I reached the top stair. The door to his room was open.
No one was home.
I checked his closet and then his bathroom. No clothes seemed to be missing. Neither was his toothbrush.
The helplessness I’d felt before grew more intense. Where could he be? Most likely with Amber. But I’d check his office just in case. Maybe a system was down.
I called for another ride and took it to the medical center. However, not surprising, the administration building was locked. I called his number again, vowing it would be my last time. At least for a few hours.
Surprisingly, he answered with a weary, “Hello.”
I could barely contain how crazy I felt. “What’s going on?” I tried to keep my voice from wavering. “Where are you?”
“I should have called last night. Sorry.”
I didn’t reply, afraid of what might spew from my mouth.
“Listen,” he said. “We need to call off the wedding. I’ll pay for anything we can’t get refunds on, of course.”
“What . . . what’s going on?” I asked again, even though it was obvious. He was dumping me a week before our wedding. Why did my voice sound sympathetic when inside I felt like I was going to implode?
When he didn’t answer, I lowered my voice even more, whispering, “What happened?”
“I’ve had a . . . complication.”
“Amber?” I was juggling pain, rage, and despair, trying not to reveal any of them.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t explain things last night. I haven’t slept because I’ve been thinking about you. But I can’t go through with the wedding. Not right now.”
My nostrils flared as I spoke. “Where are you?”
“At home.”
I clenched my fist, my nails digging into my palm. Now, besides being deceptive, he was outright lying to me too. “I was just at your place. You weren’t there.”
“I was,” he said, without hesitating. I was taken aback by how easy deceit seemed to come to him. “I left about an hour ago.”
“Where are you?” I asked again.
His voice grew deeper. “At a hotel. Downtown.”
“Are you alone?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
“Can we meet? And talk?”
“That’s not a good idea. Look—” his voice faltered for half a second, but then he continued. “I’ll contact my guests. You contact yours. You cancel the vendors. I’ll cancel the honeymoon. It won’t take long to clear up this mess.”
Mess? Was that how he thought of me now?
“I wish you the best, Savannah. I do. And I’m sorry, but in the long run, this is what’s best for both of us.”
He made it sound like a middle-school breakup. “So that’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
I heard a rumble of laughter in the background on his side of the phone.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “Bye.”
The call ended before I could say another word.
I SPENT CHRISTMAS sobbing and ignoring phone calls from my father.
The next day, it took me a couple of hours to work up the nerve to do what I needed to do. After two cups of coffee and another good cry, I began calling the vendors, asking them to put all the costs on Ryan’s credit card, which they also had on file, instead of mine. Originally, he and I had decided to put the wedding charges on my card for the air miles, for future trips. Once the final bills for the wedding all came in, we would then split the costs and pay off my card.
Everyone was sympathetic. The florist said, “This happens more often than you’d think.” But I doubted that many grooms called it off just a week before the wedding, not like Ryan had.
Next, battling my embarrassment and shame, I called my father on his landline because he still didn’t have a cell. I hoped he was home. It would be like him to work the day after Christmas.
My stepmother, Joy, answered. I could hear their little girl in the background. My father had been forty when my mother died. Two years later, he married Joy, who is just ten years older than me. A year after that, they had a baby. I was twenty-one when Karlie was born; she’d just turned six a week ago.
My feelings toward my father and his new family were complicated. To anyone but us, it would appear we were estranged. But we weren’t, not technically. True, we hardly saw each other, but without a doubt, I loved my dad. I loved Joy and Karlie too.
But it was a painful love. Too much of a reminder of what I used to have—and what I’d lost. And a reminder of how quickly Mom and I had been replaced.
“Savannah,” Joy cooed. “How are you? Making the most of your last week as a single gal?”
“I need to talk to Dad,” I said.
Her voice grew concerned. “Everything all right?”
Afraid my voice might give out, I managed to say, “Not really.”
She paused. I prayed she wouldn’t ask me anything more.
“I’ll get your father,” she said. “You just caught him. He was ready to leave to check on the calves.” He worked for one of those big operations where the cows calved year round.
“Savannah.” Dad’s voice was as deep and soothing as ever. “You okay?”
I took a deep breath. Best to be matter-of-fact and to the point, just as I’d been with the vendors. Best to leave my emotions out of it. “Ryan called off the wedding. You don’t have to come to the city after all.”
“Baby,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
I burst into tears. So much for leaving my emotions out of it. The last time I’d felt so lost and alone was when Mom died. Well, when Dad remarried too.
“Do you need me? I’ll drive down right now.”
“No.” I may have said it more forcefully than I needed to. “I’ll be fine. I just wanted you to know so you and Joy could change your plans.”
