She had to say yes. She had to.
Removing the small, velvet box from his sock drawer, Wynn popped it open and let Payne inspect the modest solitaire. Stephanie came from money and though her parents seemed to like him, Wynn knew they wouldn’t be impressed with the small diamond. He promised himself he would replace it with something more appropriate as soon as he could afford it.
“You done good, Bro,” Payne complimented. He thrust the bouquet at Wynn. “Go forth and propose.”
He grinned. “You’ve been a great roommate these past two years. Even if you are messy,” he told his brother.
Wynn left the dorm room, slipping the box into his pocket and trying not to crush the tissue-wrapped flowers. He walked across campus with a spring in his step, greeting others with a smile. After four years, Wynn knew a majority of students on campus since the enrollment was under two thousand students and he possessed a knack for faces and names. His role as president of the student senate had put him in contact with a variety of people and he’d made friends easily with other representatives, fellow classmates, and students in the theater productions and math competitions. Working in the campus library part-time had also brought hundreds of people into his orbit. He would leave Winters College with many friends and great memories—but the best would be starting a life with Stephanie Drummond.
He cut through the quadrangle and then walked two blocks off campus to the apartment Stephanie shared with Becky Williams. Most upperclassmen moved from the dorms into frat houses or apartments but Wynn’s scholarship didn’t cover expenses off-campus. He was lucky the college’s financial office honored the free tuition and fees agreement because he was a child of a faculty member. Or had been until his parents perished in a car crash two years ago. Money had been tight ever since. At least with tuition and fees waived, Wynn only paid for room, board, and incidentals.
He reached the parking lot and moved through it, passing Stephanie’s BMW convertible. Chez Louis, the nicest place in town, was over three miles away. They’d need to take her car to dinner tonight. He’d barely scraped together enough money to pay for dinner at the fancy French restaurant after paying for the engagement ring. Nothing was left over for Ubering there and back.
Wynn arrived at the door and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down and not blurt out the proposal. The restaurant would be a better setting for that. Squaring his shoulders, he knocked. Becky immediately answered the door. He was good at reading people and knew something was wrong with her.
“You okay, Becky? Is it—”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said quickly. “Want me to put those in water?” She snatched the flowers from him. “It’s no trouble.”
As she headed to the kitchen, Wynn said, “Wait. I’d like to give them to Stephanie first.”
Becky faced him. “Stephanie can’t go to dinner tonight. She’s really sick.”
He deflated, thinking of all the planning that had gone into the evening and kicking himself for being selfish. “I understand. Let me go check on her.”
“No!” Becky said, almost shouting at him. She nervously cut her eyes toward the closed bedroom door and back at him. “She told me she doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
Warning bells went off in his head. “I won’t stay long.” He strode to the door, not sure what he’d find on the other side.
Not bothering to knock, he opened it swiftly. The blinds were closed and the curtains drawn. Only a lamp turned to low glowed from the nightstand next to the bed. Stephanie lay in it, her face red, her eyes glassy and feverish. Wynn rushed to her and took her hand.
“What’s wrong, honey? How long have you been sick? Are you run down from all the traveling they’ve had you do?”
She turned her head toward him. “I’ll be fine. Sorry I can’t make dinner tonight. I know you said it was somewhere special.”
He perched on the bed beside her. “We can do dinner anytime.” He placed the back of his hand against her forehead and found her burning up. “You’ve got a high fever. Let me take you to a doc in the box.”
“No,” she said emphatically, pushing his hand from her brow. “Monty’s coming by to check on me.”
Wynn’s stomach sank. Carl Montgomery was a friend from Stephanie’s prep school days in Atlanta. Pre-med and all-knowing, Monty was the ultimate snob and made Wynn feel lower than pond scum.
“You need a real doctor, Steph. Not some wannabe who can’t even call in a prescription for you.”
She jerked her hand from his. “I can’t go to a doctor,” she hissed.
“Why?”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. She regarded him with a cool stare. “You can be such an idiot sometimes, Wynn.”
This was a side of Stephanie that popped out every now and then. When she was tired. Or sick. Or not getting her way—which was rare. Wynn had always overlooked it in the past.
Did he want this to be his future?
Of course, he did. He loved Stephanie. She was bright and funny and beautiful. They had a lot in common.
“Sorry I’m so dense. Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, hoping to placate her.
She pushed up using her elbows until she was sitting against the headboard. “I can’t go to a doctor because it might get back to my sponsors.”
“So? You’ve only got three weeks to be in top shape. You need meds in you, maybe even IV fluids, in order to get well and compete. Surely, your sponsors would want that.”
Stephanie grimaced and pushed her arms against her stomach. Fever made you ache but this was beyond a fever. She really looked in pain.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
“I’m pregnant. Or I was. Monty aborted it.”
Shock rippled through Wynn as he tried to absorb her words. Then anger began to build.
