Текст книги "Miss Match"

Автор книги: Laurelin McGee

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

So he was left with this—a note and no Andrea.

The disappointment was so great he knew there had to be another term for it. Heartache, maybe. He felt literally broken. He’d planned to ask her to marry him. Planned to spend his life with her. It was one thing if the night before hadn’t meant as much to her as it had to him, but the way she’d left showed that it meant nothing to her. Absolutely nothing.

Whether she knew about his plans to propose or not, she’d left him. Either way, thank God she’d quit before he proposed. She likely would have laughed in his face. At least he’d come out of this with his dignity somewhat intact, even if it was at the cost of his heart.

His heart! For heaven’s sake, he’d barely registered he owned one before Andrea had shown up out of nowhere. She’d found it, infiltrated it, become one with it, and then shattered it from the inside out.

So what did he do now? He was practically paralyzed. Blake Donovan never didn’t know what to do. Or say. But right now—he was an ice statue, not just frozen, but unable to achieve motion. All he could hope for was a fast melt, not to prolong the suffering.

The phone beeped reminding him that he had a call on hold. Oh, right. Jane. If he’d stuck to his original plan and never broken the rules with his hired help, then he’d probably be proposing to Jane about now. He’d have the life he always intended. Now he had nothing.

Though he did still have the “ideal” woman waiting on the phone for him. Maybe he shouldn’t break up with Jane. If Drea didn’t want him, he might as well go to plan B. Or plan A, rather, since Jane Osborne—or someone like her—had been what he’d originally intended to end up with. He could keep seeing her. It might keep his mind off his horrid despair, anyway. If only the churning in his guts would listen to his mind.

With as much energy as he could muster, he picked up the receiver and depressed the HOLD button. “Sorry. I had a business situation come up.” True enough. Ish. True-enough-ish. That was a thing, right? Andy would think it was a thing. “I’m back now.”

“Not a problem. So five thirty, then?”

Jane’s enthusiasm should have made him feel guilty. It didn’t, but he grabbed onto it like a lifeline. If she could be happy about being with him, wasn’t that better than the alternative? He couldn’t, couldn’t acknowledge the pit of despair about to swallow him like Luke Skywalker and the Sarlacc. Star Wars. Andy was so far in his head, he couldn’t even create his own analogies!

He didn’t think about it much further. He just acted. “Never mind. My plans just changed. I’ll send a car to pick you up at six thirty. Our reservations at Menton are for seven.”

“I’ll be ready.” Her smile carried through the phone. “Menton—that’s quite a fancy restaurant. Is it an occasion?”

It was an occasion. The worst occasion. The day that Andrea Dawson walked out of his life for good. The last thing he wanted to do was go out with another woman. But he’d been around long enough to learn that tough situations were best met with fortitude. After all, that seemed to be what Jane did.

“Simply dinner.” He was surprised his voice came out so evenly. “The manager is a client, and I was lucky to snag a last-minute table.”

“Exciting. I’ve never been there before.”

Blake stifled a groan as he said his good-byes. It felt like a betrayal—taking another woman on a date with reservations meant for the love of his life. He’d get through it, of course. Still, the way he felt seemed to warrant at least an afternoon of moping. He gathered his things and left the office. Hopefully when he came back tomorrow he’d be able to forget all the memories he and Drea had created there. Replacing a wingback was one thing—it would be awfully expensive if he had to remodel the whole damn place.

*   *   *

“—or Chicken Marsala.”

Blake blinked and looked from the television to his housekeeper. She was standing at the side of the couch, a questioning furrow in her brow. How long had she been there?

He paused Downton Abbey—he’d barely been paying attention to it anyway. “What was that you were saying, Ellen?”

She smiled patiently. “I asked what you wanted me to do for your dinner tonight. I could grill some steaks or make my Chicken Marsala.”

It was his turn to be puzzled. “Those choices sound awfully fancy for just one. Besides, I’m going out tonight.” More and more he regretted his decision to take Jane to Menton. Too late to back out now, though. Maybe he could say he got sick. He certainly felt sick.

He’d taken some Pepto. An hour later, he was chewing the ginger candies Ellen swore by. It turned out there wasn’t really anything you could take for “heartsick.” Despite his best Google searches.

“Tomorrow then,” Ellen persisted. “What should the menu be for then?”

“Leftovers will be fine.” On second thought, eating leftovers from the meal he’d shared with Andrea sounded dismal. “Or I’ll heat a frozen lasagna.”

“So you’ll be having no dinner guests tomorrow?” Her expression was so hopeful that Blake had to wonder if she was losing it.

“Do I ever?”

“After yesterday, I thought…”

He’d forgotten that Ellen had known Andrea had visited. Actually, he had spent all afternoon trying to forget everything about the night before, though the task had turned out to be near impossible. Memories sat just under his every thought. Flashes would permeate his conscience at the most inopportune moments. Like now when he was listening to his elderly housekeeper, it probably wasn’t appropriate to be picturing that thing Drea could do with her tongue.

He blinked his eyes, erasing the image from his mind and returning his focus to Ellen, who was still talking. He hoped he hadn’t missed much.

“… you’ve been going out a lot lately. All those dates at restaurants, what a waste of money. I thought perhaps you might invite Drea here again sometime. I’m happy to prepare a home-cooked meal. Simply tell me the date and I’ll take care of it all.”

“Invite Drea…?” He furrowed his brow as he attempted to piece together the meaning in Ellen’s statement. “No, no. I haven’t been going out with Drea. It’s Jane I’ve been seeing.” Plain Jane. He ignored the ache of how much he wished it were Drea he’d been seeing instead. Wished it were Drea he was seeing tonight.

Ellen frowned. “Oh. I thought that … Drea just seemed … well, I suppose it’s none of my business.”

“I suppose it’s not.” Perhaps he delivered that a little too harshly, but really—discussing his love life with his housekeeper? Not a chance.

Except, if she had something worthwhile to say …

“I’ll plan on buying you some microwave meals tomorrow, then.” She started to leave. Microwave meals? Not her frozen concoctions? She must be pissed.

“Ellen, wait a minute.” He paused to let her turn her attention back to him. “If it were your business, what would you say?”

She gave an innocent shrug. “I don’t know. I hadn’t given it much thought.”

Blake peered skeptically at his housekeeper. She always had an opinion. Solicited or not. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Well.” Her eyes looked upward as she pretended to consider. “I guess I’d ask you if you wish that Andrea would join you again for dinner.”

Yes, he wished it. More than anything. “It doesn’t matter what I wish, so the question’s irrelevant.”

She scowled at him. “Now, that hardly seems fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. I learned that one young.”

“Tough talk is all that is. And you are much tougher than I, if you actually believe that drivel.” Ellen perched on the arm of the couch and folded her hands in her lap. “But if speaking about Andrea is off the table, then I’d ask you about this Jane woman—do you wish that she would join you for dinner?”

Now Blake scowled. “I’m having dinner with her tonight, aren’t I?”

“I mean, tomorrow. Here for dinner.”

What was his housekeeper getting at? “If I’d wanted her here, I’d have invited her.”

“I see.” Ellen pursed her lips. “Then you won’t be going out with Jane again?”

“I didn’t say that.” He hadn’t quite decided about Jane, but he had a feeling he’d see her again. Not at his home, but out. Though he wasn’t obligated to Ellen, it seemed she was waiting for an explanation. “I simply—don’t want her with me here. My house is my space. No obligations. My time is my time.”

“But if you had the choice, you’d spend your free time with Drea?” Ellen didn’t wait for him to respond. “You don’t have to answer. I think I understand the situation now.”

“That makes one of us.”

“What still confuses me, though, is this Jane woman. If you don’t want to spend time with her, then why are you insisting you are dating her?”

It was a valid question, one that Blake pondered every other minute. He sighed. “She’s fond of me, I believe.”

“Fond of you? That’s certainly a nice thing.” Ellen raised a brow. “But how do you feel about her?”

“She’s excellent dating material. Pleasant. Pretty. She’d make a fine wife.” He’d told himself this so much that afternoon it had practically become his mantra.

Ellen swiveled to face him straight-on. “Maybe she will, but not for you, Blake Donovan. Please don’t tell me that you’re considering proposing to her.”

“It had crossed my mind,” he mumbled.

“Now, that’s just downright mean.” In the many years he’d known Ellen, she’d never spoken so sternly to him. “How is that fair to this Jane? If you don’t love her—and I can tell by the way that you speak of her that you don’t—then you’re nothing but an emotional terrorist. You’re holding her heart hostage. What if she could have the chance to find someone who really cared for her? Someone who adored the ground she walked on? But instead, she’s wasting her time with you, when you’ve clearly already decided she’ll never be that special to you. It’s cruel.”

Rarely did Blake let anyone school him as his housekeeper had just done. His immediate instinct was to defend his behavior. But there was affection in her scolding and her words were surprisingly not unreasonable.

He tried the finger steeple, but found he couldn’t keep his fists from balling. “If I can’t be with Andrea, why shouldn’t I be with someone who is fond of me? What else do I have? You’re leaving me, Andrea left me, I just want someone to be with me!” He was shocked at his own petulant tone and words, but his long-suffering housekeeper actually smiled.

“Just because you can’t be with the person you want to be with doesn’t mean you should take away the opportunity for someone else to find true love.” Ellen’s tone was softer now, reminding him of long years past when his grandmother would correct him on a temper tantrum or similar ill behavior.

The familiarity of her delivery caused him to really listen. To really consider her words.

“I should break up with Jane.” It had been his original plan. Now he didn’t trust any of his plans.

Ellen nodded. “You’re being reactionary. And you shouldn’t date anyone again until you’re over Andrea.”

“She goes by Andy, actually.” Saying her name in any form caused him more heartache than he wanted to admit. Particularly the one he knew was closest to her heart—the heart he’d thought so earnestly belonged to him. “And I’m not sure that I’ll ever be over her.”

“Then you’ll be spending the rest of your life single.” She stood and brushed down the skirt of her apron. “Either that or you could try to win the girl.”

He laughed sharply. “Funny thing is that I thought I had won the girl. Turned out I was wrong.”

There was no future for him with Andy, but Ellen was right about Jane. He’d thought that he was a catch because he had money and stability. But what about her? Didn’t she deserve honesty? Fuck, Andrea had warned him about this. If he couldn’t have her, he could accept living the rest of his life in a loveless relationship, but Jane hadn’t been given that option. He had to rethink his decision to continue seeing her.

“I’ll call things off with Jane.” He could still break up with her tonight at Menton. A breakup over a nice candlelit dinner? It was probably a more gentlemanly send-off. He winced at the idea that Andrea would likely be proud. You didn’t order for her, did you? Her voice was already in his head, telling him how to proceed.

“I think you’ve made the right decision.” Ellen patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “And will you give it a go with Andrea? I mean, Andy?”

His eyes flew to Ellen’s. “I didn’t say that.” He didn’t have it in him to explain that Andy had left him. She was gone from his life entirely. There was nothing to give a go.

Ellen tsked. “Your generation gives up so easily. Dinner for one tomorrow then?”

After tonight, every night for the rest of my life. I’m done. “Dinner for one.”

Chapter Twenty

Menton’s service was as to be expected—perfect, unobtrusive, and worth the price. The Chef’s Tasting Course option took most of the decisions out of the ordering process. Even the wine was paired for them. If Blake were in a different state of mind, it would have been a very lovely evening. More than once during the evening’s progression he wondered if he should have taken Jane to a less fancy location. If they’d gone to Uni, they’d have finished an hour ago, and he’d already be home with an old Dashiell Hammett novel. Wallowing. He wanted to wallow.

Notes for his next relationship-ending date, he thought. Though there wouldn’t be any of those in his future if he stuck to his new plan of permanent solitude.

Blake waited until Jane had pushed away her Foie Gras de Canard before he prepared to deliver his news. His announcement would likely spoil the rest of dinner, and the meal was one price for all seven courses, so he wanted to get the most out of his dollar. Really, he’d meant to hold off until dessert had been served, but by the time he’d finished his own main course, he was too anxious to get the evening over with.

Just as he was about to speak, though, the waiter arrived.

“The check please,” Blake said before the man could persuade them to indulge in another course. “We’ll take dessert with us.”

“You’d like me to box up the crème brûlée?” The waiter sounded horrified.

“I would,” Blake answered with a straight face, but inwardly he grimaced at the thought of crème brûlée to go. What a faux pas.

The server groaned in disgust. “Yes, sir.” And went on his way.

The moment they were alone again, Blake dove in. “Jane, I have something I need to say.” He paused for her attention. Then, realizing she might take his statement as a more celebratory preamble, he rushed through the rest of his speech. “I’ve led you on. While I at one time believed that you had everything that I wanted in a woman, I’ve known for quite some time now that I can never have feelings for you. At the risk of sounding cliché, it’s truly me, not you.”

Jane took a sip of her wine, her expression showing no turmoil, no devastation, no sign of impending tears.

He must not have been clear.

“Perhaps I should say this another way—I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” That was too passive. “We shouldn’t see each other anymore. Jane, I’m breaking up with you.”

Again, no response.

This was becoming frustrating. He tried to hide the irritation as he prodded her for acknowledgment. “You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

She set her glass down before meeting his eyes. “I understand you perfectly, Blake.”

Her eyes, he noted, were still perfectly clear. Maybe she wasn’t going to be upset after all. That was somewhat disappointing to his ego though much more convenient since they were in public. A woman in tears on a date always put her companion in poor light.

Jane continued with stoicism. “You should know that I’m not surprised. I’m well aware that we lack the chemistry that is usually expected from a couple that is courting. I also don’t have feelings for you. However, I don’t think that’s any reason we should call it quits. In fact, now that we’ve both admitted the truth of our emotions, or lack thereof, we can potentially take our relationship to the next level.”

Blake’s brow fell into confusion. “I’m not sure I’m following you.” That was embarrassing. After all he’d done to prepare himself for this breakup he was the one that had been caught off guard.

Jane dabbed at her mouth with her linen napkin then folded it precisely into quarters before returning it to her lap. He liked that about her—her attention to minute detail. She really was very much his ideal woman. Or what he’d once thought was his ideal woman. Drea had chosen well for his would-be wife. The level of knowledge she had about him would be violating if it weren’t so comforting. He shut that thought down before his brain could wrap around the contrast.

Jane leaned forward in her seat. “I’m saying, Blake, that I don’t believe love is a requirement in marriage. I’d even go so far as to say that love should not be included at all. It can be a distraction in a successful union.”

“That’s ridiculous. Love is practically synonymous with marriage.” Blake heard himself saying the words, wondering where in the hell they’d come from. He’d never thought much about love in romantic terms. He’d simply always assumed that once he found the right woman, it would follow. Yet another instance where he’d been wrong.

Jane placed laced her fingers together, careful to keep her elbows off the table. “Think of matrimony as a business contract—isn’t it much easier to work with someone that you don’t have strong feelings for? Sure, you want to get along—and you and I get along well enough—but anything deeper than that, your dealings become complicated and all sense of logic and judgment flies out the window.”

Blake couldn’t help nodding. He’d learned that lesson in the early days of his career. Going into business with friends never worked out well. Someone always got emotional, someone always lost money …

Oh.

He understood what Jane was trying to illustrate. Dear God, those had been his thoughts on marriage early on as well. Had been for as long as he’d considered the possibility. Jane was speaking the words he’d have written in a diary, if he’d been self-indulgent enough to keep one. When had he changed his mind?

When he’d met Andrea Dawson, that’s when.

But she wasn’t in his life anymore, so she shouldn’t be a factor in his decision-making.

And what decision was he making, anyway? He could feel his blood pressure rising, even as his date’s cheeks remained as pale as he’d ever seen them. “What are you talking about exactly, Jane?”

“I’m simply suggesting a marriage of convenience.”

He would have looked for the hidden cameras from a reality prank show had Jane’s demeanor not been completely sincere.

“Look, I know what you want in a wife. Your expectations were made clear by your assistant. By Andy.”

Blake wondered if Jane could tell that his heart skipped a beat at the mention of Andy’s name.

“My expectations are similar.” The way she continued on, it seemed she was oblivious. “I’d like to have a home, a good income, one child. Two, perhaps. Security is important to me, both financially and emotionally. And the ability to spend time on the things I want to pursue. I’d like to work on a charity for Alzheimer’s, for example. Head the parents’ board at my children’s school. Be a model wife.”

He listened intently. Her dream future sounded very familiar. “That sounds like a pleasant life. And you want all of this without love?”

“I think the only way to assure this type of security is without love. Love interferes. It blinds you. It allows you to settle. I no longer expect much from love.” Her expression briefly clouded. “Plenty of cultures rely on arranged marriages to build a mutual respect over time, thus creating a lasting relationship that ‘love’ never could.” Her face hardened again.

Was that what he’d been willing to do with Andrea? To settle? To throw a log on a fire that was already on its way out? The idea left a bad taste in Blake’s mouth, but it also resonated somewhere in an old part of his soul. This was what he’d always believed. Jane was making sense. Squash that annoying little voice inside saying his only love was gone.

He rubbed a finger along the crook of his chin. “You mentioned children. Did you want to adopt?” It was crazy that he was even asking. Where on earth did he expect this conversation to go?

“I’d prefer to have my babies the normal way. Which means that, yes, we’d have to be sexually active. With each other.” Her expression remained serious. “I don’t see that as a problem, though, do you? You’re an attractive man. I find you physically appealing.”

“Well, thank you.” He’d never been complimented in such a sterile manner. He’d never been less turned on by the proposition of sex.

She shrugged. “It’s fact. I’d guess you feel the same about me. I passed your initial screening, after all. Plus you’ve seen me for several dates. Obviously you must find something pleasing about my appearance.”

Blake opened his mouth, but hesitated to respond. He was simultaneously impressed and appalled by Jane’s detached approach to the conversation, and he wasn’t quite sure what he should say. Was she that damaged? How far had he come on his own emotional journey to recognize that? He chose, in the end, to match her tone. “You are a beautiful woman. I’m sure very few men would disagree.”

She smiled slightly. It was creepy, almost, the way it never reached her eyes. “Then the only thing we haven’t explored is our sexual compatibility.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to seduce me?” He’d been unconventionally hit on before, but this took the cake by far. It was actually weird as hell. It made the Andy hate-fuck look downright romantic.

“I’m trying to secure the open-ended details in our potential arrangement.”

“You’re proposing that we sleep with each other.” Or not sleep with each other, as he would typically stipulate.

She sighed. “I’m proposing that we sleep with each other in order to make sure that we actually are a suitable couple. Because as far as I can see, everything else about us is ideal in every way.”

Blake worked his jaw as he worked the idea in his head. “I’m not immediately opposed.” Something in his chest itched, but he ignored it. Jane’s proposition was exactly the arrangement he’d set out to find. It was … perfect, actually. He didn’t have to dine alone. He’d have suitable arm candy at his work functions. Someone to pose with for a portrait above his mantel.

And even if he spent the rest of his days secretly pining for Andrea, he would not be doing an injustice to his wife. Jane didn’t want more. Which was superb since he couldn’t give more to anyone ever again.

It was the most practical, logical plan that had ever been presented to him. He couldn’t think of one good reason not to pursue it.

As he moved closer to accepting Jane’s proposition, the itching in his chest increased until it was more of an ache. Heartburn, he decided. The meal had been rich, and he’d rushed it in anticipation for his talk with Jane. He had some calcium chews in the car he was certain would remedy the problem.

He casually rubbed at his breastbone. “You do have me intrigued. Strangely. If we pursue this, what would you suggest happens next? Do we continue to date as we have? Or do we make an appointment for the justice of the peace?” Surely a huge wedding wouldn’t be expected if theirs was a marriage of convenience.

“No ceremony yet. We still have the last compatibility test to pass.” She said it so matter-of-factly, it took Blake a moment to remember what the compatibility test was.

“Oh, right. The seduction.” He felt his face heat. “Should we just…” The discussion was a bit awkward considering that he wasn’t really feeling it. He was sure he could if he tried. In the proper environment. Not here with onlookers and after a bottle of wine. No, the setting simply wasn’t conducive to sexual arousal.

Jane pursed her lips. “Why don’t we settle up here and continue this discussion elsewhere. At my place, perhaps?”

That suggestion should have made Blake feel better, but now his wrong-environment excuse would be put to the test. It made him nervous—he’d never failed a woman in that department, and he wasn’t looking for tonight to be a first. Maybe he should call it a night.

On the other hand, this was his chance, wasn’t it? His last shot at the picture-perfect home life he’d imagined for himself for so long. If not Andy—no, he meant if not Jane, then who? Hire another matchmaker? Try to find another woman who didn’t mind a loveless marriage?

No. This was a once-or-never deal. And even though he had no enthusiasm to pursue it, he felt somehow obligated to do so anyway. This was what he’d signed up for.

After the bill was settled, they walked to the valet stand in silence. Blake handed over his ticket, and Jane linked her arm through his as they waited for his car to arrive. He forced himself not to tense at her touch, wondering if it would be harder to relax when it was skin on skin instead of her bare arm through his jacket. He would fail the compatibility test if he stiffened at this simple junction.

What was wrong with him, anyway? He should be enjoying this. He was about to get it on with a beautiful woman—why was he so … turned off? Surely he was too young to need the little blue pill. It had to be stress. Yes, that was it. Stress was also playing at his heartburn. All he needed to do was get himself in the B-Zone and he’d be fine.

Deep breaths. Focus.

“It’s been a nice evening, Blake.” Jane’s voice drifted into the B-Zone, which immediately kicked Blake out of it. “After the last few dates, especially.”

Another deep breath.

Except his interest was piqued. “What do you mean after the last few dates?”

She shrugged. “The other nights have been pleasant as well—don’t get me wrong. Tonight, though, everything went off without a hitch—for once. No lost reservations, no missing wallets, no wrong movie times. Though the valet is taking a while to get your car, so maybe I spoke too soon.” She laughed. “I’m only kidding. I’m sure they haven’t misplaced your car. And that’s my point. Tonight there has been none of that. It’s been nice. I’m … happy … about where we’re headed.”

Blake nodded absentmindedly. Happy. He hadn’t put much thought to the series of misfortunes that had marred their previous evenings. It was almost humorous how much had gone wrong for them. Repeatedly. Another couple may have taken their bad luck as a sign that they shouldn’t be together, would have assumed that the gods were out to sabotage them.

Or a person.

Something nagged at the back of his mind, a swirling whisper of an idea that began to take shape into a concrete notion. All of his other dates with Jane … the common thread … the element that had been missing in tonight’s dinner plans …

Andrea.

No. She couldn’t have. She wouldn’t.

But he knew Andy, knew that she could be passionate and irrational. Knew she had a hot temper and spontaneous nature. She’d burned Max Ellis’s employee files, and nearly his entire office, on a whim. She did have it in her to be subversive. And shitty. And … romantic.

Because, whatever motive would she have to wreck his courtship with Jane when Andrea had been hired to be his matchmaker? It made no sense.

Unless …

He put the pieces together and they fit perfectly, but was that because he wanted it to go that way? If there was only the slightest chance that he might be right, he had to pursue it.

With an excitement he hadn’t felt all evening, Blake pulled away from Jane and signaled the doorman. “Excuse me; can you hail a cab please?”

“Blake, your car’s coming now,” Jane protested, pointing to the valet who was pulling in.

“A cab, please,” he repeated. Then he turned to address his date. “The cab is for you.”

Jane raised her brows, but had the grace not to make a scene.

Blake was eager to be on his way, but he took a moment to do this right, speaking with an honesty he hadn’t offered to anyone in a long time—anyone except Andrea, that was. “Thank you for your offer, Jane. At one point in time it would have been tempting. More than tempting. I agree with you wholeheartedly that love makes any contract risky and tumultuous. It’s also the best damn feeling in the world. Not just being loved, but being in love. It’s chaotic, yes, and unpredictable. And I might get my heart broken”—oh, he hoped not—“but I’d rather have the ups and the downs than security. I’d rather take the chance at being miserable and alone than say I didn’t do everything in my power to nab the love of my life. So I’m sorry, but I have to end this relationship.”

That was all the effort he could devote to his second attempt at a breakup. He didn’t even wait to see Jane’s response. Instead, he tucked a fifty in her palm and said, “This is for your fare. And maybe a value meal, because the salad you ordered at dinner could not have filled you up. You deserve happiness, even if you aren’t asking for it. Especially if so.”

Then he tipped the valet, climbed into his car, and headed to the woman he should have been with all along. If she thought he was too headstrong, then too bad. He was taking his chances. Somehow he managed to obey the speed limit, but only just.

*   *   *

Andy woke with a start, her mouth dry and her face sticky. She didn’t remember falling asleep, yet she must have because here she was waking up on the couch. The light shining through the front windows was dim. Was it evening light or morning light? She sat up and tried to get her bearings.

“How are you feeling?” Lacy asked quietly.

Andy turned to find her sister sitting on the armchair, lacing up the Doc Martens she liked to wear when she went out. It must be night, then. Lacy had planned to meet up with Darrin and some other musicians at one of their favorite karaoke bars.

“I have a headache.” Andy was surprised how bad it was, actually. They’d only had one bottle before she’d passed out that afternoon, and Lacy had drunk half of it. Or maybe most of it had been consumed by Andy. Honestly, it was probably the heavy crying that had hurt her head the most.

That and the heartache. Arg, the heartache. How was anyone supposed to know how awful it felt? She finally felt an ounce of Lacy’s grief, knowing the man she loved was gone forever. Her pity had thrown her over the edge.