Her pregnant stomach.
My mouth goes dry, my heart giving a not-so-little lurch.
A little over two years since we’ve separated and he’s already replaced me and begun the family I wanted.
I pull my gaze from her to find Brad watching me, his expression blank.
I force myself to lift my head in a silent acknowledgement.
He does the same before turning to his wife and whispering in her ear.
Their whirlwind romance had been splashed across the cover of Vogue—their wedding extensively covered by all the gossip magazines. They’d met a week after our divorce—or so they claimed—and fallen into a whirlwind romance that had culminated with Brad proposing under the sunset in Tuscany.
It seemed his second wife got the trip I’d always dreamed of.
I need to go.
“Now raise a toast,” Pete calls as I turn away from the toasting crowd, tears blurring my vision. “To my soon-to-be wife, and the beautiful birthday girl. Our gorgeous, generous, wonderful Bess!”
I down my wine in one gulp, then shove the glass at Josh before blindly moving through the crowd, powering toward the exit. Single-minded in my purpose, I fail to see the waiter crossing my path.
“Watch ou?—!”
A hand grips my arm, wrenching me back against a hard chest. The waiter wavers, his arm swaying frantically from side to side as he tries to stop the glasses on his tray from crashing to the floor.
Around us, the crowd claps, blissfully unaware of my imminent breakdown.
Steadying the tray, the waiter looks over at me, a relieved smile on his face.
“That was close!”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, jerking out of Josh’s grip. “I’m such a klutz.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The waiter offers me the tray. “Drink?”
“Oh no, thank you. I’m just about to leave.”
Josh plucks one of the glasses from the tray to shove in to my hand. He then takes another for himself.
I have no idea what he’s done with our previous glasses.
“Thank you.” He nods to the waiter, dismissing him.
I dance from foot to foot, frowning up into Josh’s fiercely dark eyes.
“I have to?—”
“Don’t give them the satisfaction,” he growls, low and angry.
“Excuse me?”
He jerked his head toward Brad. “I know her, she’s a nice girl, but this show is a production. They’re watching you. They’re waiting for a moment they can use to rub your face in it. He wants to be seen as the victim, or the bad boy whose been redeemed by the love of a good woman. Don’t give him the victory.”
The heart of my blush sears away my tears.
“Don’t you think I know that?” I ask, stepping closer and lowering my voice. “That doesn’t make this any easier.”
Josh shakes his head. “I’m surprised you still love him after all he’s done.”
