“Are you ready for your car to be brought around, Mr. Newark?” the valet asked as I stepped outside. We had come in London’s car tonight. She wasn’t a fan of motorcycles. But I didn’t correct the valet. I simply nodded.

“Do you think I can come inside tonight?” London asked as she stared up at me through her lashes. I didn’t need her to spell it out. That look told me all I needed to know. If I wanted it, I could have it.

Problem was, I wasn’t feeling it. Not after seeing Bethy. “I’m beat,” I replied.

“Really? You’re beat? That’s what your excuse is?” She was angry. But I knew she would be. She had taken it well when I’d dodged the last few advances she’d made, and now it was time for her to start getting more blunt. I got that. But I wasn’t ready.

“OK. You want the truth? I’m not over my last relationship. I need some time. If you can’t deal with that, then we need to end this now. If you can let me deal, then we’re good. But don’t push me, London,” I said, dropping my arm and putting some space between us.

She didn’t respond right away. I knew she hadn’t been expecting me to blame this on a past relationship. If she only knew it had been eight years since it ended. “I didn’t know. You hadn’t mentioned anyone.”

I let her think about it and decide what she wanted to do. Either way, I was good with it.

The valet pulled her car up, and I turned to her.

“I can get another car home if you prefer,” I said, almost hoping that was what she preferred.

She frowned and shook her head. “No. I’ll take you home. I’m willing to give it more time.”

I wasn’t sure I had the energy for this. Using London to distract me from Bethy was wrong. I didn’t need to waste her time. I was a lost cause and completely out of reach for what she wanted.

Bethy

Aunt Darla met me at the clubhouse the next morning. The woman never looked concerned, so the worried frown between her brows didn’t bode well.

“’Morning, Aunt Darla,” I said.

She didn’t even pretend to smile. “Come into my office. We need to talk,” she said, then turned and headed that way.

I hadn’t been called to her office to talk since before I started dating Jace. She’d threatened to fire me if I kept having sex with club members on the property. The truth was, I’d only been having sex with Jace. I had gotten a reputation because of my drinking and partying, but I didn’t sleep with more than one guy at a time. Even if I had been accused of it.

I followed her into her office and closed the door. She was standing with her arms crossed over her chest as she studied me. What in the world did she think I had done? My life was pretty uneventful. There had been no partying, drinking, or sex in a very long time, just socializing with good friends.

“What’s going on with you and Tripp Newark?” she asked. “I would have thought you knew better than that. Do you remember what happened the last time you messed around with him? I know you’ve been hurting and missing Jace. I want you to move on as much as anyone else, but not with Tripp. What he did to you is what guys like him do. Jace was an exception. But Tripp will eventually marry well for money. He ran from you once before, Bethy. And left you pregnant.” At the word “pregnant,” she stopped her tirade and took a ragged breath.

“Nothing is going on with us. What have you heard?” I asked, still unsure who would have told my aunt Darla something. No one had any idea what happened at the wedding.

“I didn’t need someone to tell me anything. I was there last night. I watched you looking at him all night long. Then, when he finally took a moment to notice you existed, I saw something in his eyes, too. Don’t go there, Bethann. Did you see the woman he was with? That’s the type he’ll marry. Next time he knocks you up, you may not miscarry. What happens then? We both know you won’t go through with an abortion.”

Miscarry? What? “Back up. What do you mean, I may not miscarry next time? I didn’t miscarry the last time. You took me to the abortion clinic. Remember?”

Aunt Darla stiffened, and something flashed across her face that I didn’t understand. “Bethann, I never took you to an abortion clinic. I told you that I would help you do something with that baby. You cried for twenty-four hours straight. I made an appointment out of town at an OB-GYN’s private office. I didn’t want to run the risk of running into anyone who knew us. When we got there, you were cramping. The nurse took you back. The doctor examined you, and the bleeding started. You were only eight weeks along, and you were miscarrying the baby. The doctor gave you strong pain medication that knocked you out and sent you home. When I told you I would help you do something with the baby, I meant the actual baby. I was going to help you find a good home for it. I wasn’t going to let you end the pregnancy. That would have haunted you for life . . .” She stopped talking and looked at me with horror in her eyes. “Oh, Bethann. Oh, God, honey. You thought you got an abortion all this time?”

I didn’t know there were tears running down my face until she reached over to wipe them away and pulled me into her arms.

“I had no idea that’s what you thought. You were so young and scared. I should have explained things to you better.”

I held on to her arms as I finally broke down and grieved for the baby I never got to hold. The guilt and shame I’d felt for so long slowly released me, and I cried harder. So many times, I had wished I’d never let them give me the shot that I thought was meant to put me to sleep for the abortion procedure. I had been lying there on that table, thinking about ways I could have the baby. Ways I could make it work. I would beg Aunt Darla. I was going to tell the nurse that I didn’t want to do it as soon as she got back. But I couldn’t keep my eyes open.