by Nadia Lee
Naturally. “What time is it?”
“Around five a.m.,” Mark answered.
“Jeez. Go home and get some rest. I’m fine. Just conked my head. I’ve done it before and survived. I’m sure I’ll survive this time.” He swallowed. He had to get them out of there. Immediately. “Please.”
Dane shrugged. “Let’s go. It’s not like we have the medical expertise to do anything.”
“He has a concussion. He needs us with him,” Vanessa said.
Dane looked at her, then at Shane, then back at her. “What does Barron think about you being out at this hour?”
“Barron? Who cares? Just because he’s Justin’s great uncle doesn’t mean he gets to tell me what to do.”
“And the fact that you’re carrying his heir in your belly right now…”
“Has nothing to do with anything!”
Dane cocked an eyebrow and pulled out his phone. “Let’s test that theory, shall we?”
“Argh! You are such a jerk!” Vanessa stormed out.
“Everyone, out. Let him rest in peace,” Dane said, herding everyone away from the bed and toward the door.
When he was alone, Shane closed his eyes and placed a hand over them. Everything had come back to him. How he and Ginger had met. All their amazing firsts. And the engagement…
He’d hesitated for so long before proposing. He hadn’t been sure if he could be the kind of man who deserved a woman like Ginger. But he hadn’t been able to give her up either. He’d told himself he could just improve. Become a man worthy of her by making her the happiest woman in the world because there was no way he would ever fall out of love with her.
“I couldn’t love you more if my life depended on it,” he’d told her, opening the ring box.
Instead, he’d hurt her.
Those fucking photos…
Shane tapped his fingers on the table as an expert studied each picture with care. He hadn’t seen anything that hinted that they were fake, but he’d probably missed something. Some people were just that damn good at Photoshop.
“If these were photoshopped, it’s a very good job,” the expert said, scratching his jaw. “I’m not saying they’re one hundred percent authentic either, but…” He pushed all the pictures back across the table. “I’d consider them authentic.”
Shane’s hand tightened into a fist. The man had to be mistaken. Even doctors screwed up now and then. “Thanks for your time,” he said tautly and paid the man. Shane slipped the pictures into his jacket pocket and got up. He’d prove that man wrong. Then come back and tell him so.
A second opinion…then a third…fourth…fifth…sixth…
Everyone said the same thing the first man did: the photos were authentic. And they all added a caveat to cover their asses in case they were wrong—“there’s a small chance…”—but it always came with a but.
But they were authentic.
Well maybe they were. And maybe there were good reasons why she was draped all over those other men. She might have been dizzy at that time. Or tired. Women did that all the time, right?
Ginger had no idea about the photos. Shane considered talking to her about them, just get the whole confrontation out of the way. But he couldn’t. Every time he tried to talk about the matter, his throat would close up. If he showed the photos to her…maybe she’d tell him the same thing all those damned experts had told him—they were real.
He had to leave for a while. Go somewhere far, far away so he could be alone and get some perspective. Staying in L.A. was torture—and he wasn’t as good an actor as his father. He couldn’t put his arms around his fiancée and fake a smile while wondering about the damned pictures.
Tears trickled down from under his hand. He was the biggest fucking failure in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ginger got up at around nine, feeling incredibly well-rested. There was a scent of coffee in the air. She stretched, grinning, and went to the kitchen. “Hey, early bird. Mind if I steal some?”
“Go ahead,” Debbie said from the couch, her voice listless.
Ginger brought her coffee to the living room and sat next to her best friend. Debbie had a blanket wrapped around her, and she was staring into the middle distance. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. I know something’s up. Tell me.”
She sighed. “It’s Shane.”
Ginger almost spat out her coffee. Crap. Debbie had been threatening to confront him and beat him up for a while now. “What happened?”
“He came over.”
When she didn’t continue, Ginger said, “When?” Sometimes it required two mules and a wagon hitch to pull information out of Debbie, especially when she was in a funk.
“Last night after you went to sleep.” Debbie sighed again.
Ginger rolled her wrist. “Annnnd?”
“I spoke to him in the stairwell.”
“About what?” she said, when her friend didn’t continue.
“The photos.” Debbie blinked away tears. “Please don’t be mad, but it just infuriated me when he showed up and acted all normal. Like he didn’t destroy you with the things he did. So I set him straight. Told him everything.”
Ginger licked her dry lips. “Including my…” She couldn’t say the word. “The thing that happened in Amsterdam?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god…” Ginger put her hands on her cheeks. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Why shouldn’t he know? It was his baby too, and he should suffer—assuming he’s even capable.”
“There was no point in hurting him, Debbie,” she said. “It’s in the past. What could I accomplish by letting him know now?”
“I wanted him to suffer, too. It’s not fair that you’re the only one who had to deal with the whole thing.”
Ginger hugged her friend, touched by Debbie’s fierce protectiveness. Guilt pricked her heart—she’d burdened her friend with so much.
“Anyway.” Debbie cleared her throat. “I told him. I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know.”
“Okay, well… How did he react?”
“He, um, sort of sank to his knees and fell over.”
“What? Did he fall down or something?”
“Uh, yeah.” Debbie bit her lower lip. “All the way down the stairs. One full flight.”
“Oh my god.” At least her unit was on the second floor. Shane would be bruised, but he should be all right.
“I totally panicked.” Debbie twisted her hands in front of her.
Debbie talked big and cocky, but she’d grown up in a moneyed, privileged environment. Seeing something like that would’ve been traumatizing. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not the one who fell down the stairs.” Debbie sighed. “There was blood.”
Ginger’s heart stopped. “What?”
“He… I think he hit his head. It was matted with blood by the time I reached him.”
“No!” Ginger jumped to her feet. Her mind blanked except for the image of Shane lying in his own blood. “Do you know which hospital they took him to?”
“Yeah, but Gin—”
“He’s my fiancé.” She threw on a shirt and shorts, then pulled her hair into a ponytail. “I want to make sure he’s okay. You should’ve woken me up.”
“I didn’t want to bother you. You were so tired you slept through the siren.”
Ginger shook her head. She’d been suffering from insomnia for the last few days, but that didn’t mean she was okay finding out about Shane just now. “Which hospital?”
Debbie told her. Ginger grabbed her keys and rushed out.
* * *
Shane was in a private wing. Ginger hurried along the antiseptic corridors until Vanessa abruptly stepped in front of her.
“What are you doing here?”
Being in her second trimester hadn’t seemed to slow her down. Shane’s younger sister was immaculately dressed in a sleek black and red dress and a pair of f
ashionable stilettos—the baby bump barely showing. “I’m here to see Shane, of course.”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“Um… I’m sorry?”
“I just find it strange he was injured in your apartment building. He doesn’t have any friends there.”
“He came by to see me, but I was asleep.”
“Oh really?” Vanessa folded her arms. “So how did you find out?”
“A friend told me. She happened to be staying at my place last night.”
“She?” Vanessa arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Ginger clenched her hands. “What are you implying?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. I can’t make any sense out of what’s going on between the two of you. What I know for certain is that you hurt him, Ginger. I’ve never seen him like this before. If this is supposed to be true love, why are you causing him this pain?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Ginger said. “Please. I need to talk to him.”
“No way.”
A familiar-looking man came into the corridor and put an arm around Vanessa’s stiff shoulder. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you were going to get some snacks for the junior.” He put a hand on her belly.
Ginger’s eyes widened as it clicked—this was Justin, Vanessa’s husband.
“I was, until I saw her.”
Justin gave Ginger a warm smile. “Shane’s inside, but you might not want to visit for too long. He hasn’t been resting well, and he’s moody and irritable.”
“Thank you.” She dashed past as Vanessa was opening her mouth to protest. She had to see Shane.
* * *
“Why are you so confrontational?” Justin asked, handing Vanessa a cup of low-fat yogurt and a spoon at the hospital cafeteria.
“She just makes me mad.” Vanessa devoured the yogurt. She was starving…again. Even though she was snacking all the time, she hadn’t gained much weight yet. Some of her friends had said she would blow up like a blimp after she had the baby. It was apparently known to happen.
“But she’s Shane’s fiancée. I don’t know if their relationship is something you want to get involved in too much. You remember how mad you were when Barron got heavy-handed?”
“Well…yeah. But this is different. Think about it—nothing about her and Shane adds up! Mom thinks it’s strange too, but she’s too busy with the divorce.” Vanessa had been against it at first, but now she agreed with her mother’s decision. She’d never seen Ceinlys so relaxed. On the other hand, Salazar had turned into a brittle shell of his former self. “If my parents can go their separate ways and be happier for it after decades of marriage, I think Shane and Ginger can do the same thing now, rather than later after the ceremony. I’d hate to see them stay together just out of stubbornness, or because they’re, you know, used to being a couple, not because that’s what they truly want.”
“Shane’s a pretty smart guy. I’m sure he’ll do the right thing.”
“But Ginger?” Vanessa sighed. “I tried to view everything positively. No really, I tried. Stress isn’t good for the baby, right? And I might have been wrong about what we saw back in winter. But to somebody like her, Shane’s a great catch. Rich, handsome, smart—like you said. And the same age, so she can get the money without having to put up with some rich old geezer. I just feel a little cynical.” She pursed her lips. “And now I feel bad for being cynical.”
“Baby, it’s okay. You’re protective of the people you love, and the pregnancy hormones are just making everything seem worse than it is.”
She put her spoon down next to the now empty cup, which Justin tossed into the trash. “I saw Shane cry.”
“When?”
“Last night. I went back because I forgot my phone in his room. I tiptoed in, thinking he was asleep, but he was crying.”
“Did he see you?”
She shook her head. “He had a hand over his eyes. He looked so hurt, I started to tear up too, and left before he noticed me. I didn’t want to injure his pride on top of everything else.” She blinked rapidly.
Justin put a comforting hand on her arm. “Hey, you did the right thing.”
“I just can’t help but think it’s got something to do with Ginger.”
“Listen,” he said. “If she’s really that bad for Shane, then I will personally see to it that she never bothers him again. Would that put your mind at ease?”
Vanessa stood up, ready to go back to Shane’s room. “You’d really do that for me?”
“That’s the least of what I’d do for you.” Rising to his feet, Justin kissed her gently. “Now, can I get you to wear some sensible shoes? Those heels look great, but they also make me nervous with you pregnant and tottering around like that.”
She scoffed. “Tottering? Whatever. I can still outrun you, four months pregnant and in heels.”
He bent and swept her up off the floor, eliciting an eek! He kissed her on the mouth and started carrying her toward Shane’s room. “Go ahead and try.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ginger stepped inside the private room. It was big, more like a luxury hotel than a hospital, with a TV and a game console, and its own private bathroom. There were a few vases and pots of flowers to liven things up.
Still, like other hospital rooms, it had only one visitor’s chair.
Shane was in the middle of the bed. There was a huge bruise on his right temple, its darkness stark against his unusually pale complexion. His eyes were closed, and a needle was stuck into his lean forearm. Machines next to him beeped and pinged, monitoring and recording his vitals. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked this awful. All their time together, he’d always been the pillar of strength and incredible health.
How badly had he been hurt?
“Vanessa?” he rasped, opening his eyes. Then he stilled as his gaze focused. “Ginger.”
“Hi.” She swallowed and approached him. “I heard you came by.”
His face softened for a moment like the time he’d proposed to her. Then he looked away.
She wiped her suddenly clammy hands on her shorts. “Um. How are you feeling?”
“Like a jackass.” When he faced her again, his eyes were no longer soft. They glinted like a naked blade. “Why are you here?”
“I heard you hurt yourself. I’m sorry. Debbie didn’t mean to, and—”
“If you’re worried about your friend, don’t. I never mentioned her or you.” His jaw clenched. “How long were you going to hide it from me?”
Her lower lip trembled. “I…” She brought her unsteady hands together. Fresh sweat slickened her palms. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Didn’t you think I should’ve been told? It was my child too.”
“It’s been almost a year. What could change by telling you? It would’ve only hurt you.”
“You should’ve wanted to hurt me!” He hurled one of the vases at the wall facing her.
The delicate crystal shattered, the bouquet of bright red roses exploding. Ginger cried out.
“If you didn’t want me to comfort you, you should’ve at least wanted to hurt me just as much as I hurt you!” Veins stood out in his forehead.
“You didn’t remember.”
“But you didn’t know at that time, did you? You thought I’d betrayed you.”
The door to the room opened, and Iain rushed in. “Are you okay?” he said, then saw Ginger and Shane and the broken vase and scattered flowers.
“Get out!” Shane said. “Get out and don’t let anybody come in until we’re done!”
Iain nodded once and left, closing the door behind him.
Shane drew in a shuddering breath. “You didn’t even say you were pregnant when you came to see me in Johannesburg. Did you think I was a monster?”
“I was in shock,” she said, her voice shaking. “I couldn’t even speak once I realized you were with another woman. All I could think was that it was over. I regained some o
f my composure back at my hotel, but by then it was too late. I didn’t think you’d open the door again. And it wasn’t like a woman needs to be married to have a child, right? I thought I’d raise it on my own and let you and your family know later. It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t even want child support.”
His face turned bloodless. He bit his lower lip, which just began shaking.
“Then I started to cramp and lost the baby.” She hugged herself, her vision blurring with tears. The flight had been atrocious. Her belly had twisted all day, and she’d just assumed she’d eaten something bad. But when she sat down to pee, she’d started hemorrhaging. There had been so much blood, and she couldn’t even make a sound from the pain shooting through her womb.
A cabin attendant knocked on the lavatory door. “Hello?” came a male voice. “We’re about to land. Please return to your seat and fasten your seat belt.”
Ginger gasped. Her hair stuck to her sweaty face, and she pressed her hand against her opening, willing the baby to stay inside. More hot blood gushed down. “C-can’t,” she panted.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?”
“I’m bleeding.”
“Ma’am?”
“My baby. I think I’m losing my baby.” Oh no, no, no.
A female cabin attendant unlocked the door from the outside and slipped in. Her hand flew to her mouth as she took in the scene. She immediately went outside. And everything else was a blur until Ginger opened her eyes at a hospital.
“My baby?” she whispered at the first nurse who came to check in on her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, genuine concern coming through despite a heavy accent. “I’m so sorry.”
Ginger covered her mouth to stifle a sob.
Tears glistened in Shane’s eyes. “I should’ve known. I should’ve been there.”
“Don’t think about it anymore. I’ve come to peace with it.” Debbie had helped. Her mother had also had a few miscarriages, and she’d done everything she could to comfort Ginger while they were in Amsterdam.
Babies are heaven’s gift. Sometimes the gods feel sad about life’s suffering and take them back before they reach this world. It’s never about you or your circumstances. Your baby’s back in heaven, sound and happy. When it’s your time, you’ll see him. Or her. And they’ll recognize you and love you because you’re the only person they’ve been intimately connected to.