Knit 9

“Come on, pick up. Pick up.”

As soon as Jenna had escaped from her dead-end argument with Gage, she’d headed downstairs and straight to the phone. If anyone could rescue her from her ex-husband’s heavy-handed caveman routine, it would be Grace and Ronnie. After all, they’d led the charge to get her into this, they could certainly help get her out.

It took six rings, but finally Ronnie answered her cell phone with a muted, “Hello?”

“Help,” Jenna said frantically, “I’m being held hostage by a raving lunatic who doesn’t want a baby, but doesn’t want me to have one, either.”

“What happened? Are you all right?” Ronnie asked. She continued to whisper as though she didn’t want anyone else to overhear her conversation.

“I’m fine, at least for now. But Gage got loose right after we talked this morning and threw a fit. No less than I expected, I guess,” she admitted in a somewhat deflated tone. “Then he left, and I thought the worst was over, but he’s back. He’s back, Ronnie, and he’s moving in. He says he’s not leaving until I take one of the home pregnancy tests he brought with him and he knows for sure whether or not I’m knocked up. Of course, if I am, he may never leave. I may be stuck with him for the rest of my natural life!”

She made it sound like a fate worse than death, but deep down, a tiny voice was asking if that would be so bad. Would it really be so horrible to be stuck with Gage, possibly married again, raising a child together?

And the long and the short of it was no, it wouldn’t be so bad. It might even be nice. That hadn’t been her reason for jumping on board Grace’s “baby, oh, baby” plan, but it might be a nice side benefit. After all, if Gage hadn’t changed horses in midstream by declaring he no longer wanted to have children with her, they would probably still be married and she’d be bouncing baby number two or three on her hip by now.

But somehow this felt more disappointing than she’d expected. It wasn’t the thrill and excitement of a couple wanting a child and celebrating its conception together. What had she been thinking trying to rope him into a life she wanted, but he definitely didn’t? Oh, yeah, now she remembered. She hadn’t been thinking; the tequila had.

“Are you okay?” Ronnie wanted to know. “Has he hurt you or are you afraid he’ll hurt you?”

“Of course not,” Jenna answered automatically. Gage would never hurt her-not physically, anyway.

“Then… I hate to do this to you, sweetie, but you’re on your own. We’re in the middle of a major meltdown over here.”

Jenna jerked slightly in surprise, her pulse kicking up in concern. “Why? What’s wrong?”

If possible, Ronnie’s voice dropped even lower. “We drove to Columbus to surprise Dylan and Zack, just like we’d planned. Except Grace was the one who ended up getting the biggest shock. She walked into Zack’s room and found another woman in his bed.”

Jenna gasped, her mouth falling open in disbelief, but before she could say anything, Ronnie went on.

“She was understandably upset. Insisted we leave, so we drove back home. She’s spending half the time sobbing and half the time raging. I’m seriously worried she’s going to hurt herself, hurt someone else, or make herself sick with grief.”

“Oh, no,” Jenna moaned. “This is terrible. I can’t believe he did this to her. What a jag-off.”

“To say the least,” Ronnie grumbled. “You should hear the creative names Grace has been calling him. I knew she had a mouth on her when motivated, but she’s been really imaginative today.”

“Where are you? Your place or hers?”

There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end, and in the background Jenna could hear the sound of crying, punctuated by the occasional screech, peppered with thumps, bumps, and crashes. And once in a while, the deep, heartfelt bellow of Bruiser, Zack’s mammoth Saint Bernard.

“Actually,” Ronnie responded after a moment, “we’re at Zack’s place. She wouldn’t let me take her anywhere else. And as soon as we hit the parking garage… she completely destroyed his Hummer, Jenna. Took a baseball bat to it. I should have stopped her. I tried a couple of times, but an armed and angry Grace Fisher is kind of intimidating.”

“Good God,” Jenna muttered.

“I hope there were no security cameras down there, or we’re both going to jail. And don’t think less of me for saying this,” Ronnie went on, “but part of me thinks the bastard deserves what he gets. The other is just downright worried about Grace. She’s acting crazed, Jenna. I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Yeah, well, she’s never had a fiancé cheat on her before.”

“True. I’d probably feel the same way if Dylan ever cheated on me. And I’d go straight for all his dearest, most prized possessions.”

Maybe it was shallow and petty, but Jenna concurred.

“I’m on my way. Don’t let her hurt herself, Ronnie. If she starts going off the deep end or things get truly scary-”

“Why do you think I haven’t left her alone? I can’t decide if I should worry about her committing suicide or homicide. If Zack were here, I swear he’d have a skate blade buried between his eyes by now. Or his groin.”

Jenna would have liked to laugh at that, but it simply wasn’t funny.

“Give me half an hour,” she said before disconnecting and racing back to the dining room to grab her purse.

After three steps, she came to a screeching halt and yelped in surprise. “Good Lord, Gage. Give a gal some warning next time, would you? Stomp your feet or whistle or something instead of sneaking up on me like that.”

He raised a brow. “I didn’t sneak. You just weren’t paying attention. What’s with the phone call?” he asked, indicating the cordless phone she’d left on the kitchen island.

It was clear he’d heard most, if not all, of her side of the conversation, and she was so thoroughly offended with Zack on her best friend’s behalf that she’d morphed immediately into “all men are scum” mode.

“Your friend”-she spat the word like it was cursed-“is an asshole.”

Despite her charge and bitter tone, his face remained impassive. “Which one?”

“Zack, the two-timing dickweed. Grace showed up at his hotel to surprise him and found another woman in his bed. I’m headed over to help talk her down before the police show up.”

She took a step forward and grabbed her purse, swinging the strap over her shoulder on her way to the front door. “They should arrest Zack for being a lying, cheating bastard,” she muttered, somehow deciding that if she couldn’t take out her derision on Zack himself, the nearest male-namely Gage-would do.

But when she banged out of the house, sans the satisfying slam of the front door, she frowned and turned around to find Gage standing on the porch behind her, gently closing the door she’d intended to rattle.

“What are you doing?” she wanted to know.

“Going with you.”

She made a completely unladylike noise somewhere between a scoff and a snort. “I don’t think so.”

A slow, humorless smile stretched his lips until two rows of straight white teeth were visible in the glow of the porch light. Jenna took a breath, her heart skipping a beat as she realized he looked eerily like a rabid wolf, baring its fangs just before going for the jugular.

“I do,” he replied, his tone remaining soft and perfectly regulated. “When I said I was sticking around until I knew for sure whether or not you’re pregnant, I meant I’m sticking to you. Consider me your new best friend.”

“I already have a best friend,” she countered, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and belatedly realizing she’d forgotten to grab a jacket.

Not that she’d attempt to get past him and back into the house now. Not even if they were in the middle of a blizzard, in Antarctica, and her nose had just fallen off from frostbite.