A Perfect Trade. Anna Sugden

to let the IVF nurse know the result.

      Jenny dialed Sally’s number and the nurse answered her call after one ring.

      Anguish rose, threatening to overwhelm Jenny. Her words were little more than a whimper. “I... It...”

      “I’m sorry,” Sally’s sympathetic tone soothed.

      Relief that she didn’t have to say the words eased some of the tension in Jenny’s body. “Was it my fault?”

      “Of course not.” The nurse’s tone brooked no argument.

      “But I...”

      “Stop.” Sally’s voice softened. “We don’t know why you miscarried, but it wasn’t anything you did. Unless you went bull-riding or bungee-jumping.”

      Even in her misery, Jenny’s lips twitched. “No.”

      “No drinking, smoking, drugs or partying?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Then I’m afraid this is just one of those things.”

      “What do I do now?” Jenny’s voice broke.

      “Give yourself time to grieve. To heal. When you’re ready, we’ll talk options.”

      There were no options.

      Jenny cleared the lump from her throat. “I can’t afford any more attempts.”

      “You’re still young. Things could change, giving you another opportunity. You could meet Mr. Right and try again.”

      “There’s no such thing as Mr. Right.” Once, she’d thought Tru was Mr. Right. But he’d shown himself to be Mr. Totally Wrong.

      “You don’t know that,” Sally chided.

      Sadly, she did. But the nurse couldn’t understand, not without knowing the whole story. So she moved on and thanked Sally for her help.

      For a long time after Jenny hung up, she sat cross-legged on her bed, hugging her pillow, thinking about the past and what she’d lost. Eventually, her mind shifted toward the present and how she would deal with the problems facing her.

      One thing was for sure, Lizzie came first. Always. From the minute Jenny had turned eighteen and they’d left their uncle’s house, she’d tried to give Lizzie a good life. The sacrifices she’d made had been worth it; her sister was bright, well-adjusted and happy.

      Jenny would do everything to ensure her sister stayed that way.

      Which meant she couldn’t sit around here feeling sorry for herself. She had to make money. To do that she had to find a job. Maybe several jobs. As nervous as she was about putting herself out there, she had no choice.

      Forcing herself to move before the anguish lingering within took over, Jenny rose stiffly and walked to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her unruly hair, grimacing at her too-pale reflection.

      Back in the bedroom, she took off her sweatpants and T-shirt, replacing them with black jeans, a crisp striped blouse and her favorite spiked heel sandals. Like donning armor, the layers encased her vulnerable self within its protection, enabling her to face the world.

      Jenny was applying lipstick when the phone rang. At first she didn’t answer. The wrong words, the wrong tone and her fragile control would shatter. When it rang a second time, she checked the caller ID.

      Why was Maggie so keen to get hold of her?

      Drawing on every ounce of reserve strength, Jenny answered.

      “You sound odd.” Worry tinged her friend’s words. “Is everything all right?”

      Jenny injected a bright note into her voice. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. What’s up?”

      “I have good news. How would you like to be a godmother?”

      “A what?” The lipstick dropped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers.

      Maggie giggled. “A godmother.”

      Her brain took several seconds to make the connection. “You...you’re pregnant?”

      Pain seared through her.

      “I’m due in November.” Maggie bubbled with excitement. “I can’t believe it. Jake and I have been trying for so long, I’d almost given up.”

      As Maggie chatted away about ultrasounds and due dates, Jenny tried to pull herself together. To stop the wrenching in her stomach.

      She was happy for Maggie. And she’d tell her...in a minute...when she had the strength. “Congratulations. Jake must be thrilled.”

      “He says it’s like winning the Cup all over again.”

      “With him scoring the winning goal.” Jenny’s laugh was watery, but genuine.

      Each moment the call continued was agony, yet she couldn’t spoil her friend’s happiness by cutting her short. Jenny had no idea what she said, but somehow she managed to keep up her end of the conversation.

      Just as she thought she couldn’t take a moment more, Maggie released her.

      Jenny had barely hung up when her knees gave way and she slid to the floor.

      Grief washed over her in waves. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to mute the sobs that escaped. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rocked back and forth.

      But she couldn’t hold back anymore. Mewling cries, wrenched from deep within, echoed around the empty room.

      Darkness had fallen by the time the storm inside Jenny began to calm. Her throat was hoarse, her lips parched, her eyes scratchy. Her muscles ached.

      But her heart was numb, at last.

      I have to get out of here.

      Where could she go? She looked a mess. Hell, she was a mess. She needed a place where she could sit alone. She couldn’t face bumping into someone she knew.

      Memories of an old stomping ground surfaced.

      Jenny hadn’t been to the Exeter Diner in a long time. A hole-in-the-wall, with dim lighting, where the regulars kept to themselves. She’d escaped there as a teenager when she couldn’t handle being in Douglas’s house. Then later she’d hung out there with Tru.

      How many times had she driven past over the years? She’d never stopped because the place held too many memories. Of Tru’s friendship turning to something more special. More precious. Of their first tentative kisses in those shadowed booths. Of whispered secrets and stolen moments.

      Of that final night when he’d promised to keep her safe, then destroyed her safety. The night he’d wrecked their friendship and killed their blossoming love.

      Yet, as much as she shied away from the memories the Exeter Diner evoked, she was drawn to its siren call. To its familiarity and to the peace she could find by sheltering in the cocoon of those high-sided bench seats.

      What did she have to lose? Tru wouldn’t be there. Nor anyone else she knew.

      Jenny got to her feet and hurried back into the bathroom. She washed her face again, then grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.

      * * *

      A COLD BEER, a rare burger with all the trimmings and not a hockey fan in sight.

      Exactly what Tru needed. The tension that had tightened his shoulders since that damn encounter with Don and Dirk in the sporting goods store finally began to ease. He leaned back against the padded leather seat in the dark booth and took a long drink from the bottle the gum-snapping waitress had just served him.

      He’d nearly forgotten about this diner, back in the old neighborhood; he hadn’t been here in years. When he’d stormed out of the Plaza, he hadn’t wanted to go home, but also hadn’t wanted to risk going anywhere fans would