in all sorts of devious activities with
that…that criminal, but I don’t care. Not anymore.”

His words were like stones. They fell fast
and hard and Bobbi stood before him, smoothing invisible wrinkles
in her dress pants over her hips as her mind turned in circles,
looking for a way to salvage things.

“I’d like my ring back,” he said with his
hand held out. “It belongs in my family.”

“Oh,” Bobbi managed as she pulled it off her
finger. “Of course.”

Gerald slipped the ring into his pocket and
stepped outside. He paused for a moment, before leaving. “I’m sure
you understand that I need to replace you at the firm. So don’t
bother showing up for work tomorrow.”

And then he was gone.

Bobbi wasn’t sure how long she stared at the
closed door but it was long enough for Betty to fix herself a
peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Her sister ate it a few inches
away and when Bobbi glanced at her, for a moment she thought she
saw something other than the snotty,
I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anything look in her eyes.

If it was there, it was gone just as fast.
Betty stuffed the last bit of bread into her mouth and spoke,
barely managing to get the words out.

“Wow, dumped and fired in one shot. Bet you
didn’t see that one coming.”

By Friday, panic set in.

It was a full-on, paralyzing kind of panic.
The kind that held you frozen in place. The kind that kept you in
the shadows and made you forget things. Important things. Like
eating. Or sleeping. Or bathing.

She’d been fired. She’d been dumped. She had
nothing. She was twenty-five years old and her life was shit.

Bobbi shuddered as she drew a green and black
plaid blanket up over her hips and stared out the window into the
early evening gloom. She was in the family room and a fire burned
in the stone hearth, but she just couldn’t get warm. It was just
past five and Gramps was in the kitchen. He’d whipped up a large
pot of chili and though she was sure the aroma was mouth-watering,
it did nothing for Bobbi.

She was too depressed to eat. To down and out
to even think about taking one spoonful of Gramps delicious chili.
She listened to Betty giggle at something Gramps said and then she
heard her father’s answering laugh.

For one brief, bittersweet moment, she felt
light. Her father’s days were good this past week. Funny, her life
was down in the toilet and yet, he had rallied. His mind was good,
his eyes bright, and his appetite had returned.

She just wished she could enjoy it.

A sigh escaped her lips as she pushed her
tangled hair out of her eyes and watched—with disinterest—twin
beams of light cut through the thickening gloom outside. A black
truck pulled up behind Bobbi’s own modest car and the doors flew
open. Logan Forest and her sister Billie, stood together for a
moment, their bodies touching in the way that lovers did, hands
caressing a cheek, bones melting into flesh.

Her sister rose onto her tip toes and sank
her fingers into Logan’s hair. They kissed a long, lingering kiss
and his hands fell to Billie’s butt. He pulled her into him as the
two of them took their time to taste each other.

When Logan slowly let her sister slide
down--when he broke their kiss and claimed her hand inside
his—something twisted inside Billie. The emptiness of her bubble
was no more.

She was filled with something fierce and hot
and painful.

She bit her lip so hard that she drew blood
and when Billie and Logan entered the house, she turned away from
the foyer. She had seen enough. She didn’t need to see anymore.

“Hey.”

Shit. Guess Billie wasn’t on the same
page.

Bobbi turned, pasted a surprised look on her
face and attempted a lame smile.

“Hey yourself. What are you guys doing here?
Did you come for Gramps chili?”

Billie nodded. “Sure did. We’ve got a game at
eight and I just got off the ice with a bunch of girls, so we came
for carbs and then we’re heading back to the twin pads.”

Bobbi stared at her sister and hoped like
hell the jealous ball of pain inside her didn’t show.

Billie Jo had returned home from Europe the
previous fall, her career playing professional hockey over much too
soon. She’d been labeled injury prone and her last concussion had
pretty much signed her walking papers. For a woman who had
represented her country in two Olympic games and then played in the
men’s league in Sweden, it was a tough blow.

And yet, she’d bounced back. She had returned
home, conquered the local men’s hockey league and managed to find
love. Currently working her ass off running her very own hockey
training school, Billie Jo Barker had moved from displaced sports
hero, to up and coming business woman of the year.