I’m rounding the corner to head back to my seat when the sound of footsteps drawing near has me retreating right back to the safety of the abandoned hall.

“Darci, the wedding should have started ten minutes ago. We don’t have time for whatever this is.”

I recognize the voice as that of the groom, Trent.

He sounds like a fucking douche—a mental assessment that I’m sure has everything to do with the fact that he’s about to marry my girl.

“She’s refusing to leave that bridal suite until she talks to you,” her friend clips. “So get in there and let’s get this show on the road, please.”

The door creaks open, and I find myself holding my breath until I hear it click shut.

I should use this opening to escape unseen. No one would ever know I was out here stalking the bride like a total creeper.

But of course, that’s not the road I choose.

Instead, I flatten my ear to the wall, straining to make out the hushed conversation on the other side. I catch something about a breakup a few months ago when Trent dumped her because things were getting too serious. As a result, Sammi and a few of her friends took off for a girls’ week in the Bahamas to drown her sorrows. Apparently, weeks went by before he came to his senses and went crawling back with his tail between his legs. They got back together on the day her father learned of his grim prognosis. It was then that she asked Trent to marry her, so Wayne would have the opportunity to walk her down the aisle before he passed.

“Why are we rehashing all this now? Baby,” he croons, “that’s all water under the bridge. We’re about to be married.”

“Just give me a minute to get this out, please.” The crack in her voice makes me want to rush in there and rescue her from whatever it is she’s trying to confess.

“Trent…I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

All I hear is the sound of my own heart clattering to the floor in a billion pieces. Because this settles it. There’s no way I’m coming between a child and its father.

“Pregnant?” Trent finally sputters. “We’re having a baby?”

“Well, yes and…and no. I mean, I’m having a baby.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” he snarls. “Oh, this is rich…and after I agreed to marry you? You can’t keep my child from me, Samantha.”

“It might not be yours!” she shouts.

Hope restored, my adrenaline soars.

“Come again?”

“I slept with someone.”

“Who?” he bellows. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands!”