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I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but somehow, seeing everything so neat and organized made me feel worse. I looked through the drawers next, not looking for anything in particular, but stopped cold when I opened the drawer nearest the fridge and found a stack of bridal magazines staring back at me. Jack had obviously gathered up the glossy-paged mags and stuck them in the catch-all drawer. I wondered what he thought about when he rounded them up. Had he flipped through them? Had he felt regret? Remorse? Anything at all?
I slammed the drawer shut only to yank it back open a second later. I grabbed the magazines and stormed over to the pantry. I chucked the whole stack of them into the recycling bin and slammed the lid shut. My fingers itched, wanting to drag them back out and tear and shred and crumple. It was stupid. I knew it even as I reached into the bin and grabbed the first one.
I carried it out to the kitchen island, staring at the beautiful bride on the cover. She was wearing an impeccable dress, cream chiffon with delicate, sheer cap sleeves and breathtaking beadwork. Her long, dark hair was pulled away from her face, probably to highlight the ridiculous amounts of diamonds strung around her neck and dangling at her ears.
It was her smile that did me in. In reality, I knew she was a model. Some woman paid to play the part of the starry-eyed bride for the day. But I didn’t care. The glint in her eyes and perfect makeup and flowing bouquet were all it took to push me over the edge.
I tore.
I ripped.
I screamed.
I cried.
I didn’t stop until every last page of the magazine was reduced to confetti all over the kitchen counter and floors. Each piece was shredded into a hundred tinier pieces until there was nothing left of the woman on the cover or any of the contents of the thick magazine.
I had half a dozen papercuts, my eyes were swollen with tears, and my hands shook as the rage and anger and despair coursed through me.
When there was nothing left but the spine and the pieces, I sank to the floor, surrounded by the destruction, and sobbed. Somewhat subconsciously, I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my cell phone. I swiped away my tears long enough so I could see as I found Carly’s number and pressed Call.
She answered on the second ring. “Hey, Holly! How ya feeling, girl?”
I sniffled loudly. “I’m—um—not so good. Can you—if you’re free—I’m at the house…I just can’t be alone right now.”
“I’m on my way! Stay there!” Carly said, her voice flooded with concern.
I nodded and laid my head back against the cupboards.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
19
Holly
Carly came through the door minutes after my frantic, tear-fueled phone call. Hunter ran, barking his head off, to greet her and she appeared in the kitchen half a minute later, her eyes wide and concerned. “Holly, honey, what’s the…” Her words trailed off as she looked around me at the tiny pieces of the magazine. She sank down beside me and draped an arm over my shoulders. My head slid down to rest on her shoulder. “You wanna talk about it?”
I sucked in a ragged breath. “I thought I was okay,” I started, stopping to laugh at how idiotic the statement seemed. Okay people don’t viciously attack innocent magazines. Then again, I supposed it could have been worse. I could have started chucking the pricey dishes I’d insisted we buy when we returned home.
“Honey, you don’t have to be okay,” Carly replied. “No one expects you to bounce back from such a breakup and be totally fine. Why are you putting that pressure on yourself?”
“I have to be okay, Carly. I have to be strong.” I drew in another shaky breath and raked my hand through my hair. I turned to meet Carly’s eyes. She was one of my best friends. She would understand. And damn it, I needed to tell someone. “I’m pregnant.”
Her eyes went wide but she recovered like a champ and smiled. “You are? Oh wow!”
A dry laugh slipped through my lips. “Wow is right.”
Carly twisted so we were facing one another and she watched my expression carefully. “Does Jack know?”
I shook my head. “No one knows.”
She looked down at her folded hands. “Well, that explains a few things…”
“Am I getting fat?” I asked, trying to make a joke but it fell flat.
Carly shook her head. “You look beautiful, Holl. Always. I just mean why you’re putting so much pressure on yourself to grin and bear everything. You don’t even talk about the breakup or Jack. I was afraid you were burying your feelings because you didn’t want to deal with them. Now at least I understand why.”
