Chapter Twenty-Six
Two Weeks After Claire & Dean’s Wedding
Velma sat at her desk and checked her cell phone. No voice mails. Despite Brek’s cease-and-desist request, she continued calling him every night.
A week had passed, and he still didn’t answer. A little twinge of pain hit every time she got his voice mail. The delete icon was likely his favorite button these days, and he probably didn’t even listen to the messages.
Her gut said to keep calling, so she did.
“Velma?” The receptionist’s voice came through her desk phone.
Velma pushed the talk button. “Yes?”
“Dean asked to meet you in the conference room.”
“Oh. Okay,” she replied.
They’d been working on a proposal for a new client this week. She headed to the conference room and pushed open the door. Claire sat beside him, with Aspen on a chair to her right, baby in her arms. Pam sat to his left, with Jase beside her.
Velma had been ambushed. Crud, she didn’t have time for this.
“Pull up a chair.” Dean pointed to the chair beside Aspen.
“What’s up?” Velma asked, suspicion continuing to rise in her blood. Cautious, she sat and crossed her legs under her black pencil skirt.
“Here, would you hold him?” Aspen plopped the baby right into Velma’s arms.
“What?” Velma glanced to the squishy bundle of snuggles.
Oh, hello. She inhaled the scent of baby powder.
“Now she won’t run,” Aspen said, clearly proud of her ingenuity.
“Run from what?” Velma did the bounce thing that came naturally when holding a baby. “And why do you all look so guilty?”
“Well…here’s the thing…” Jase grimaced.
Pam and Aspen didn’t meet her gaze.
“Anyone going to tell me what’s going on or should I just hang out with Bronson?” Velma asked, looking down to admire his teeny-tiny nose.
“We’ve decided it’s time for you to stop sulking.” Dean leaned forward, elbows on the desk.
She ran a fingertip across Bronson’s chunky cheek. “I’m not sulking.”
Sad, yes, but that’s because she felt like her heart had been ripped out and put back in upside down.
“Claire says you don’t eat.” Pam slid a paper grocery sack across the table toward Velma.
“It’s true,” Claire chimed in. “I saw your fridge. And your cupboards. There’s no food.”
All right, well, she hadn’t had much of an appetite since Brek took off.
“I eat. Is that why you came here, to tell me not to skip lunch?” Velma raised her eyebrows at the paper bag and glanced back to Pam.
“You’ve lost weight,” Jase accused.
Well, yes. One of the byproducts of heartache was apparently dropping a pant size. All those years of dieting, and in reality, she only needed to get her heart crushed. “Is that a bad thing?”
