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Katie moves closer to where we’re standing. The expression on her face is unreadable.
Fuck. This can’t be easy for her. I didn’t leave her because I loved another woman, but still, she was left with a wedding dress and no groom to exchange vows with.
“Myles told me that you talked to him.” Annalise wrings her hands together in front of her. The left is missing her massive engagement ring. “You told him to be honest with me, didn’t you?”
“I told him to be honest with himself.” I lock eyes with Katie. “I have some experience with that.”
Annalise’s gaze volleys between Katie and I. “I want a man who looks at me the same way you look at Kate. That’s what I’m waiting for.”
“You’ll find it,” I assure her.
“I hope you two know how lucky you are.” She looks to Katie before her eyes land on me. “One day you’re going to make beautiful babies together.”
A pained sound escapes Katie as her hands dart to her face.
Her knees give out, but I’m on her before she reaches the floor. I scoop her into my arms and carry her to a bench.
“I’m going to go,” Annalise whispers somewhere behind us.
Katie sobs into my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Gage. I’m so sorry.”
For what? What the fuck does this woman have to be sorry for?
“No,” I whisper as I hold her against me. “I’m sorry. I’m the one who fucked up the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers.
“Katie.” I cup my hands around her face, forcing her to look at me. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Her bottom lip trembles as she stares into my eyes. “Please forgive me.”
“For what?” I spit out as tears cloud my vision.
What the fuck is going on?
Her voice is strangled as it leaves her lips. “I lost our baby, Gage. It’s my fault that our baby died.”
Chapter 51
Kate
Fear has more power in the darkness than in the light.
My mom only said that to me once. It was six weeks after I arrived in Manhattan.
I had called her in a panic one afternoon. She thought I was crying about Gage. She told me that she knew that I was scared about the next steps in my life, but that I’d make it through if I tackled it head-on.
She was offering advice about my broken heart, but I was facing something life-changing.
My heart was still aching from the loss of my fiancé, but in a free clinic, three blocks from my apartment on the Upper West Side, a doctor with a graying beard and a thick Scottish accent told me that I was going to be a mom.
I’d missed my period.
I didn’t notice at first, but when it dragged into the next month and I realized that I hadn’t bought tampons since I moved to New York, I knew something wasn’t right.
I attributed it to not eating right, or stress.
I expected to walk out of the clinic with a stern warning about taking better care of myself.
