THE BET (Manhattan Nights #2)

Prologue

Prologue

VIOLET

TWO YEARS AGO

We had done it; every bone in my body was telling me so.

The cushion underneath the backs of my knees is cold, and in a hospital gown the color of an early morning sky, I can’t stop moving. Can’t stop fidgeting in the itchy blue uniform.

I swear the goddamned clock on the wall is taunting me, and as I stare at its slow-moving hands, panic starts to set in, making my fingers and toes tingle in the frigid white room.

I can’t breathe my heart is beating so hard, until at last that cold blue door opens with the doctor. The “Sorry” written in her small smile is enough, and she walks closer, closing the door behind her, I let go of a long breath, my fingers flying to my brow as I wipe away a line of sweat.

My hand shakes as I lower it, my lips spreading into what I fear is a watery smile. I glance up at her.

“So?” I prod. “Bad news?”

She nods, her brown eyes dimming. “I’m sorry, Violet… I’m afraid so.”

I laugh, feeling no humor in the sound. “Guess I’m not getting the Christmas present I’d hoped for.”

My doctor smiles, the sad expression still reassuring on her pretty face. “Consider this, Violet. You still haven’t given up yet. And you shouldn’t.” She reaches her hand out to shake mine. “If it isn’t this Christmas, it’ll be the one after that. Or the one after that. Sometimes the gift we want right now isn’t the gift we need.” She nods slowly. “Give it time. It will happen, Mrs. Hudson.”

The sound of my marital name on her lips is enough to dissolve me into sobs, and within minutes, I am in Dr. Wannamaker’s arms, wrapped in the warmest hug the physician can offer.

I dress quicker than a runway model, my feet practically skating as I exit the icy offices. Climbing behind the black leather wheel of my white Jag, tears—hot and steady—form at the corners of my eyes, falling everywhere, and as I take a turn out of the parking lot, heading home, my mind is still stuck on all the holiday gifts I haven’t picked up, the loads of errands still left to do before Christmas Day weighing down on my mind like a load that won’t let up.

I drop by the nearest gift-wrapping place I can find, fitting a couple of my early presents in.

The doctor’s news bubbling up inside of me, I can’t resist the urge to drop by my house for a drink. I practically crawl into my front door less than fifty minutes later, my arms aching as I set a baseball team’s worth of bags onto my cherry hardwood floor, my tear-filled eyes too blurry to notice the unexpected company in my condo.

Until I hear the footsteps.

The soft sound of shoe-falls makes me stop inside my own threshold, and instinctively, I reach towards my stomach, holding one hand over my belly button as a flutter finds its way there and stays.

I call out, my voice cracking on a croak. “Hello?” I say towards the kitchen, fear planting my feet to the floor. “Is anyone there?”

Warm brown eyes appear at the corner, looking straight at me. I exhale loudly, my body sagging as I reach for my best friend Jasmine, who steps forward, a magnificent magenta dress fitting over her perfect frame.

She holds me briefly, letting go quickly, her small smile shaky as she stares. She takes a step back.

“You’re home early,” she states, her mocha irises roaming from my figure to the floor. She clasps her hands.

“I know,” I reply, sighing. “I took an early lunch.” I point towards the bags. “Christmas shopping.” I plaster a smile that’s sure to break. “See for yourself.”

Kneeling next to the gigantic bags, Jazz peeks inside, her eyes going wide as she ruffles through its overly cute contents. She pulls the pacifier out first, waving it in the air, and I watch her swallow slowly, her gaze clouding, her silky voice trembling as she stands. She wrings her small delicate hands.

“You’re pregnant.”

It’s a statement, not a question. I answer with a shake of my head, my neck threatening to break.

I exhale loudly, the breath blowing hard out of my cheeks. I can barely say the words. “No… I’m not, Jazz. Just wishful thinking. Guess Santa missed my house this year again, huh?”

My throat squeezes and I reach for her again, needing a body to cushion the blow, needing my closest friend’s comfort to push the very real nightmare away.

I feel her stiffen.

My best friend’s body turns to cement, and with a hug much colder than my own doctor’s, I pull out of her hold, my head tilting as I examine her expressionless face.

The shout flying from further inside the condo air cuts off my next words.

“Jazz!” I hear from beyond the kitchen. “Get your sexy ass back in here! Daddy’s got something big and hard for you.”

The air goes still immediately after. Several seconds pass before reality registers, and I drop the pink clutch in my hand, my feet hurtling towards the back bedroom before my brain can catch up.

Jazz grabs for me, missing me as I sprint without a second thought farther into the confines of my over-priced condo. I halt when I find my bedroom door open. I c***k it farther, my eyes landing on the broad body standing against the farthest wall.

In nothing but boxer briefs.

The world goes eerily quiet as my nerves hum. I stare at the handsome man, my gaze grazing his pale skin from head to toe, and my pulse leaps into my throat, thrumming hard, my fingers sweating as the truth takes hold and nearly chokes me. My heart stops.

He turns to face me, a smile printed on his full lips. The grin slides from his mouth as his stare at last meets mine, and I watch as recognition hits him like a pile of bricks, shock sucking the life out of his bright blue irises. He opens his mouth to speak.

But I don’t hear a damn thing. Couldn’t if I tried.

There’s a roar rumbling in my ears. An actual thunder. Every word, every noise, every other sound is blocked, barred and closed off—overshadowed by the sound of my own heart breaking in two.