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Dad’s voice comes through the phone, softer this time. “Gabrielle, honey. Whatever you need. We’re here.” A beat and then, “We’ll head back tomorrow, first thing. There’s plenty of room in the car, and…that old sewing machine you got started on is still in your room.”

My throat tightens and I’m grateful they’re offering me my old room, and not asking about what all this means for my future, because frankly I don’t know either—where I go from here.

One thing we both know though, is my fashion career might just be dead because it’s always been in the hands of my fiancé.

Some thought I was with him because of that, but no, that’s not true. I loved him.

My phone keeps pinging, and my stomach tightens, knowing it’s Cass. How can I answer? What am I supposed to say? The look on his face when I walked into that room. He wasn’t just embarrassed, he was mad.

Mad.

That I caught him cheating.

But surely to God he won’t want to get married after this? He won’t want to walk down the aisle when he’s not really in love with me. If this was true love, he wouldn’t have cheated the night before our wedding.

“Gabrielle, are you still there?” Mom asks.

“I am, but I’m going to go. I need a good night’s sleep.”

“What about tomorrow?”

I exhale. “Can I let you know in the morning?” I’m not sure why I’m asking that. It’s not like I have any other options.

“Love you,” Mom and Dad tell me after I say the same. I end the call. When I see Cass’s number come up, I toss my phone onto the bed, not wanting to talk to him. I’m about to head to the bathroom for a long soak when a text comes through, and I glance at the phone.

Cass: If you don’t show up tomorrow, I’ll ruin you.

I stare at the phone, the room closing in on me. He’s threatening me? Threatening to ruin me if I don’t go through with the wedding? What the ever-loving hell. I’m already ruined, and honestly, it’s not the threatening part so much, but that he still wants to marry me.

Cass: Don’t you dare fucking make me look bad in front of everyone. Be there or else.

Ah, now I get it. Cassian St. Pierre, the prodigal model son of a famous fashion icon, Luc St. Pierre, is not to be made a fool of in public, especially when the world is watching.

But it’s okay for him to make a fool of me in private.

I glance at the dress designed by his father and shake my head.

Of course, it was all about the fashion for the media.

I wanted to make my own dress, but Luc St. Pierre didn’t approve.

I walk to the big bathroom and turn on the faucet to fill the tub with water.

It’s big enough for two, not that I’ll be sharing a bath with anyone anytime soon.

I find some vanilla scented bath salts and sprinkle them in.

Clicking the door shut, I strip out of the dress Rip brought me, and slip into the tub.

I close my eyes, but quickly open them as visions of Cass and Todd jump into my mind’s eye.

The door to the suite opens in the distance, and a few minutes later, knuckles rap at my door, “Gabs, you okay in there?”

“I’m okay,” I tell him. Honestly, he’s so sweet and I’m not really used to anyone handling me with kid gloves.

While I have great, caring parents, I’ve always been independent, and pride myself on standing on my own two feet.

I guess that will be changing when I scurry home tomorrow with my tail between my legs.

“I got all your stuff.”

I gulp. “Was there any trouble?”

“We can talk when you’re done. Did you talk to your parents?”

“Yes,” I say quietly, a lump in my throat. “We can talk about that too.”

“No hurry. Take your time, okay? Oh, and I brought you a bottle of wine.”

Wine. I could really use a glass or two. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” I tease.

“Actually, yes,” he admits honestly. “You didn’t seem to have a taste for hard liquor, so I figured wine. It’s what the WAGs always drink.”

Like I said, observant.

In a much lower voice, he adds, “I’m no psychologist or anything, Gabs.

We leave the head shrinking to Melanie.” While I have no idea who Melanie is, I listen intently.

“I’m not sure what she’d tell you, but I say tonight with your world on fire, wine to help douse the flames, a movie to help forget, and maybe reminisce about old times for fun, and then tomorrow… reality.”

I nod even though he can’t see me. My world is on fire tonight. “Wine is perfect, Roman.” A strange little bubble of warmth wells up inside me. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

I listen carefully, and there’s silence for a minute, and I think he’s left the door, until he speaks, “I can pour a big-ass glass and bring it in.”

It’s so weird, because hearing his voice still there, right outside the door, brings a weird measure of comfort. “While that sounds nice…” I glance down at my naked body. I used bath salts, not bubbles, so there’s no hiding anything. “I’m kind of naked in here.”

Was that a groan? Good Lord, I must be hearing things. Roman isn’t interested in me. He never has been, and what man wants a woman who’s a hot mess and has been crying her eyes out about her ex? None.

“I’ll back in, with eyes closed. No peeking. I promise.”

I laugh at that and can’t believe Roman Marinelli has managed to make me laugh as my life crumbles around me. “What if you trip, or worse, fall?”

“I skate backward all the time. I won’t get hurt. I got this. But I like that you are worried about me.”

“Actually, I was worried about the wine spilling.”

His big bark of laughter brings a smile to my face. “Smart ass. But hey, despite everything, I love that you never lost your sense of humor, Gabs.” His voice softens when he says my name.

Wait, what? He thinks I have a sense of humor. Do I? I sure as heck don’t remember ever making Cass or anyone in the industry laugh. It’s a very serious, fast-paced business, where you’re run off your feet and gratitude is tossed around…never.

“I’d love a glass of wine,” I finally say.

“On it.”

I sink lower into the tub, letting the salts soothe my body, and a few minutes later, Roman is knocking at my door again.

I stay low. “Come in.”

The door opens and music filters in. As soon as I see him, I’m reminded of high school and how he was always dancing and twirling the girls in the hallway.

I was once the recipient of his antics and it had made my day…

week, really. I’d actually forgotten all about that.

I guess I’d left a lot of my past behind.

“Are you moonwalking?” I shoot out, flabbergasted as he slides across the polished marble floor.

“Just showing off my skills, babe. Now watch this.” Stopping inches before the tub, he spins around, the wine sloshing and climbing both sides of the glass but not spilling over.

I’m seconds from instinctively placing my arms over my private parts, but his eyes are closed so tightly the lines around them are crinkled and he’s probably going to end up with a headache.

“How did you know when to stop?”

He taps one ear. “I’m like a bat. I send out ultrasonic sounds.”

I laugh again. “I guess you’re a pretty good hunter in the dark, huh?”

“Not quite like Elias, who eats June bugs.”

“What?” I ask, thinking about the winger on the Bucks.

“Oh, nothing.” He hands me the glass and I graciously accept it.

“Thank you.” Before I can think better of it, I ask, “Do you bring wine to women in the bath often?”

“Ah…”

I hold one hand out even though he can’t see it. “Never mind.” Why would I ask such a ridiculous question? His sex life is none of my business, other than I’m preventing him from having one tonight.

He laughs. “Okay. I’m going to pour a drink and find a movie for us.”

“Be out soon.” I take a sip of wine as he dances out the door, and I shake my head. “This is great, Roman.”

“You mean the dancing, right?”

“Yeah, I mean the dancing,” I shoot back with a chuckle.

He moves with the beat of the music coming from the room. He really is a good dancer. “I knew you’d be impressed.”

I sit up a little bit, not wanting to miss anything. “Oh, I am.”

“I’ve got moves, baby.”

I laugh a bit harder, nearly spilling the wine. Honestly, I love that he’s trying to cheer me up and as he grips the handle on the bathroom door, I suddenly, ridiculously, begin to wonder what kind of other moves this man might have, but quickly shut that down. Why would my brain go there?

Oh, probably because you’re emotional, and lonely, Gabby.

It’s true, I am those things, and I haven’t wanted to admit it, but I’ve been those things for quite some time now. Cass was always busy, traveling, modeling and doing shows.

Was that the real reason he was rarely home?

Jeez, I can’t go there tonight. My brain might explode.

My gaze drops to take in Roman’s perfect backside before he closes the door behind him and one thought races through my brain.

Where can tonight go, girlfriend, and what else might explode? Maybe that would be a great way to numb and forget.