Ava lay on the couch and wiped her raw nose again. Her head throbbed with shooting pain and she wanted to close her eyes and drift off to sleep, but she couldn’t. Damn this flu.

Connor would be here soon, she thought, with some consolation. Wincing in pain, she blew her nose yet again and sank back onto the couch, dragging the chenille blanket up to her neck.

Swatches of peach-colored organza and pale pink silk fabric lay on the side at her feet. As soon as her mind cleared enough she would choose one fabric and this would signal the start of the wedding favors sub-project. For now she was too congested to think straight.

Wearily she grabbed the television control. When Harry Met Sally was on and she flicked back and forth between live coverage of the New Year’s Eve celebrations in Times Square and the romantic film she had seen countless times. It was 11:14 p.m.

Connor will be here soon. What’s keeping him so long?

~~

The loud cheers on TV woke her up. The Robitussin had done its job and she had managed to slip into a delicious sleep. Ava shook her head, not quite believing the clock on the television screen. It was midnight already.  A digital counter in one corner of the screen counted down, “10… 9…8…7…”

No sign of Connor anywhere.

She grabbed her cell and called him, her heart racing with thoughts of anything and everything that could have gone wrong.

Dear god, not now.

“5…4…”

“Connor?  Where are you? I’ve been worried sick.”  A part of her was relieved to hear his voice again and to know that he was all right, and another part of her was angry that he wasn’t by her side on this special night.

“3…2…1…Happy New Year, everybody!” The crowds went crazy in the main square and New Year’s Eve confetti rained down from the skies.

It was here. The New Year had finally arrived. And the wedding was only six weeks away. A burst of happiness exploded through her, wiping out the worry she had felt when Connor hadn’t turned up.

“Happy New Year, darling.” She smiled as she said it, even though her head hurt and her throat felt as though it had been sandpapered.

There was a pause at the other end.

“I can’t do it, Ava. I’m sorry.” Connor sounded dull and quiet, but in the background she could hear everyone at Russell’s house party screaming and hooting for joy.

She blinked in confusion. Had she heard him right? Maybe the Robitussen was playing tricks on her.

“Can’t do what, Connor?” she asked in a muffled voice, as she wiped her nose with a soggy Kleenex.

“I can’t marry you. I’m sorry. I can’t go through with it.” His words cut her more than her throbbing headache or throat.

“What? Connor?” What did you just say?

“I’m sorry, I can’t go through with the wedding. I don’t think I love you.”

She had heard him the first time.

I don’t think I love you.

From deep inside her, she managed to find the strength to say, “You don’t?” but it was more to herself, than to him, and then she hung up. She felt as though she was back in high school, tall, gangly, big-eyed, and long-necked and the coolest girls in school picked on her for looking like a freak. Then as now, she felt her body shaking all over, except that it didn’t really feel as though she was inside it. The next moment she collapsed backwards onto the couch and let out a gut wrenching scream, flinging her arms out and sending the swatches of organza and silk fabric hovering delicately to the floor. She heard a primal, guttural sound ringing in the air and it took her a few seconds to figure out that it was her voice.

I don’t think I love you.

Their wedding was only six weeks away.

Buy it now!