The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(59)

I lifted my head from his shoulder. “But—”

He pressed two fingers to my lips, interrupting me. “I love you, Hattie, and I think you still love me. That’s all I care about. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box.

My stomach flipped. “No, Evan. I can’t do this. Not right now.” I blinked, barely able to see through the haze of tears.

“Just listen.” Evan slid the ring on my finger, and I covered my face, refusing to look at him or the ring. “Here’s what I’m proposing with this ring.” I shook my head. “Hattie, please open your eyes.”

I sucked in a jagged breath and pried my eyes open. “Yes.”

“I hurt you. You need more time to get over what I did and what happened over the last few weeks.”

“I do.” I wiped the tears from my face.

“That’s fine, but in the meantime, I want you to wear this ring, and I want to announce our engagement.”

“Why?”

He slanted forward and leaned his forehead against mine. “Because I want everyone to know I’m standing by you through this, and so is my family.”

“I don’t care what other people think,” I protested halfheartedly.

“I do. I want people to see you as a survivor, not a victim.”

“What does this ring have to do with that?”

He scraped his chapped lips across mine, and I jerked my head back. I couldn’t be intimate with him. Not yet. Maybe never. This was so confusing.

“I need everyone, including you, to know I support you and love you no matter what.”

“Evan, I don’t want to rush into anything.”

He threaded his fingers through mine and lifted my hand to his lips, kissing the inside of my wrist. “We’re not rushing into anything. From the first moment I saw you, I knew I wanted to marry you. This ring symbolizes us taking control of our lives and doing what we should’ve done right after we graduated from college. We’re reclaiming our future…together.”

I wished it were that simple. I wanted it to be that simple. Evan offered me a way to push forward and recapture everything I’d lost. Ryker’s words floated through my mind.

“You’re going to meet Evan where Highway 307 intersects with the road leaving the villa. Then, you’re going to forget about me, about what happened between us, and you’re going to give Evan his second chance.”

I glanced out the window, staring sightlessly at the miles and miles of white sand and turquoise water. Evan didn’t push. He didn’t argue his case more than he had, but he didn’t need to. Ryker had done it for him.

“Okay.” A dull pain clawed up the walls of my chest and nausea churned in my gut. I agreed to give Evan a second chance. So what if the second chance included a marriage proposal. I had already lost Ryker—the only man I’d ever craved more than my next breath. He had burrowed under my skin and infiltrated my mind and heart. Did it matter who I spent my life with if it couldn’t be him?

A smile split Evan’s face. The old me would’ve drunk in the perfect symmetry of his face and smiled in response. The new me was dead inside, and working my lips into something resembling a smile seemed like too much effort. Would I ever shed the emptiness clinging to me like a shroud?

“Is that a yes?”

My throat constricted until I could barely suck in a breath, but I forced out my answer. “Yes.”

He leaned in to kiss me, and I turned my head to the side instead. This moment marked the beginning of the rest of my life. Less than a week ago, I didn’t know if I’d have a future. I should’ve been happy. Overjoyed. Why did everything still feel so bleak? Pointless?





Chapter Two




Hattie



Two Weeks Later…



My fingers tapping my thigh, I glared at the white stick taunting me from the marble countertop one foot in front of me.

One line?

Two lines?

One line?

Two lines?

My heart battered my ribcage from a combination of too much adrenaline and too much fear. How long did this take again? I scoured the instructions for the fifth time in as many minutes. Two more minutes, and then I’d know whether my stupidity in Mexico gave me the one thing I couldn’t explain away with silence or more lies: a baby.

I watched the clock on my phone, waiting for the additional one hundred and twenty seconds that crawled like one hundred and twenty hours to expire. When the clock moved from 7:32 to 7:34 a.m., I closed my eyes, bracing for the result.

Whatever happened when I opened my eyes, I’d deal with it. I didn’t have to make a decision right away. I had time. I had choices. I had resources. I blew out an exaggerated breath and pried my eyes open one at a time. With shaking hands, I lifted the white stick.

One line.

Thank God.

I wasn’t pregnant.

I settled onto the white tiled floor, my back pressed into the door still clutching the stick. Mindless tears tracked down my face, and for the first time since I got home, I felt like I could breathe. Really breathe.

I shoved my fist into my mouth to stifle the sobs gaining momentum second by second. Always conflicted. Relief warred with utter misery. I would’ve died a thousand soul-plundering deaths if I saw two lines, but one line eliminated the last connection I had with him. I couldn’t say his name. Ever. I couldn’t even think it. I’d tailspin into a chasm of melancholy before the second syllable of his name exited my mouth.