She lay in bed, pressing her fingers gently into her armpits to find the same tiny nodules—still no pain. She moved her hand along her rib cage, relieved there were no changes there, either. Her getting away might prove to be truly therapeutic. That, and being free from a deceitful toad of a fiancé! She lay there relaxing, stretching, and pleasantly aware of the comfortable surroundings. She sighed, realizing she’d never again be held in Devon’s strong arms. Where did I go wrong with Devon? But she couldn’t let herself think of him anymore. He was out of her life through his own actions. Wasn’t it better this way than finding out later, closer to the wedding . . . or worse yet, even after? She rolled over, fighting back a jumble of emotions—anger and sadness and bewilderment—and reached for her phone. Sitting up, she checked for any missed calls during the night, never having been one to sleep with her phone on—and without electricity here, she needed to conserve her battery.
