“I can’t do this to you.” Her words had repeated in his head from the moment she uttered them. What had they meant?

In addition to searching the magazines and articles on the lady, he’d also downloaded the book she’d been reading on the beach.

The book was solely geared toward a woman contemplating having a child without the benefit of a husband or partner. Coupling that information with what Avery had suggested—they were there to find someone for Shannon—it stood to reason that maybe Shannon had moved past the contemplating stage of having a child on her own and on to the execution stage of her plan.

So he’d asked her to wait.

Not that he’d be silent for three months.

In fact . . .

He removed his cell phone from his pocket and found her number. He clicked on her number and opened a text message.

He asked one question.

Are you still waiting?

It took a few seconds for the knowing little dots to tell him she was responding.

Victor?

He had no right being this happy.

Good answer, he replied.

I thought for sure you’d be back to work by now.

He smiled. I am. No one is looking me in the eye.

That’s rough.

He stepped out of character and asked, How would you handle it?

You want my advice?

Yes.

Ignoring the elephant in the room never makes it go away.

Victor rubbed his chin and grinned. Wise and beautiful.

The telling dots went on for quite a while, as if she were typing something, changing her mind, and then restarting.

You said three months, Victor. Now go away.

He laughed out loud.

The phone on his desk buzzed.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Everyone is gathered in the boardroom, Mr. Brooks.”

Had it been an hour? He looked at the time.

Daydreaming about Shannon was very time-consuming.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

He opened his phone to a different app and slowly made his way to the meeting.

No one looked at him as he walked the hall, and many people scattered out of his path to avoid contact.

He was the elephant.

Inside the boardroom, the talking came to an abrupt halt with his presence.

“Good morning,” he said.

A chorus of replies similar in nature returned.

Then silence.

He placed his phone on the table and pressed play.

His staff exchanged nervous glances as the drum riff of Simon and Garfunkel’s hit about all the ways to leave your lover started to fill the room. When the words started to sink in and the chorus played, the nervous looks of his employees turned to smiles and laughter.

Victor was pretty sure he burped up mezcal at the memory of singing the song with a near stranger in a Tulum bar.

The song ended and the air in the room eased.

“Seems Corrie realized I was a workaholic asshole, wised up, and ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could.”

No one in the room disagreed with him.

Not one.

He laughed. “Okay . . . tell me what I missed.”

Shannon’s studio was a tight, comfortable space with a room in the back fit for photo shoots. Her small office sported a TV-size monitor where she could scroll through the images she’d taken and narrow down the best shots without clicking on each one.

Even though Victor and Corrie’s wedding was one that would never have the bride and the groom skimming the images, Shannon found herself sifting through the pictures anyway.

The tightness in the faces of the bride and groom had been passed off as nerves at the time, but now when she was looking at them, Shannon saw something completely different.

Doubt.

Easily deduced in light of Corrie taking off, but even with Victor. He’d been so uptight when she first started taking his photograph with his groomsmen.

She came across the pictures she’d managed of Victor and Justin. Their resemblance really popped on camera, especially when they smiled.

Shannon filed a couple of the better, more natural shots in a folder and continued through the pictures. She’d taken several shots while the guests were being seated . . . of Victor standing on the sidelines, waiting for word that Corrie was on her way. She zoomed in on an image where Justin was saying something to Victor that drew out a heated response. Then she found one of Victor looking at his watch.

From then on, the images she caught were pictures no one realized she was taking. Her lens had focused on Victor when he’d told his guests that his bride had cold feet. His gaze looked over the people, avoiding eye contact. Embarrassed? Upset? Shannon couldn’t decipher his mood.

The somber mood of the people that lingered after Victor left could be felt in the photographs. They huddled in small groups, drank the free liquor, ate the food. At some point someone made an executive decision to set the food up on a long table, and the local families that walked up and down the beach tempting tourists with their handmade trinkets were offered a free meal.

That was when Shannon took picture after picture.

The local children laughed with their siblings with bright eyes and animated faces. They stuffed their bodies with food and their souls with their family. These kids had next to nothing in terms of things. It was apparent in their lack of shoes that fit and the clothes that looked as if they’d been passed down six times before reaching their backs. But they had what so many people didn’t.

Each other.

For the first time in a long while, Shannon thought of her own sister. Where was she now? Angie had dropped out of school to join the Peace Corps years ago, eventually finished school in Spain, and had continued her volunteer efforts tutoring English in remote locations in Brazil. When she didn’t come home for the holidays again last year, her mother had hinted that Angie was considering traveling to Africa next.

“That girl won’t be happy until she contracts some incurable disease.”

Their parents didn’t approve.

On impulse, Shannon fished her cell phone from her purse and dialed the only number she had for her sister.

The phone rang four times and went to voice mail, a common occurrence with a woman who frequented places that didn’t have running water.

“Hey, Angie . . . it’s Shannon. I was thinking about you and wanted to catch up. Where the heck are you now? It’s been too long. I love you, sis. Call me sometime.”

She disconnected the call with a shrug. She’d left messages like that in the past, only to hear back six months later in the form of a card or word passed on through their parents.

Somewhere around the time Shannon married Paul, her sister had faded out of her life without explanation. Shannon asked herself why. They never crossed words, agreed on most political positions, and got along when she did show her face.

Shannon had never come right out and asked her sister what she had done to be ignored. Probably because she wasn’t prepared to hear the answer.

Who was she kidding? Alone with her own thoughts, she couldn’t be honest with herself.

Angie had never approved of Paul. When they’d announced their engagement and rapid trip to the chapel, her sister sent a brief letter. The words had been etched in Shannon’s brain for years.

What happened to my sister with her big dreams of fixing the screwed up world one revealing photograph at a time and ideals that weren’t spoon-fed by our parents? You’re selling out. You’re more than some man’s political wife.

Her sister had been right, which hurt to hear. But at the time it solved so many problems. Shannon was outsmarting her parents by signing a temporary contract to be Paul’s wife.

The arrangement was a two-year job she was utterly skilled at performing. She hadn’t dated anyone seriously since college, so when presented with a marriage that would end with six million in her account and a home—and her parents off her back—she took it. The only downfall Shannon foresaw at the time was if she’d met someone during her marriage and couldn’t act on it.

She didn’t expect that someone to be the man she was married to . . . and she didn’t expect to leave her marriage rich yet in shambles.

Shannon’s sellout had backfired.

At least that’s how she viewed her brief time as a political wife. That was, until she met the women in the First Wives Club. Lori, Trina, and Avery became the supportive sisters she needed. They didn’t judge her with condescending eyes, they understood her with loving hearts.

They lifted her up and gave her the courage to take an active step forward in her life.

She came out of hiding the year Lori pushed the four of them to take a Mediterranean cruise together. Her small wedding photography business had picked up, giving her purpose.

Shannon looked at the images of the fragmented Brooks wedding.

Flowers and finery . . . dressed up guests and grooms. She was good at wedding photography, but she’d be lying to herself if she said she had true passion for it.

Earning money for posed pictures was not what Shannon had studied in college.

In a way, she was still selling out.

Wedding photography was safe.

Marrying Paul had been safe.

Kissing a jilted groom, not safe at all.

She was tired of the safety net. Wasn’t that why she was considering a one-night stand in an effort to have a baby? Was it rebellion, or was she playing it safe to have a child alone in an effort to save her heart from breaking again?

Shannon powered down her computer, grabbed her camera bag, and locked the door behind her as she left.