disappointment in a life of disappointments had driven her over the edge. He was the last person she had totally trusted. And heâd betrayed her.
âOr was it because while you two were broke up, he and Dana had a little fling? Not that he ever cared a whit for the likes of her.â
âHow did you know that?â
âGigi told me.â
Van was appalled to feel tears spring to her eyes. She was thirty years old, and a teenage crush could bring her to tears? She looked away, trying to pull herself together.
She saw a white tissue appear in front of her nose. Recognized Dottieâs Arenât You Something red polish.
âBecause if it was that, I have two . . .â Dorie counted on her fingers. âThree words for you. Get. Over. It.â
âIt wasnât,â Van said, and sniffed. âNobody carries a torch for a high school sweetheart for all this time.â
âThen what was it?â
âItâs what happened after . . . the spat.â
Van was aware of Suzeâs arrested attention. Dorie leaned forward. Here it was. Dorie deserved an explanation. And now that it was time, Van looked forward to getting it all out. Sort of. She took a breath. Just start. She had no doubt the rest of the story would pour out. It had been bottled up long enough.
âI got pregnant.â
Suze looked down at her wineglass.
Dorie narrowed her eyes. âAnd for that you left town and were never heard from again until today?â
âUm, Dorie?â Suze said.
Dorie waved her away. âDonât you think thatâs a little melodramatic? Even for an Irish girl? Joe woulda done right by you. You know he would.â
Van and Suze exchanged looks. âIt didnât matter. I lost the baby.â
âLost or . . . ?â Dorie left the end of the question unasked, but Van knew what she was saying.
âI miscarried. Ask Suze.â
Suze nodded confirmation.
Dorie turned on Suze. âYou knew about this and didnât call me? Of all theââ
âI couldnât. I had my hands full at the time. I nearly called.â She stopped to give Van an apologetic look. âVan almost died.She waited so long before she called that by the time I drove to Manhattan and got her to the hospital, sheâd nearly bled to death.â
âBut I still donât see why you had to run in the first place. Did you even tell Joe?â
Van shook her head.
âBecause of Dana? Gigi told me you caught them going at it. But that didnât last long enough for her to get her clothes back on. He loved you. We all thought you two would end up getting married. You could have been married before the baby came.â
Van stood up abruptly. Walked to the window. The old anger, hurt, and humiliation overflowed into the present. When the words came, they were harsh and louder than sheâd meant. âIt wasnât Joeâs baby.â
She stood facing the two women, defiant. At least it was out. That part was out at least.
âWell, hell,â Dorie said, her voice subdued. âAre you sure it wasnât Joeâs?â
âPositive.â
Dorie looked at her hard. Raised her eyebrows in question.
Van shook her head and Dorie let out a big sigh. Evidently still not convinced, she asked, âYou and Joe never . . . ?â
âNo.â
âAnd the father?â
âI donât know. I donât remember his name. Iâm not sure I even knew it then. I just had a knee-jerk reaction and . . .â She ended with a shrug.
âYou always were so responsible.â
âAnd the one time I wasnât, look where it got me.â
âDid you tell your father?â
Van nodded. âI donât know what I was thinking. I wasnât thinking. He was yelling at me about something else, and I just blurtedit out.â After all these years, knowing that his words could still hurt was appalling. âHe told me I was a whore just like