This part is dedicated to Sarah, and everyone else who wanted the wedding to be called off! And no, Lacey, Lisa does not die :~) I was inspired to write this chapter after listening to 98 Degrees' "The Hardest Thing".


It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do 
To look you in the eye 
And tell you I don't love you 
It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to lie 
To show no emotion when you start to cry 
I can't let you see what you mean to me 
When my hands are tied 
And my hearts not free 
We're not meant to be 

It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do 
To turn around and walk away 
Pretending I don't love you... 

'The Hardest Thing' by 98 Degrees
Forty-five minutes later, Tom opened his bedroom door, his mind still whirling from what had transpired between himself and B’Elanna. Lisa sat on the bed, brushing her long blonde hair. Spotting him in the doorway, she set the brush down on the bed and patted the spot next to her. “Where were you?” she teased gently. Seeing the look on her fiancé’s face, she stopped smiling. “Tom, what’s wrong?”

 Tom sat down next to her and took her hands, not meeting her gaze. “Lisa...” his voice trailed off. “Lisa, I love you. I honestly love you.”

 “But...” Lisa whispered, her blue eyes wide in apprehension of what he was going to say next.

 “But I don’t know if I can marry you.”

 Lisa stared at him in shock. “What the hell do you mean?” she nearly yelled, leaping to her feet and pulling her hands away from his. “Tom, what the hell do you mean?!” she repeated, enraged. “Tom, I love you. I thought you loved me. We’re supposed to be getting married in less than twenty-four hours, and now you’re telling me that the wedding’s off?” She stopped, not willing to believe what was happening. Her dream had been shattered into a nightmare.

 “I’m so sorry,” Tom whispered, standing up as well.

 Lisa’s gaze fell to her left hand, where her diamond engagement ring rested firmly on her ring finger. Frowning, she jerked it off her hand and simply handed it to Tom. “The wedding’s *off*,” she proclaimed, then grabbed her clothes and stormed out of the bedroom.

Copyright April 1999 by Jane Griffen; e-mail me at