He nodded.
To her mom, Skye said, “We’re going to call Grant’s parents with the news after we leave here.”
“Grant, I look forward to meeting your parents. I hope your whole family can come down for the wedding.”
The whole family. Thirty-two of them, counting spouses. Where would they all stay if they did come? Kings Meadow didn’t have a motel. Only a bed-and-breakfast that had three available bedrooms. He knew because that’s where he’d stayed upon his arrival in town.
His head began to throb.
Maybe he hadn’t prayed about this marriage idea enough. Maybe he hadn’t heard God’s answer after all. He’d given Rand Foster his word that he would take care of Skye, that he would make her happy. They weren’t even wed yet—not even home yet—and he was about to break that promise.
Tension emanated from Grant. Almost like a third entity in the Jeep.
When Skye dared to glance at him, his eyes were locked on the street ahead, his mouth set in a hard line. His hands gripped the steering wheel as if he might try to break it in two.
Something had gone awry, and she didn’t know what. There had been joy and laughter at her parents’ home throughout the dinner. Announcing their engagement plans had gone even better than she’d hoped it would. But something had changed before they left the house.
She didn’t have the courage to ask Grant about it. She would have to wait until he told her of his own accord.
However long that’ll be.
As soon as the Jeep stopped in her driveway, Skye opened the passenger door before Grant, per usual, could come around and open it for her. His tension had become her tension, and she couldn’t stand to wait for him. Wordlessly, she led the way up the narrow walk.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said over her shoulder as she headed to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, her breath rapid and shallow. Calm down. You don’t know anything’s wrong. Not for sure.
He loved her. That was what mattered. That was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?
She pushed off the door, stepped over to the mirror above her dresser, and stared at her reflection. Forcing herself to take a slow, deep breath, then another, she pushed her hair behind her shoulders.
Yes, that was better. Foolish to stand in here, imagining the worst. Better to go out and talk to Grant. That was what people did when they were married. They talked things through. Might as well begin now.
Drawing one more deep breath, she left the bedroom and walked the short hallway to the living room. Grant stood at the window, staring outside, his thumbs tucked into the back pockets of his jeans.
“Are we ready to make that phone call?” she asked, trying to sound normal, not sure she succeeded.
He turned toward her. “We need to talk first.”
Dread became a lump in her chest. “Okay.” She expected him to move to the sofa where they could sit, side by side, as they discussed whatever was on his mind. He didn’t. He stayed near the window, the light at his back, casting his face in shadows.
“I heard . . . I heard you talking to your mom. In the kitchen before we left. I heard you say you want a big family. I saw how much joy that idea gave you. You came alive when you talked about it. It was written all over your face.”
She nodded, glad that he understood her so well, still afraid because she didn’t know what he would say next.
“Skye, we never talked about kids. I don’t think I can give you what you want.”
This time she shook her head, confused.
“I never planned on having kids of my own,” he said softly. “No big family for me. I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Was there a medical reason? Because if—
“Won’t.” The single word dashed her brief hope. “I decided a long time ago. No kids.”
Tears welled, and she rubbed them away. “You decided,” she whispered, the words like a dagger to her chest.
“Maybe I’d better go so you can think about it. So we both can think about it. I’m sorry, Skye. Real sorry. It’s just . . . I don’t know . . . I just—” He broke off, his frustration obvious, and walked to the door. Without looking back at her, he said, “I’ll call you.”
The instant the door closed, she sank to the floor. Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she didn’t sob. Didn’t make a sound. She hadn’t the strength for more than one single thought.
So this is what a broken heart feels like.