Having Justin's Baby. Pamela Bauer

hated crying. It was for wusses and she was no wuss. She especially hated crying over a guy, but this was not just any guy. This was Michael. Her fiancé. She looked again at the ring on her finger. This morning she’d dangled it in front of the consignment-store clerk’s eyes as if it was her most prized possession. Now it hurt to look at it. She yanked it from her finger and almost threw it across the carefully manicured grass into one of the golf course’s water hazards. Almost. Paige could be just as emotional as any other woman, but she had an advantage. Her brain rarely allowed her emotions to govern her decisions.

      She didn’t know what would become of the diamond, but she didn’t want its fate to be the same as that of a golf ball whose owner had botched a swing. Hoping that out of sight would mean out of mind, she slipped the ring into her pocket, wishing it was as easy to hide the ugly stuff that had happened to her today.

      Only there was no way she was going to be able to keep what had happened a secret. She wondered how many of the resort’s employees already knew that Michael had dumped her. Suddenly the furtive glances exchanged between Kathy and Rosie made sense. Kathy’s husband worked at the golf course. The rumor mill had put two and two together.

      It was such a humiliating thought Paige didn’t know how she was going to face anyone. Maybe she wouldn’t face them. Maybe she would just go get her purse, punch her time card, walk out and never return. Ever.

      The thought was a tempting one. There were only a couple of weeks left of the summer season anyway. It would be so nice not to have to face a single person at the resort. She could just imagine the looks of pity.

      But as badly as she wanted to run away from it all, she couldn’t. She had responsibilities—a job, a lease on a trailer, a lease on a house. And the Bulldogs would be coming for their reunion weekend.

      Her hurt turned to anger. She was supposed to be introducing her fiancé to Ben and Amber this weekend, not making excuses as to why he wasn’t there. Only, she wouldn’t make excuses. She would get through the next three days one way or another.

      She pulled out her cell phone, took several deep breaths and punched the number one on her speed dial—the house phone she had at one time shared with Justin and Kyle. It rang once then rolled over to voice mail.

      After the beep she said, “Hey, it’s me. I need to talk to you. Bad.” Her voice was wobbly and she was worried that they’d be able to tell she’d been crying. She took another deep breath and said, “I’m having, like, the worst day of my life. Michael’s on his way to Vegas with his old girlfriend and I’m here at the Cascading Waters feeling like…well, you can imagine how I feel…and I really need to talk to you.” Losing the battle of fighting tears, she ended with, “I have to get back to work. Call me when you get this.”

      Again she thought about getting in her car and never coming back. But she knew that sooner or later she would have to face everyone at the lodge, so she went back to work.

      When she walked into the Birchwood Room, the first person she saw was Kathy. “You’ve been crying?” She flung an arm around her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

      “You know, don’t you?” Paige asked, even though she was almost certain of the answer.

      The older woman nodded slowly. “I was hoping it was just a rumor. I’m sorry, Paige. It was a really low thing for the two of them to do. Why don’t you ask if you can take the rest of the afternoon off?”

      Paige knew it would mean extra work for the remaining waitstaff. “No, it’s all right. It’s better if I keep busy. I’ll go wash up and be right out.”

      “Sure. Go ahead. Take as much time as you need. Rosie and I can cover for you.”

      “Thanks.” Paige visited the ladies’ restroom and washed her hands and face, determined that none of the other employees would see just how deeply hurt she was by Michael’s rejection. To her relief the lunch crowd was heavy and she didn’t have time to dwell on what they may or may not have heard. When her shift finally ended, Paige left with the knowledge that as difficult as it had been to stay at work, at least she’d had the satisfaction of knowing she’d fulfilled her obligation.

      When she got back to the trailer she saw the box of decorations staring at her from the tiny tabletop, reminding her that she had another job to finish before she could do what she really wanted to do—go to bed and forget the day even happened. She needed to take the food and beverages over to the Pinecone Cabin and hang the decorations. And she would, but first she needed some time alone to let her jangled nerves rest.

      At only five foot two she could easily curl up onto the small sofa that pulled out into a bed. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying not to think about Michael and Chelsea cuddling up to one another at a wedding chapel in Vegas.

      “This should not be happening to me—it’s just not fair,” she said to herself as images of the two of them together tormented her until she fell asleep.

      AS JUSTIN HEADED FOR HOME he knew exactly what he wanted. A cold beer and a shower and in that order. Then he was going to meet several of his friends at the Saints game, where he’d get a couple of hot dogs and have another cold beer. It was the perfect way to spend a hot summer evening and there was nothing like baseball to take his mind off a woman he shouldn’t be thinking about. Ever since she’d sent him the phone photo of her in her wedding dress, Paige had been on his mind.

      It hadn’t been one of his better days. It had started with a flat tire on his pickup that had put him behind on his appointments for the rest of the day. As part of his job selling the nursery stock, he also had to respond to complaint calls. He usually had one or two follow-up calls a week to check on the condition of the plants and trees he’d sold clients. Today alone he’d had three callbacks, but it was the last one that had been the most difficult. It was to a golf course.

      After listening to Paige carry on about her wedding dress this morning, it was the last place he wanted to be. He hated golf, and the fact that Michael Cross had Paige playing the game was like a burr in his sock. Paige was no more interested in golf than Justin was, yet she now spent more energy worrying about getting a tee time than she did getting tickets to a ball game.

      And if it wasn’t enough that the trees he’d sold the golf course had died, while he was doing the inspection, one of the landscape employees had tripped getting out of the way of a golf cart and broken an ankle. Justin was the one who took him to the hospital emergency room where they had ended up spending most of the afternoon. He’d had to cancel the remainder of his appointments for the day, which was not the way he wanted to start his three-day weekend.

      He took an unusually long shower, allowing the water to wash away the frustrations of the day. By the time he had toweled himself dry, he felt relaxed and ready to spend the night with the guys drinking beer and talking baseball.

      As he was getting dressed, his cell phone beeped. It was Kyle sending him a text message telling him that he was having a DND night at Tammy’s. They had been roommates long enough for Justin to know that DND was code for Do Not Disturb. Justin messaged him back, telling him he was going to the Saints game and would see him in the morning.

      Then he finished dressing, grabbed his Saints cap and was about to head out the back door when he noticed the blinking message light on the house phone. His finger automatically hit the play button.

      As he suspected, the first two messages were from telemarketers trying to convince him he needed his carpets cleaned and new windows installed. He glanced impatiently at his watch, thinking that if he had to run through a string of such calls he’d miss the start of the game. He was about to press the stop button when he heard Paige’s voice.

      “Hey, it’s me. I need to talk to you. Bad. I’m having, like, the worst day of my life. Michael’s on his way to Vegas with his old girlfriend and I’m here at the Cascading Waters feeling like…well, you can imagine how I feel…and I really need to talk to you.”

      It was followed by a double beep indicating it was the last message recorded.

      “That