Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

at the few events that included both their families in the years since V.J. and Carolyn got married, but not tonight.
    Tonight she needed to find an answer to the pressing question:
    Exactly how big an SOB was Ron?
    After an awkward beat or two, Justus took the hint.
    “Well. Good to see you,” he told Angela, then steered Janet toward their server, who led them to a booth near theirs.
    Angela immediately turned back to Ron, who squared his shoulders and regarded her warily.
    “Is there someone else, Ronnie? Is that what this is about?”
    “Of course not!” He got the outrage right, but his gaze skittered away. “But...I need some time to get my head together.”
    Angela nearly choked on her shock. Oh, God, he was lying. Right to her face.
    Random thoughts churned uselessly in her brain, threatening to make her dizzy.
    Everything he’d said tonight was a lie, except for the part about not wanting to marry her. That was true. He didn’t love her, even though he’d told her for years that he did. So he’d either fallen out of love with her, or he’d never loved her in the first place.
    Both options were equally appalling.
    “So that’s it?” she demanded, her hysteria-tinged voice louder than she’d intended.
    Ronnie cringed. A few feet away, Justus looked up from his menu and stared openly, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t listening.
    Embarrassed—she must never, never make a scene in public, no matter how upset she was—Angela planted her elbows on the table and rubbed her forehead with shaking hands.
    “After three years and telling me you wanted to get married when the time was right and stringing me along,” she continued, keeping her voice low, “ that’s it? ”
    “No, Angela.”
    Ronnie reached over and tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away, sending her glass of wine crashing to the tile floor with an explosive crash that had everyone in the dining room gaping at them.
    A worried-looking server scurried over to sop up the mess.
    Angela barely noticed.
    How could this be happening?
    She and Ronnie were the perfect couple. Everyone always said so. She was a lawyer; he was a doctor. They both loved Martha’s Vineyard in August and the opera and movies. They both worked at the homeless shelter every Thanksgiving. Sure, they’d never been able to spend as much time together as they would’ve liked, but that was only because they both worked so hard on their careers. They’d always been on the same page...until now. Now Ronnie, the man she loved, her best friend, the man whose children she’d thought she’d bear, had thrown a stick of lit dynamite into the middle of their relationship and blown it up.
    She gasped. Ah, God, she couldn’t breathe...couldn’t breathe...Her throat strained and she wondered if she was on the verge of her first panic attack ever. Wouldn’t that be funny? A hysterical bark of laughter surged out of her mouth before she clutched the edges of the table and tried to get a grip on herself.
    Ronnie shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
    Justus stared.
    Angela pressed a hand to her neck.
    Ronnie cleared his throat. “I know this is hard right now, but I’m hoping that one day we can...you know...be friends.”
    With that final insulting nail driven into the coffin of her dreams, Angela lost it. Choking back a sob by clapping a hand over her mouth, she got up, snatched her purse and coat from the back of her chair, and, ignoring Ron’s voice calling after her, ran from the dining room.
    But when she passed the hostess station, it occurred to her that she was stranded unless she submitted to the indignity of letting Ron drive her home, which she would not.
    Shit.
    She looked left and right, desperately needing someplace to hide. Unfortunately, her choices were limited to the crowded bar area, where a hundred more people could see her fall apart, or the ladies’ room. Ladies’ room it was. Jerking open the door, she looked over her shoulder to the hostess,