No, he thought, as he got into his truck and followed her out of the Chesterfield driveway. She couldn’t have changed her mind. If she told him she didn’t want to get married, he wasn’t sure how he would cope. After the incredible year they’d spent together, he’d never be able to face a future without her. Alex was fully prepared to fight for her, no matter what it took.

He stopped at the grocery store and picked up sandwiches as well as a bottle of the iced tea she loved and headed for home. As he passed the retail store, he slowed to take a look at the activity, more out of habit than actual interest. The only thing he was interested in at the moment was Jenny.

Behind the retail store, he hung a left onto a new dirt lane that had been created by the construction vehicles that had traversed the property while their house was being built. It was down to finish work now, and he was doing most of that himself. They were on schedule to move in before the wedding, and until recently, he’d been under the impression that she was looking forward to the next month as much as he was. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Jenny was sitting on the front stairs waiting for him when he pulled up and shut off the truck. The two-story shingled colonial had four bedrooms, plenty of space for the family they hoped to have. He grabbed the bag from the store and got out to walk over to her. “Inside or out here?”

“It’s so pretty outside today.”

“Outside it is.”

“Is it me or is the air different this month?”

“It’s not you. Happens every September. The humidity disappears, the days are clear, and the nights are chilly. I love it.”

“I do, too.” She accepted the turkey wrap he’d gotten for her and smiled at him when he produced the iced tea. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They ate in silence, which had Alex’s roast beef sandwich landing like a brick in his stomach. His Jenny wasn’t quiet or withdrawn, especially not with him. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know what was bothering her. “We need to talk, babe.”

She glanced at him, the trepidation in her expression tugging at his heart. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

He had to force himself to say the words, to ask the question that had to be asked, even if the answer had the power to devastate him. “Do you still want to get married?”

She gasped. “Why would you ask me that? Do you not want to?”