“I did. I also heard whatyousaid.” There’s something close to respect in the way he looks at me. He lowers his voice. “I never liked her either, back when Caleb was dating her. She’s an ugly piece of work.”
My eyes widen. “I doubt anyone’s ever called her ugly before.”
He shrugs, nonchalant.
We’ve reached Caleb now. I can’t help but ask, “How could you have dated her? She seems all wonderful on TV, but in real life . . .” I shudder.
Caleb scratches the back of his head. “Honestly, I was mostly looking for a drinking partner. I wish I had a deeper answer, but that was it.”
I shoot him a disappointed stare and mutter under my breath, “Men!” Sometimes I think they really are from Mars.
We climb into the car and shut the doors against the clamor of shouting reporters and fans.
Caleb rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Gwen’s going to see that photo, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is.” I won’t sugarcoat it. It may be unfair to blame Caleb for things he did before he met Gwen, but I’m weirdly disgruntled right now. Somehow, I expected better from him.
He leans his head against the headrest with a quiet “Shoot.”
The car fills with silence until Dean says, “Gwen’s pretty reasonable. She’ll probably understand…” The words die in his throat when he sees the doubtful looks on both Caleb’s and my faces.
Outside the window, snow falls lightly to the ground.
7
Tuesday, December 10
14 days until the wedding
Gwen
That flight took forever,” Wayne grumbles as we exit the plane. He winces, rubbing his neck.
“I’m surprised you noticed, since you slept the entire time.” Rising onto my toes, I peer over the crowd in front of me, searching for a bathroom. I spy one ahead. “Hang on. I’ve got to stop. I drank three iced teas back in New York.”
“Me too,” says Alvina.
Together, we duck into the restroom. After a few minutes, we come out.
Wayne’s waiting right by the exit. “Okay, ladies,” he says in an overly bright tone that immediately makes me suspicious. “Baggage claim is this way. Hurry up.” He takes my elbow in one hand and Alvina’s in the other and drags us along, which is odd because Wayne doesn’t usually initiate touching.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my feet stumbling over each other as I attempt to keep up with him.
“Nothing!” His voice is high and harried. He tightens his death grip on my arm and tugs me forward.
“Wayne.” I pull back, wrenching my arm out of his grasp. “What are you doing? Why the rush?” I take in his agitated expression, wondering why he’sacting so weird.
A television screen at Gate 11 catches my eye. It shows a photo of Caleb, a head shot from his movie-star days. Drawn like a magnet, I wander toward it.
“Gwen, wait,” Wayne says from behind me, a warning in his tone. “I don’t think you want to see that.”
“What do you mean?” I ask over my shoulder, stepping closer to the TV. “They’re talking about Caleb. Of course I want to see.”
I can hear the announcer’s voice now. He says, “These photos taken earlier today have the Internet buzzing.” The image changes to a photo of Caleb. He’s outside on a patio with twinkling Christmas lights strung from tree to tree until they make a canopy over his head. A light snow is falling. Snowflakes land in Caleb’s hair. They dust his shoulders and gather on the collar of his jacket.
The man continues, “As we all know, Caleb Lawson is currently engaged to Dr. Gwen Wright, but now everyone’s wondering if that couple will make it to the altar.”
In the photo, Caleb’s not alone. A woman with long black hair and curves for days stands before him, her hands on his cheeks. My mind stutters, unwilling to grasp what I’m seeing. My mouth falls open and an unintentional whimper comes out, the sound of an injured animal.
