Page 29 of A Gingerbread Romance

He swallowed back the nausea that rose to his throat, remembering how he’d walked in on them one afternoon. They’d been rolling around in his and Carla’s own bed, for Judas’ sake, when he’d returned home early from a business trip. The moments still haunted him.

How could someone cheat on the person they were engaged to with such boldness, such callous indifference? When the dust settled, hours later, she’d sat him down and explained that she and Donald had been seeing each other behind his back for six months. That the wedding was off. That she was in love. That she was leaving him for Donald.

Jonathan’s chest tightened. How had he not seen it coming? It still escaped him. Had he been that naïve?

Greta cleared her throat, and Jonathan suddenly remembered that she was standing next to him. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Greta, this is Carla. And Donald.” He gestured awkwardly, barely meeting Don’s eye. “This is Greta.”

“How nice to meet you,” said Carla, surveying Greta.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Greta said politely. Jonathan could hear the unease in her voice. She’d obviously caught on that something here wasn’t quite as it seemed.

He’d been so trusting of Carla when they were together, or had he simply chosen to cast a blind eye and ignore the fact that something was going on between her and Don? Because looking back, all the signs had been there.

Sure, things had been great for them in the beginning, when she’d still been in love with Jonathan. And he’d suspected something was different, toward the end. He just hadn’t suspected a full-blown affair.

What if he’d married her and wound up with a cheating wife instead of just a cheating girlfriend? He should probably thank ol’ Don here for saving him from spending the rest of his life with her. Or from an early divorce.

Even now, though, he could barely look at the guy. What had Carla seen in him besides his beefy exterior? The man had muscles and classically good looks, sure, but there wasn’t much upstairs. Jonathan could only assume he ran around, satisfying her every bidding. Donald needed Carla’s money, and he treated her like a queen, from what he could tell.

Jonathan had never done that. His thoughts continued to churn.

When Jonathan didn’t ask what they were doing in town, Carla offered the information. “So, we’re staying at the ski resort this weekend and decided to come to town for dinner. And then this cute little festival was going on, so we walked around under the lights. It’s such a pretty little town. Do you live here?” she said to Greta. “It’s so quaint.”

“Yes, I do.” Greta smiled, ignoring what to Jonathan sounded like a derogatory tone. “Thank you. It’s lovely this time of year.”

Carla returned a characteristic fake smile.

She’d been to New Haven Falls several times with him in the past when they’d come out for the weekend to visit Wade or Tim. Luke hadn’t lived here when they’d been together. She knew very well what the town was like. This was typical Carla blowing smoke.

“Well, we were just on our way home,” Jonathan said abruptly, not really minding if he came across as rude. “We should be going.” He glanced at Greta, who looked a little confused.

“Okay, well, it was great seeing you, Jonathan.” How was it that Carla could act like there was no sordid, messed-up history between them? Like this was some sort of at-long-last reunion? Why had she even stopped him and acted like they were just normal old friends who’d run into each other? Rather than…whatever it was they were now. Not exactly enemies, but they’d never be friends again.

Jonathan took the hand Don pumped in front of him and shook it, although it took every ounce of his control not to offer some sort of snide remark.

“Dude,” said Don with a nod.

Most people would wonder why Jonathan hadn’t knocked the guy to the ground three years ago rather than just giving him a piece of his mind—or why he didn’t right now—but what was the point in hating him? Jonathan had dodged the bullet. Don had stepped in front of it. “I’ll see you around,” Jonathan answered flatly.

Carla wiggled her silky-gloved fingers at them and turned, sliding her arm through Don’s, then strutted back the way she’d come.

Jonathan started down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, his blood simmering.

Greta followed. “What was that about?” she whispered when they’d gotten far enough away. “Who is she?”

Jonathan kept his head down, hands in his pockets. “The ex-girlfriend I mentioned earlier.” His thoughts were swimming, and that was all he wanted to say about it.

“It didn’t end well, I’m guessing?”

He laughed dryly. “Nope.”

They walked in silence for another few blocks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Greta asked when they reached the walkway in front of her house. “If you want to come in, we could sit in front of the fire and hang out a while—”

“—No, thank you,” he said, glancing over. “I definitely don’t want to talk about it.” He started down the walkway toward the house with long strides, and she hurried along beside him. An hour ago, he’d have jumped at the chance to cozy up and sit by a fire with Greta tonight. And at some point, he’d appreciate her concern, but right now, all he wanted, really, was to go back to the apartment and be alone. Maybe pour himself a stiff drink. Forget he’d ever seen Carla. Ever dated her. Ever let her destroy him.

Because he felt like he was right back there now, three years ago, just a few weeks past the missed wedding date, vowing—not to honor and cherish that woman for the rest of his life—but, never to let this sort of thing happen to him again. And so far, it had worked.

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