“I’ll carry it, dear.”
Shae tilted up her chin, inhaled as she focused on the exit thirty feet away and started walking, wincing a little as her phone began buzzing from inside her purse. Last week it would have been a caterer or florist. This week it was probably her family, checking up on her.
Well, now she had more bad news for them and she had no idea how to tell them.
* * *
JORDAN BRYAN DIDN’T know how much longer he could drive without finding a place to pull over and sleep. His travel partner had been drifting in and out for most of the day, but once it got dark, the poodle had conked out for good.
The poodle.
Go figure.
Once he’d made his mind up to go, Jordan had tried to slip away while the dog was on his neighborhood rounds, but Clyde had come scampering around the Arlington apartment complex at the last minute, skidding to a stop at the curb next to the car, curly head cocked to one side as if to say, Really, man? After all this you’re running out on me?
Yeah, he was. He was running out on everything and nothing. He was running and he couldn’t even say why, except that every day he stayed where he was, doing the mindless job he’d been given, added to his raging sense of unrest.
The dog had then taken it upon himself to trot around the car to the driver’s-side door and jump up, his toenails scratching the metal. Jordan had tried to harden himself, just as he’d hardened himself that morning when he’d abruptly told his supervisor he was leaving his mercy job and wouldn’t be back, but at the last minute he’d opened the door. The homeless poodle had jumped in, scurried across Jordan’s lap and settled himself in the passenger seat as if there’d never been any question of whether or not he’d be going.
Jordan only hoped that the dog knew what he was getting into traveling cross-country in a tiny used Subaru with no air conditioning. He snorted now at the thought and wiped a hand over his tired face, his fingers grazing the numb ridges of the burn scars near his ear before he reached over to turn the volume of the radio up. Hell, he didn’t know what he was getting into—or going back to.
He just hoped Miranda hadn’t screwed him over.
* * *
THE BLACK BUTTE PORTER that Reed had left behind wasn’t working. Shae set the glass on the table and reached for the tequila, pouring a healthy shot before settling back against the teal-blue sofa cushions and staring out across the room. It looked barren without the boxes of wedding favors, her master-plan board...her dress.
The dress was listed on Craigslist for a price she’d never get but was still half of what she’d paid. The favors and master-plan board were in the trash, along with the tasteful ivory invitations embossed with indigo lettering inviting one and all to celebrate the joining of this man and this woman.
Shae socked back the shot and poured another.
She hadn’t heard from Reed in two days, but even if she did, it would just be a courtesy on his part. Whatever they’d had was well and truly over—mainly because she wouldn’t be with a guy who’d done this to her. A little notice might have been nice, before she and her parents had spent a fortune.
Shae reached for the bottle again. She probably should have had a clue that something wasn’t quite right when he’d refused to move in together to save rent after she’d pushed the wedding date back for a second time so she had time to make everything perfect. He hadn’t given a reason, but had said simply, “Let’s wait.” And since he’d seen things her way in all the other matters pertaining to their wedding, she’d agreed. It was only a matter of two months’ rent, and her apartment had been jammed with wedding stuff, anyway.
Tequila dripped onto Shae’s leg as she poured the next shot. At least he’d told her before the invitations had gone out. She’d organized her stunned bridesmaids into a phone tree, except for her stepsister, Liv, of course, who was on her honeymoon.
Liv, who was happily married.
Was she jealous?
Hell, yes.
Shae brought the glass to her lips, coughing as she inhaled the fumes at just the wrong moment. She wrinkled her nose, scowling as the doorbell rang.
What? What now? No doubt someone had just hit and totaled her new car where it was parked on the street. Fully expecting to see either a neighbor or her stepmother, she peered through the peephole to see Mel standing there, still wearing her work clothes.
Shae unlatched the door and pulled it open. Mel shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, shifting her weight uncomfortably.
Silently Shae stepped back, allowing her to come in. Once the door was closed, Mel turned toward her. “I heard the wedding is off.”
“Yep.”
“Were you going to tell me?”
“I was, but then the bad thing happened and I figured Wallace would pass word along,” Shae said, going to sit on the sofa. Mel stayed where she was.
“He did,” she agreed. She nodded at the bottle with the full shot glass sitting next to it on the coffee table. “I see you’re coping.”
“Just numbing the pain for a while. Getting fired came as kind of a shock.”
“Really.”
Since Shae had thought this to be a sympathy visit, Mel’s flat tone surprised her. “Did you know?” she asked candidly.
“That Wallace was letting you go? No. But I understand why it happened.”
Shae studied Mel for a moment, more than a little surprised at the answer. They’d known each other forever, and even though they were polar opposites in many ways, their friendship had remained strong since the first grade. There’d been times when they’d gone their own ways, lived their own lives without a lot of contact, but Shae knew she could count on Mel. Or she had. “Why can you understand it?” Shae asked.
“Because you were living and breathing that wedding. And when Montana Skies signed on for the photo essay, you spent the majority of your time in another world that had nothing to do with the job. Even when you were there, you weren’t there.”
“I did my job,” Shae protested.
“You went through the motions. Gerald and Risa were forever clearing up loose threads you left.”
“They’re my assistants.” And if there was one thing Shae was good at, it was delegating.
“You weren’t doing your part.”
“Well,” Shae said briskly as she got back to her feet. “Thank you so much for stopping by. I feel better now.”
“I’m not here to bury the knife deeper,” Mel said bluntly.
Shae wrinkled her forehead. “Then why does it feel so much like that’s exactly what’s happening?”
Mel sighed. “Pretending you were fired for a bogus reason might make you feel better tonight, but it won’t help in the long run.” She nodded at the bottle. “Are you willing to share, or do you need the whole thing?”
“I’ll let you have a little,” Shae said, getting to her feet and walking into the kitchen. With altitude the tequila had more of an effect. She turned around.
“Maybe you’d better have that shot,” she said pointing at the glass she’d left on the coffee table. Getting drunk out of her mind sounded good in theory, but was the aftermath worth it? Wasn’t she dealing with enough aftermath as it was? “If you’re not afraid of loser germs.”
Mel smirked at her as she reached for the shot and sipped at it. Mel always had been a sipper, very much like Liv, while