Or perhaps it’s karma finally come to collect. It would serve him right.
“Honey.” Vittoria clutches his arm tight as she bends over and fake gags.
“Shit.” Jared crouches down, concern etched all over his face. “What can I do?”
She dry retches, her face turning pale, and all the blood leaches from my skin.
“Can we go?” she pleads, stumbling against him like her gangly giraffe legs are about to go out from under her.
“Of course.” Jared looks over at me as he props his fiancée up, holding a firm arm around her shoulders as he tucks her protectively into his side. “Could you arrange for Francesca to email the paperwork to my assistant? She has my business card.”
“No problem.” A lump rises in my throat.
“Please keep secret,” Vittoria says, resting her head on Jared’s chest as she pins me with a smug look. “No one knows about baby.” She palms her flat stomach, confirming my suspicion, and something inherent dies inside me. “Or we bought house in Florence to raise family.”
She might as well have taken a chainsaw to my heart.
It would probably hurt less.
Somehow, I force myself to nod as I clutch my locket and desperately try to hold myself together. At least until they leave and I can break down in private. Standing rooted in place, I watch Jared lovingly cradle his pregnant fiancée against his chest and escort her out the door with a stabbing pain in my heart.
ChapterEleven
Jared
After helping Toria into the back seat of the chauffeured car, I slide in beside her and ask the driver to crank the AC to the max. Grabbing my backpack off the floor where I left it, I remove the ginger biscuits, paper bag, and a bottle of water. “Here,” I say as my girlfriend lies down on the seat, resting her head on my lap. “Tor, you need to sit up and wear your seat belt.”
“Sick,” she mumbles, clutching her stomach and dry heaving.
“It’s not safe,” I admonish, gently lifting her into a seated position and strapping the belt around her. Traffic is crazy in the city, not helped by the influx of crowds who have descended on Florence for the awards ceremony tomorrow night. “Lean against me,” I suggest as I hand her the paper bag. I hate seeing her so sick, and it seems almost constant since we found out she’s pregnant a month ago. I don’t know who coined the phrase morning sickness, but it's woefully inadequate. Try all-morning and all-night sickness, and it would be more accurate. At least in Toria’s case.
She’s not handling it well. I’m doing my best to help, but I haven’t been around much. That will end with our last show in five weeks, and then I’ll have more time to take care of her.
I rub her back as she dry retches into the bag. She hasn’t eaten anything today, and this can’t be good for the baby. We have three days at home in the US, after the awards show, before the last leg of the tour kicks off again, and I plan to see her ob-gyn and demand he do something to help her. Toria has never been a big eater, but lately it’s a joke.
“I fucking hate this,” she says in her heavily accented tone, leaning her head against my shoulder and snatching the water from my hand.
I offer her the ginger cookies, but she shakes her head.
“It won’t last forever. Most women’s nausea ends after the first trimester.” I’ve been reading a pregnancy book I bought online in my downtime. It would be helpful if I could ask my mother or my sister for advice, but Mum and Heather despise Toria, and I’m waiting until the last possible moment to break the news to them.
Which reminds me.
“You shouldn’t have mentioned anything about the baby at the gallery,” I say, rubbing her back. I don’t think Sydney would say anything to anyone, but it’s clear I don’t know her anymore. When she wasn’t acting indifferent, I didn’t miss the hostile looks thrown my way. Or the way all the color drained from her face when Toria blabbed about the baby.
What the fuck right does Syd have to look at me like I’m her worst enemy? If anyone has a right to play that card, it’s me. I’d like to say, after ten years, I’m over her betrayal, but it would be a lie.
Sydney Shaw stuck her claws in me as a young kid, and I’ve got the scars to prove it. Hurt scores my chest as I think of her, and how amazing we were together, like always. I still don’t understand why or how it all went wrong. Why she did what she did. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. As long as I live, I’ll carry that pain with me.
I was willing to give her everything.
I laid it all on the line, and she lied to me.
Broke my heart without a second thought.
She was right when she said that girl was gone.
I learned that lesson the hard way.
