Natalie because Olivia was pregnant.
Natalie had tried to put all the gossip out of her mind, painful as it was. For some reason, it helped to think of her brief encounter with Michael Jones. The quick moment of flirtation, one-sided though it had been. Natalie enjoyed remembering that sexy smile on Michael’s face, so quickly followed by his surprised expression when she’d walked away from him.
Athletes. They were a different breed. Rejecting him had given Natalie a momentary surge of power at a time when she had been feeling powerless.
It had also been wonderful to see Callie, Nigel and Kwame upon their return from Tallahassee the previous evening. Natalie had been able to forget about Vance as she spent time with her newly engaged sister, fussing over her injuries like a mother hen and oohing over the beautiful engagement ring Nigel had presented to her. It had been a happy evening, one in which Natalie’s personal life had been firmly put on the back burner.
But later that night, as Natalie lay in bed alone, she hadn’t been able to get past what Vance had done. And though she didn’t care to hear another word about the man she now considered the biggest mistake in her life, she couldn’t help going to the website for the San Antonio Times the next day after breakfast to check out what Hyacinth had written.
I’ve Moved On, Vance’s Jilted Wife Insists
Natalie groaned as she saw the headline on the first page of the paper’s website. If that was the headline, what would the article itself say?
Natalie scrolled down. There was a wedding photo of her and Vance that had been graphically altered to look like a picture being ripped down the middle. Juxtaposing that photo was one of Vance and Olivia cozying up at a blackjack table in Vegas, looking like the happiest couple in the world.
Natalie wanted to throw up.
She didn’t care to read the article. It was too much. Breaking up was hard enough, but doing so in the public eye was unbearable.
Maybe Deanna was right about that whole Mercury in retrograde stuff. Because each day was bringing more stress. Yes, Natalie had been on a high after learning that Callie would be fine, and seeing her last night had been wonderful indeed. But it was hard to escape the reality that the person she’d married for life had so little disregard for her that he would divorce her quickly in Nevada, only to flaunt his engagement to her former best friend.
Natalie turned off the computer and went into the bathroom opposite her bedroom on the second floor of her uncle’s home. She didn’t want to wallow in the misery of wondering if Vance had ever loved her, because it ultimately didn’t matter. But yes, the truth was that she absolutely had hoped for the fairy tale with her husband.
She locked the bathroom door, then turned on the shower. A nice, hot shower was what she needed to push thoughts of Vance out of her mind.
“You want me to break his legs?” Callie had asked last night as they’d all been at Nigel’s home. “Because I’ll do it. As soon as my injuries heal, I’ll head to San Antonio and take care of him.”
That had gotten laughs from everyone, including Natalie, who at the time had been able to compartmentalize her pain. Concentrating on the reality that her sister was alive and well was far more important than the fact that she had lost a man who had not loved her.
At least that was what she had told herself yesterday. But now…Natalie swallowed a sigh. And as she stepped into the hot shower, she began to cry again.
Angry with herself, she slammed her hand against the tile wall. “Save your tears, Natalie. Just because you always believed in fairy tales doesn’t mean you’re childish enough not to accept that when something is wrong, it’s wrong.”
And marrying Vance had been wrong. She hadn’t known it at the time, but people made mistakes in this life. They were supposed to learn from those mistakes and move on. At least she knew she had done her part to keep the marriage going—which included being faithful to her husband. She had wanted forever with Vance. He, however, had been so into himself and the fact that he was the great Vance Cooper that he couldn’t truly care for another person.
With that thought, Natalie allowed the hot water to splash over her entire face. And she hoped that as her tears mixed with the water and disappeared down the drain, so would the remnants of anything she felt for the man she had been fool enough to marry.
Chapter 3
Natalie was seasoning boneless chicken breasts to grill for dinner when the phone rang again.
Deanna, who was in the kitchen with her cutting potatoes for the salad, was the one who went to answer the phone.
“Maybe you shouldn’t answer it,” Natalie said. “I’m sure it’s another reporter.” Another reporter who clearly wanted to hear her bad-mouth Vance so he or she could feed the team of hungry tabloids and gossip magazines with more dirt.
They had been calling since the sun had come up, and frustrated, Natalie had stupidly spoken to a reporter just after lunch. The woman had wanted her response to the fact that Vance was talking up a storm about how he had found his “true love” and how that made her feel. It was the kind of ridiculous question quack reporters were famous for: Your son was just crushed by truck. How do you feel, sir? Natalie had hung up without answering.
“If it’s a reporter, I’ll get rid of the pest,” Deanna said. “But maybe it isn’t, because this time the display isn’t showing that a private number is calling. It’s a Cleveland number.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Natalie pointed out. She would never forget the time someone had come to her house pretending to be an electrician, when, in fact, the man had been a reporter trying to get the scoop on whether or not Vance was actually considering leaving San Antonio to play for a Los Angeles team.
Reporters would do anything to get the story they wanted.
Picking up the phone, Deanna uttered a pleasant greeting then paused. “Are you a reporter? Okay, then may I ask who’s calling?”
Lowering the phone and covering the mouthpiece with her hand, Deanna said, “Natalie, it’s for you. Some woman named Penelope who claims she’s not a reporter.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You don’t actually expect her to say, ‘Yeah, I’m a reporter.’ Come on, Dee.”
“She said she’s from some children’s charity,” Deanna explained.
Natalie frowned, but was slightly less suspicious. She did a lot of charitable work in San Antonio. But still she said, “Ask her what charity.”
Deanna put the phone to her ear again. “What charity?” And after a moment, “Oh. Okay.”
“Well?” Natalie asked. She knew some of these reporters were very clever. She didn’t want to be tricked.
“She says it’s a local children’s charity for kids with cancer, and she could really use your help. That she knows of your charitable work in San Antonio.” Deanna shrugged. “I don’t know. She sounds legit.”
It was a subject near and dear to her heart, one Natalie had spent a lot of time lending her voice to back in San Antonio. But still, it could be a trick, a desperate reporter who knew enough about her to try
