The woman I love, the woman I'm supposed to marry, just told someone on the phone that she's pregnant, and she hasn't said a fucking word to me about it.
Why wouldn't she tell me? Unless she knows that I’ll wonder whether this is real, whether she really wants me or just needs me to provide for her and the baby.
My chin falls, and I press my palms against the tile as the water streams down my back. I want her to come to me. I want her to walk in here right now and tell me the truth. To look me in the eye and say,Frost, I’m sorry I should’ve told you sooner. I’m pregnant.
I want her to give me the chance to tell her it doesn't matter. I love her with all my heart, and I'd marry her anyway. Above all, I’d love her and our child with my entire being.
I wait to see if she comes in to confess. Hope doesn’t come in, though. What happens if I ask her and she lies? What if I ask and she tells me she was going to tell me after the wedding, or that she only said yes because of the baby?
Instead of going out to confront her, I continue to stand here, under the water, while my heart shatters.
CHAPTER 8
HOPE
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, reaching for it, I frown when I see who it is.
“It's the florist,” I explain. “I should take this.”
“Go ahead. I'm gonna grab a shower.” Frost swings his legs out of bed. “Wash off the rest of the plague.”
My stomach still feels like it’s going to rebel when I hit the button on the screen.
I take a deep breath, willing it to settle down. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Hope Webster?” a woman asks, her voice bright and chipper. Too chipper to someone who spent half the night puking.
“This is Hope.”
“This is Danielle from Blooms. I'm calling about your wedding order for Valentine’s Day.”
My heart does a little flip. “Yes? Is everything okay?”
There's a pause that makes my stomach drop for entirely different reasons than food poisoning.
“Well, that's actually why I'm calling. I'm so sorry, but we're not going to be able to fulfill your order.”
I sit up too fast, and my head spins. “What?”
“It's Valentine's Day weekend, and we're completely overbooked. We took on too many orders, and with the holiday rush, we just ca?—”
“Don’t you dare say you can’t.”
“I'm so sorry. We should have realized sooner, bu?—”
“You're calling me a few days before my wedding to tell me you can't do my flowers?” My voice cracks. “I ordered those flowers six weeks ago.” I'm standing now, pacing, my hands shaking. “Six weeks… You confirmed everything. You took my deposit. Yo?—”
“I know, and we're issuing a full refund, of cour?—”
“I don't want a refund. I want my flowers! I'm getting married in three days.” I glance at the bathroom door, thankful the water is running, and Frost can’t hear my freak out.
“I understand you're upset.” She sighs. “Unfortunately, these things happen sometimes.”
“Upset?” I laugh, and it sounds a little unhinged. “I spent last night throwing up everything I've eaten in the past week. I feel like I got hit by a truck, and now you're telling me I'm not going to have flowers at my wedding?”
“These things happen with rush weddings,” Danielle says, and there's something in her tone that sounds awfully like judgment. “Is there a reason you needed to get married so quickly? Are you... pregnant?”
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it with blind rage. The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity of this woman.
