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“I could be your date,” I agree.
“It’s going to be in Chicago. We would have to stay overnight,” she reiterates.
“That’s fine. I don’t mind.” I shrug.
“Thanks, Evan. I appreciate you coming,” she says and something about this whole situation seems off. Patty is very tense about her cousin’s upcoming nuptials.
“Is there something else going on?” I ask.
Her brows pinch together. “No, why do you ask?”
“Because you seem mega tense,” I reply.
“Shit,” she sighs.
“What is it? You know you can tell me anything, right?” I straighten out a little and look into her baby blues. I may want her like my next breath but she is my friend.
She bites her lip. “I don’t think this is something I should share.”
“Quinn knows though, right? You two seem pretty tight,” I note.
“Why are you so observant?” she snickers, shaking her head.
“I just notice things is all.”
“Quinn is the sister I never had. Growing up with Kevin was amazing, but it was also nice having a girl cousin close in age to share the girly stuff with,” she explains.
“Does this have something to do with the guy who broke your heart?” I ask.
She stills and her eyes turn slightly round and stay locked on me. “How. . .why. . .do you think that?”
“Because you get very shaky and jittery when something is about him. I’ve never seen you so locked down as when it has to do with him. What did he do to you? Why are you so on guard about him?”
She blows out a breath. “Evan, if I tell you this you have to promise to never tell a single soul. I’m serious. Skylar is my person, and she doesn’t even know. The only person who knows is Quinn and that’s because it’s bad, like really bad,” she emphasizes.
“You’re kind of scaring me but you have my word. Whatever you say will never leave these walls,” I confirm.
“Okay, so when I was nineteen, I fell for a player on Dad’s team.” She winces. “Daddy was still playing hockey. He was at the end of his career,” she explains.
Her dad had a long career and played much longer than most players. A million questions flood my mind, but I keep my mouth shut in fear she will stop talking.
“Andrew was thirty and I was nineteen, but I was infatuated with him and he knew it. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other,” she says, and her words sting because I want her to feel that way about me. Her gaze cuts to mine. I don’t know what she is searching for, but I keep listening and so she keeps talking. “I got pregnant, and I told him we needed to come clean to my parents. He said he loved me, and I believed him. He said we should wait until our first ultrasound to make sure the pregnancy was viable before we told my parents. He came with me to the doctor and was supportive. I saw a future with him, but I was young and naïve.”
I mutter curse words under my breath.
“When I was close to two months pregnant, we did an ultrasound and found that it was an ectopic pregnancy. I was devastated. Before we got the news, I had dreamed up this fantasy of us being a little family and living happily ever after. I thought he was a stand-up guy. The doctor told me it was safest for me to do a surgical procedure to end the pregnancy,” she relays, and tears sting her eyes and she swallows hard. I can see she’s struggling with this part.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Basically, it was a procedure to flush out the embryo,” she explains.
“Damn.” I lean forward and hug her. “I’m so sorry, Patty, that must have been so hard for you.” I hold her in my arms. My heart breaks just thinking what she must have been feeling. I can’t even imagine it.
“Thanks. I mourned and grieved on my own, so it was nice of you to say,” she shares and when I pull away, she is wiping tears from her eyes. “Sorry, it’s still so hard for me to talk about.”
“Don’t be sorry, please, don’t ever apologize for your feelings with me.”
“Thanks for being so understanding.”
