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Katie is sitting on a bench in the showroom of her bridal store. Her long hair is tied up into a ponytail, revealing the soft contours of her jawline and cheekbones.
She looks peaceful and happy.
I’m guessing the baby swaddled in the pink blanket in her arms has everything to do with it.
She’s humming softly as the baby sleeps.
“Kate.” The woman who opened the door to the boutique calls out. “Someone is here to see you.”
She knows exactly who I am. She called me by name when she opened the door to let me in.
“You’re Gage Burke,” she drawled.
I heard the surprised disappointment in her voice.
“Who?” Katie’s head pops us, her eyes zeroing in on me immediately.
“Him.” The woman with the dark hair jerks her thumb at me.
“I hoped that you’d still be here.” I take a step closer to Katie. “I wanted to say something.”
“I’m busy.” She glances at the baby in her arms. “I’m having dinner with my friend.”
“Olivia Donato.” The woman next to me bumps her shoulder against my bicep. “I’m Kate’s friend. I’m one of her best friends.”
I sense a subtle threat woven into her words.
I glance at her. “It’s good to meet you, Olivia.”
She tosses me a look that tells me that I need to watch my step around Katie. It’s obvious that Olivia knows about our past.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” I say even though it’s a lie. “There’s something I’d like to discuss, Katie. If you let me know when you have time, I can come back.”
“She’ll call you,” Olivia says.
I look down at her. “She doesn’t have my number.”
Her eyes lock on mine. She studies my face carefully. “Do you have her number?”
“I’m swamped right now,” Katie interjects, rocking the baby in her arms. “We have new shipments coming in every day and we’re booked solid with appointments. I have to spend every second on work. I don’t have time right now to…”
“Give me your phone.” Olivia’s hand darts out.
I don’t ask what the hell is going on. I slide my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and drop it in her palm.
“What are you doing?” Katie struggles to get to her feet without waking the sleeping infant. “Olivia, don’t.”
Olivia’s fingers skim over the screen of my phone. They stop when she reaches the contact list.
She looks up at me, her eyes widening. “Is this Kate’s old number? This was her number in California?”
I glance down at my phone and the open tab on my contact list.
Katie.
The picture above her name is one I took the day after I asked her to marry me. We were at the beach. Katie’s blonde hair is wind kissed. Her cheeks are pink. The smile on her face exudes pure happiness.
The L.A. based ten-digit phone number below her name was disconnected five years ago.
