I’m not pregnant…

Not pregnant.

“Not pregnant,” I said as my brain struggled to process the bombshell my fiancée just dropped. “Did you…” Taking a slow breath, I looked from the wine to her flushed face. Maybe there was a rational explanation for her behavior after all. I forced my voice to soften. “You lost the baby?”

“No.” Paisley slammed the bottle down and stormed across the few feet that separated us. “I didn’t lose the baby.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I turned away and shoved the heel of my hand against my eye. My patience was wearing thin, but I didn't want to react based on a misunderstanding. “Spell it out for me, Paisley.”

She gave the sort of unladylike snort that I would've thought was beneath her. “You know, I never thought you were as smart as everyone seemed to think.”

I ignored the insult and waited.

“Can't lose what you never had to begin with.”

My stomach dropped. “You were never pregnant.”

“Bravo. Now you got it.” She gave me a smile of mock pride, clapping her hands. “Good job, honey!”

I curled my hands into fists. “You made it up. All of it.”

When she didn’t respond, I closed the last of the distance between us, putting my hands on the counter on either side of her waist. I wasn't touching her – I never wanted to touch her again – but she was effectively caged in.

She swallowed hard, apparently realizing how pissed off I was. A bit of the alcohol haze left her eyes, and I could see her trying to compose herself.

“You made it up,” I said again.

I needed to hear her say it, needed to know that I wasn't jumping to conclusions. Still, a part of me was hoping that it was a misunderstanding. That she'd honestly thought she was pregnant, and by the time she discovered that she wasn't, things had gotten away from her. I could forgive her for that.

Her expression hardened, and she practically sneered her answer, “Yeah. So what? I’m not pregnant. We’ll get married and sooner or later, I will be.”

“Seriously?” I shoved away and started to pace.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm their shaking. For the past few weeks, there had been only one positive thing when I looked at what I thought was going to be my future.

One.

And it turned out that one tiny thing had never existed.

Everything I'd done over the past few weeks had been because of the baby. Every choice I'd made, every painful decision. I'd changed everything for that future, and now it was all ripped away.

Maybe it didn’t make a difference to her, but it made one hell of a difference to me.

“Does my mother know?”

Paisley gave me a distracted look, one that clearly told me she didn’t see why it mattered. The threads of my temper stretched taut, and I could all but imagine them snapping, one by one. Taking one step closer, I asked my question again.

“Of course she knew,” Paisley snapped, waving a hand in the air. “Do you really think I’d do something like this on my own? It was her idea. Well, hers and my mother’s.”

I stared at her in disbelief, hoping I’d misunderstood what she said. “They both knew? You were lying this whole time, and my mother knew? It was her idea?”

I thought that repeating the statements would make them seem more ludicrous, less believable, but that wasn't the case.

“Of course.” Paisley leaned against the island, tapping her nails on it in an aggravated rhythm. “Really, Jal. It’s not like anything else was going to get your attention, now was it? We’d been dating for almost a year–”

“We went to a couple of functions, and my mother was always pushing you at me at family events. That's not dating, Paisley.” I didn't understand how my entire world could have shifted on its axis in just a few short minutes.

“And what did you think we were doing when we were sleeping together?” She shoved off the island and glared at me. She seemed angrier that I was pushing the issue than contrite about lying about something so important.

“It’s called sex, Paisley! I told you I wasn’t looking for any kind of commitment.” I paused a beat and then asked sarcastically, “Or did you think I was just making that up? Apparently you do it as easily as breathe.”

She had the nerve to look insulted.

As she sputtered for a response, I moved into the living room and headed for the bar service. I'd left a bottle of twenty-five-year old scotch back there and now was the perfect time to break it open. I'd been considering saving it for the baby's birth, but apparently this was more realistic.

“So exactly what was the plan, Paisley? Pretend you were pregnant, get me to propose, and then lose the baby? A miscarriage would've made me look like a heel if I left you then. Or were you going to tell me the truth somewhere along the way and hope I'd just go with it to avoid the embarrassment of admitting I'd been tricked? Maybe try to get knocked up and fake a super-short pregnancy? Do I strike you as that much of an idiot?”

Her face had paled, as if she'd only just realized how badly she'd fucked up. “I…Jal, I don’t see why you’re so upset about this. We’re now where we should've been all along. It's the natural progression...”

I’d been about to pour the scotch into a glass, but at those words, I stopped, lifting my head to stare at her. Her words trailed off, and she nervously cleared her throat, then opened her mouth as if she meant to continue.

I held up a finger, stopping her. “You don’t see why I’m so upset. So…” I splashed the scotch into my glass and took a slow sip, savoring the taste and the feel as it burned a smooth path straight down. “You got this idea in your head that, at some point, you and I were going to end up on this road, so you decided to take a shortcut to get us there quicker. Am I right?”

She gave me a smile that wobbled at the edges nervously. “Of course. Not the best idea, I can see that now. That’s all it was. A shortcut.”

“Wrong.” I tossed back the rest of the scotch like it was pure moonshine and slammed the glass down so hard it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. Bracing my hands on the bar, I glared at her across the expanse of the room. “When I said I wasn’t looking for a commitment, I meant it.”

She twisted the ring on her finger, and the sight of it reflecting the light back at me hit me hard.

I was still technically engaged to her.

She wasn’t pregnant.

I no longer had a responsibility to stay with her.

There was no baby.

“I had no plans to marry you, Paisley. At all.” I splashed more scotch into my glass and studied her over the rim. “See, unlike you, unlike your mother, my mother, when I say things, I mean them. The only reason I proposed was because of the baby, because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

Because I was going to be a father.

Her throat worked. She backed up a step, her heel hitting the island at her back. I watched her putting together just how badly things were going for her, but I didn't feel any sympathy as her new reality sank in.

“Since there’s no baby…” I shrugged and looked down, watching the amber liquid swirl around in the glass. My anger drained away as quickly as it had arrived. Now, all I felt was numb. “There’s no reason to get married, is there?”

“What are you saying?” she demanded, her voice shaking.

“It’s not so hard a concept. Keep the ring if you want. I don’t care. But the wedding is off.” I shot her a look over the glass. “And I don’t mean off as in I need time to think. I mean we're not getting married, not going to any events together, not fucking ever. If I had my way, I'd never see your face again.”

“You son of a bitch!” she shouted. “You immature, self-centered bastard! We were doing you a favor!”

I couldn’t hold back the sharp laugh that burst from my throat. “Next time you feel inclined to do me a favor? Don’t. And I suggest you educate yourself on immaturity and self-centeredness. I don’t think you’d recognize what it’s like to think of others if your life depended on it.”

Face flushed pink, Paisley flung a hand toward the window, as though the whole of Philadelphia society could see us fighting. “And what am I to tell everybody? People are expecting a wedding!”

“You could try the truth for once,” I suggested. “Tell them you lied, and I found out and thought marrying you wasn’t in my best interest.”

She gaped at me for a moment before starting in again. “You insufferable ass! I can’t…you…you won’t do this to me.”

“It’s already done. Now…” I put my glass down. “If you'll excuse me, I'll see myself out. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me, or I'll have you arrested.”

I slammed the door behind me and headed outside as I tried to absorb everything that had happened in the last few minutes.

Minutes.

It felt like years.

No matter how long it'd taken, it'd been long enough to change everything.

She wasn’t pregnant. Hadn’t ever been pregnant.

A headache pulsed at the base of my skull, pounding and threatening to explode, but things kept coming, one after another.

Paisley.

My mother.

Diamond.

They’d all lied. Planned it together.

Then, my mind circled around to Allie.

Allie.

The things I'd said to her, accused her of. The stricken look on her face before the anger had covered it.

I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up.

Man, when I fucked up, I did it well.