"Whitney, I don't know where to start with this . . ."
"Just start at the beginning, Mom."
Eve looked at her daughter. "I want you to know that I'm not proud of the things I did back then—of the things I'm going to tell you about."
"Yeah, I've got that," Whitney said. "What happened when you met Julian?"
A lump lodged in Eve's throat.
Whitney had grown into a level-headed and responsible young woman. Whitney could handle the truth.
"At first, being with Julian was like a fantasy," Eve whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "He wined me and dined me at fancy restaurants and whisked me off to Bermuda the second one of us had the whim."
Eve's eyes filled with tears. "I didn't have enough life experience to know how deeply he could hurt me, Whitney. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was really living—with a man I thought loved me."
"What did that life entail, Mom?" Whitney asked. "I mean, besides all the fancy dinners and vacations."
Eve's eyes fell to the ground. "It included a lot of drinking and drugs."
Whitney gasped.
Eve's heart stopped.
How had her life come to this?
"Drinking and drugs?" Whitney squeaked out.
Eve looked up. "I . . . I thought I could handle it," she stammered. "But I became addicted before I knew it was happening—and then Julian dropped me flat."
Eve choked back a sob, fresh tears springing to her eyes. "The next time I saw him, he was on a date with Ivy—and I was three months pregnant."
Tears swelling in the corners of her eyes, Whitney bit down on her lip.
"I didn't know, Whitney," Eve cried. "I didn't know about the baby at first. The second I found out I was pregnant, I gave up the drugs and alcohol cold turkey—but I was terrified that it was too late."
Whitney inhaled a sharp breath.
Eve gulped for air. "When the doctor told me that my baby had died, I just figured it was a punishment I had coming," she cried. "I had no idea that Alistair had interfered."
"Alistair interfered?" Whitney's voice thickened with emotion. "What are you talking about, Mom?"
"He tried to have my son with Julian killed," Eve sobbed. "He hired someone to murder him."
"Oh my God." Whitney's hands flew to her mouth; tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Julian and I only found out recently that one of the men Alistair hired had second thoughts," Eve said. "He switched our baby with another one who had died at the hospital and whisked our son off to God knows where."
Whitney's eyes widened. "Your . . . your son is alive?"
"I'm praying with everything I have that he is." Eve's voice strained with pain. "Julian and I haven't gone public with this information because we're afraid that Alistair might retaliate—that we might be putting our son in danger."
Whitney's hand slipped down her face. "But isn't Alistair in a coma?"
"He is, but you never know with that man," Eve cried. "I'm sorry to burden you with all of this, Whitney, but you wanted to know the truth."
"I did." Whitney shifted on her feet, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry about everything you went through. I had no idea, Mom."
"I know you didn't," Eve sobbed. "I'm sorry that I kept this from you, Whitney. I'm so sorry for everything."
Hank's eyes darted up as Sheridan made her way into the youth center's office.
His cheeks burning, he stuffed the picture he'd been looking at into his pocket.
"What are you looking at?" Sheridan smiled." Did I just spot an engagement ring?'
"Okay . . . yes—maybe you did." Hank's heartbeat accelerated. "Luis told you about our conversation, didn't he?"
"He only told me the bare essentials." Curling her fingers around her belly, Sheridan's smile grew. "He didn't give me any of the important details—nothing about how, where, or when."
Hank sighed, his chest deflating. "That's because I haven't figured any of that out yet. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to finance the ring."
"Gwen's going to love anything you get her." Placing one hand on her back, Sheridan lowered herself down onto a chair.
"Are you sure about that?" Hank pulled the picture out of his pocket. "What do you think about this?"
Sheridan took the picture from him. "Oh, Hank, it's beautiful!"
"It's the most I could afford." Hank hung his head. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to the ring that Ethan gave to her."
Sheridan looked up. "Luis told me you were worried about that. Hank, you've got to stop comparing what you can afford to what Ethan could afford when he was a Crane—Gwen doesn't care about that."
"Maybe she doesn't, but I do," Hank said. "Gwen's used to the finer things in life, and I don't want to disappoint her."
"You could never disappoint her," Sheridan said, placing the picture back on the desk. "Gwen loves you, Hank."
Hank picked up the picture and frowned. "Yeah, but does she love me enough to marry beneath her?"
"How could you even think that, Hank?" Sheridan wrapped her hands around her belly. "Is that what you think about me and Luis?"
"No—not at all." Hank's eyes flew up to Sheridan's. "But Luis has always been a stand-up guy—while I usually screw up."
"Hank, that's not true."
"Yes, it is." Hank looked at the picture for another second and then stuffed it into a drawer. "I mean, look at the ring Luis gave to you. Even though he couldn't afford a traditional diamond, he still gave you something special—I can't even give Gwen anything like that."
Sheridan glanced down at her engagement ring, twisted it around her finger, and then looked back up at Hank. "And do you think I married Luis because of the ring he gave me?"
"No, of course not," Hank said. "You married Luis because you love him for the all-around great guy he is."
"He is a great guy." Sheridan smiled sadly. "But so are you, Hank."
"Nah—I haven't done half the heroic things Luis has done." Hank dismissed Sheridan's compliment with a wave of his hand. "Just look at how many times he's saved your life."
"You've saved my life, too," Sheridan insisted. "If you hadn't fought to tell Luis that I was buried alive, I might not have made it out of that coffin."
Hank pressed his lips together.
"Don't forget how you spearheaded the trip to Mexico to warn us about my father," Sheridan pressed on. "Or how you threw yourself under Gwen when the bomb exploded just so she wouldn't get hurt."
"Even back then, I liked Gwen," Hank said.
"Yes," Sheridan agreed, "but you no longer had feelings for me. You helped Luis and me because you have a good heart—and because you're a great friend."
Hank raised his brows, his eyes flooding with skepticism. "But does being a good friend really mean I'd be a good husband?"
Sheridan folded her hands over the top of her belly. "Hank, besides all of the heroics, what do you admire most about Luis?"
"I don't know." Hank shrugged his shoulders. "That he's the type of guy who is always there for you—the type of person who always has your back—no matter how much you screw up."
Sheridan smirked. "And who else—in the recent past—has embodied those qualities, too?"
Hank's eyes sparked to life. "Okay—I see your point. I was there for Gwen when she screwed up—I even helped her a bit."
"You not only helped her with the tabloid scandal," Sheridan said. "You helped her get her entire life back on track."
"Maybe," Hank said. "But Gwen is also an amazing woman. I'm pretty sure that she would have figured everything out on her own."
"I agree," Sheridan said. "But knowing that you have her back certainly made things easier for her. She's told me that several times herself."
"She has?" Hank's heart swelled with hope.
"Over and over again," Sheridan laughed. "Gwen's completely transformed her life over these past few months, but you've also supported her the entire way—even when she otherwise might have felt completely alone."
"The way Rebecca's been treating her is really messed up," Hank said.
"I agree," Sheridan said, "but who's stood beside Gwen day in and day out since that started happening—reminding her that she deserves better?"
His face and heart brightening, Hank sat up straighter. "I . . . I'm the one who's done that."
