

# Intoxicated

## By Alicia Renee Kline

## Copyright 2013 Alicia Renee Kline

## Smashwords Edition

### This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Moving in slow motion

But faster than the speed of sound

I wonder if you'll still notice me

When I am not around

#### Prologue

"So you are really going ahead with the roommate thing?" Matthew's voice crackled over the telephone.

Blake wasn't sure if her brother's words were garbled due to her faulty cell reception or if they were laced with emotion. She had, of course, announced with a flourish approximately six months ago that it had been the appropriate time in her life to purchase her own place. Up until then, they had been roommates themselves. But her wildly independent streak as well as a buyer's market had persuaded her to take the leap into homeownership. That and the fact that Matthew was still best friends with her ex.

She just never expected to feel so alone.

"Yes, I guess I am," she replied as she paced her floor.

"And you're sure about this?" he pressed.

Blake sighed. No, not really. But posting a room for rent online and actually having someone sign a lease for it were two entirely different things. So what if someone was coming to look at the place tomorrow morning? If things didn't feel right, she could always lie and say that she had been fielding a lot of calls and that, unfortunately, she had chosen someone else.

"You're not having money problems, are you?" he continued.

"No," she responded quickly. Now that had upset her a little bit.

"Just be careful." Matthew warned.

Despite herself, Blake chuckled. If anyone should be giving that advice, it should be the other way around. Matthew's indiscretions had been the whole reason that they themselves had been roommates. Although it had been a terrible, uncomfortable time in both their lives, it had been the beginning of their beautiful friendship. There was no one else that she trusted as wholly and completely as her brother. Their past had forced them to lean on each other in a way she never would have imagined when she was younger, and they had ended up on the other side as better people for it.

Matthew either chose to ignore the giggle or he found the irony in the situation. There was silence on the other end of the line until Blake whispered her response.

"Always am."

#### Chapter One

"Don't worry, Lauren," Gracie said, "he'll come around."

I twirled my straw in my Coke and stared blankly as the ice cubes hit the sides of my glass. I hoped her words were true. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gracie rise from the booth. My gaze followed her as she stood. Apparently, the pep talk was over.

"And for goodness sakes, enjoy your party."

Or not.

She latched on to my shoulder as she brushed past, partly in support of my situation, mostly in support of her own body weight. She teetered unsteadily on her platform boots and let out what could be best described as an intoxicated giggle. I watched as she made her way to the restroom toward the back of the restaurant, stifling a laugh of my own as she attempted to open the ladies' room door by pushing rather than pulling.

Ah, yes, this was my party.

I glanced around at the large booth our group occupied. The familiar faces of coworkers surrounded me. There had been a good turnout; by my count, twenty people had at least stopped in to say goodbye. Ten of those twenty still remained, even now, two hours after the official meeting time.

Invariably when someone decided to leave the bank, another employee would take it upon themselves to organize a get-together, usually held at the Mexican restaurant a mile down the road from our branch. For some, it was a good excuse to gorge on chips, salsa and margaritas. For others, it was truly an opportunity to celebrate the guest of honor's new job or retirement and to say farewell. Whatever the case that brought all these people here, to think they were gathered because of me was surreal.

Neither one of the usual scenarios pertained to me. At twenty-six, I wasn't anywhere close to retirement, at least not without a winning lottery ticket in hand. And I wasn't quitting. I had garnered a promotion.

I started at the bank right out of college. Armed with my shiny new accounting degree, I had landed a position at the local branch underwriting mortgage loans. My attention to detail – some would call it anal-retentiveness – got me noticed by our corporate office. After five years of employment there, I had been offered the job.

Director of Underwriting, Mortgage Lending.

The title alone had a nice ring to it. The thought of actually having a staff at my beck and call was enticing. The increase in salary was definitely attractive. The location, not so much. Corporate was about two hours north of here, and I would have to relocate. That was really the only thing that had given me pause.

Being considerate of the circumstances, my current boss had instructed me to take a couple days to think it over, pray about it, do whatever I needed to do. In my heart of hearts, I had known what my answer would be, but I was still relieved that I had a moment to mull things over. That night, I had made two phone calls.

My father had been ecstatic.

Eric, well, things had not gone so swimmingly with him.

Gracie staggered back to the table. She fell onto the seat of the booth, the cushion protesting with a squeak beneath her. This was apparently the funniest thing that had ever happened to her. Her convulsive laughter brought all other conversation at the table to a halt.

"Maybe time for someone to go home?" Mary from Consumer Loans suggested.

"I'm on it." I set down my Coke and went to grab my purse. "Come on, Gracie, let's get you to bed."

"Oh, Lauren," Stacy, the receptionist, protested, "it's not fair that you have to leave your own party early. One of us can drive her home."

"But it's tradition," Mary chimed in, "Gracie always drinks too much, and Lauren is her designated driver."

"Oh, no," Stacy snorted, "did they include that in the job description for your replacement?"

Gracie still had enough sobriety left in her to shoot both Mary and Stacy a dirty look. "Shut up."

I stood to go and Gracie followed suit. She was pretty wobbly. She leaned against the wall as I said my goodbyes, thanking each person for coming and accepting their well wishes. As I made the rounds, my eyes welled up with tears.

This was really happening. Come Monday morning, the rest of the people at this table would go back to work like they always did. My desk would be sitting empty. No manila file folders stacked up on the desktop, their contents spilling over onto my keyboard.

Pushing the melodramatic to the far recesses of my brain, I took Gracie's arm and escorted her out of the restaurant. Considering that she towered over me, especially in those shoes, this was no small feat.

The cool evening air greeted us as we spilled out onto the sidewalk. We continued across the parking lot to my awaiting car. I unlocked Gracie's door first and helped her inside. As I rounded the car and unlocked my own door, I realized that it was as if we were on some sort of a strange date. I was being rather chivalrous.

"I'm not tired, Lauren," Gracie whined as I assumed the driver's seat. "I don't want to go to bed yet. I want to help you with your problems."

"Oh, Gracie," I laughed, "I might be beyond help at this point."

We drove in an easy silence back to her apartment. I pulled my car into the carport beside her sedan and shut off the ignition. She made no move to get out of my car. Upon closer inspection, I realized that her eyes were closed.

"Gracie?"

She jumped. "I'm awake, I promise. You want to come up?"

I checked my cell phone before answering. It was only nine. "Sure, why not?"

The short nap had done Gracie wonders. That coupled with a fresh pot of coffee might actually transform her into a worthy confidant. With renewed energy, she exited the car. I followed behind her, realizing as I threw my purse over my shoulder that my cell phone remained in the center console. Briefly, I considered running back to get it, but decided not to. No one would be calling me at this hour. I had just spoken with my dad prior to the party, I was with my best friend right now and Eric was on some sort of random business trip in some location I was sure he had mentioned at some point during chewing me out.

Gracie kicked off her boots as soon as she made it through the threshold. She set her housekeys on the table beside the door with a loud clunk, then landed on the couch with a flourish. I continued on to the kitchen to make said coffee. Moving around the small space as if it was my own, I set to work opening cabinets and grabbing mugs.

As the coffee brewed, I leaned over the breakfast bar. From here, I could view the entire apartment. Gracie's bedroom was at the end of the hall, right next to the bathroom. The place itself was bland, walls covered in typical renter's off white. Even though the whole of the place was no more than five or six hundred square feet, it seemed cavernous in comparison with my studio apartment. What made it feel like home were the small finishing touches Gracie had managed to add with her meager bank teller's wage.

One of those finishing touches, a throw pillow in the shape of a question mark, whizzed past my head.

"Penny for your thoughts."

I poured the now finished coffee into the mugs and carried them over to the sofa, where I sat down next to her. She took the mug that I offered, closing her eyes as she tasted the first sip.

I sighed, not sure where to begin.

"He's probably just upset because I am leaving town."

For the majority of our relationship Eric and I had been, in one way or another, apart. We began dating when we were both sixteen. When it had been time to go to college, we had settled on different universities. This led to lots of long distance phone calls, internet chatting and romantic reunions during breaks. After graduation, instead of finally being in the same place at the same time, he had gotten scooped up by a life insurance carrier to be their sales rep. Even though he was stationed out of their Indianapolis office, the majority of the time he wasn't anywhere nearby.

It had been a complete shock when he expressed his distaste at my promotion.

"That's bull and you know it." Gracie set down her coffee cup on the table in front of us. She tucked an errant strand of black hair behind her ear and stared at me. "He feels threatened."

Threatened? Maybe, just maybe, he was.

#### Chapter Two

There were four missed calls and three voice mails on my cell when I returned to the car after midnight. I didn't need to guess who they were from. I closed my eyes momentarily, attempting to give myself the strength to deal with him. Knowing resistance was futile, I pressed the speed dial button before listening to any of the messages.

"You didn't answer your phone," Eric said in lieu of a greeting.

"I'm sorry."

The apology slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. More of a trained response, learned from ten years' experience. Honestly, I wasn't sorry.

"Where are you?" he asked, his voice softening.

"Just leaving Gracie's place. What hotel are you at?"

"It's a small place. Relatively local. You might say the atmosphere leaves a little to be desired. Lots of moving boxes at the moment."

"You're at my place?"

My anger melted away at the thought of him lounged on my couch, his feet propped on the coffee table. He rarely came to my place. Granted, it was tiny and not in the best neighborhood, but it was my home. He must have been overcome with guilt to make the trek from his downtown high rise.

"Maybe."

"I'll be home in fifteen."

"See you then."

I pressed the "end" key and tossed the phone over to the passenger seat. Traffic was light for a Friday night, and I made good time back to my complex. Sure enough, Eric's BMW was parked in my guest spot. His car seemed to smirk at my very used Honda Accord.

The two certainly didn't belong together.

Eric had been campaigning for quite some time for me to get something new. However, I liked not being a slave to a car payment as much as I enjoyed not being strapped for cash due to high rent. So that explained why I was here, driving what I did. Who cared about appearances? My bank account was the one laughing.

Humming, I smiled to myself as I bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I could hardly contain myself. Eric was here, in the flesh. I tried to remember the last time we had been in the same time zone. Two weeks?

My front door was unlocked. Eric's six foot two inch frame was folded over the tiny loveseat like an adult sitting on a toddler's chair. He was still dressed for work, his suit jacket slung over the back of the couch. He grabbed the remote and turned off my small television set as I entered.

"Hey," I greeted.

He stood, and we met midway. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace. What was left of my resolve melted into a puddle at his feet.

"I missed you," I whispered.

He pressed his finger against my lips to silence me and led me to the couch. As we sunk to the cushion, he replaced his finger with his own lips. Once the hello kiss had been completed, he leaned back against the sofa, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

"I missed you too."

"How long have you been here?" I was hesitant to ask, but curiosity won out.

He drew in a deep breath prior to answering. "A couple hours."

Damn. That meant that while I was pouring my heart out to Gracie about how insensitive he was, he was sitting in my empty apartment waiting for me. No wonder he had called so many times. I scolded myself, ashamed that I could be so irresponsible.

"I'm sorry," I said again. This time I meant it. "I had no idea that you would be home tonight."

"My last meeting today got cancelled. I took an earlier flight. I wanted to surprise you when you got home from your party. I didn't think you would be out so late."

"Well, you accomplished a surprise."

"I thought about crashing your party, but I figured that would be rude."

The truthfulness in that statement was questionable. I doubted the thought had crossed his mind.

"You could have come. I'm sure everyone would have been happy to see you."

Another false sentiment. After the last couple days, Gracie would have been ready to gouge his eyes out.

I rested my head against him and closed my eyes. It had been a long, emotional day and everything was finally catching up with me. I swallowed a yawn, embarrassed.

"Tired?"

"A little. I have to get up in the morning and go look at a room to rent."

He shifted his weight, causing me to sit up on my own accord. His eyes traveled across the expanse of my apartment, taking in the moving boxes that lined the walls. My place had never been worthy of a spread in a decorating magazine, but now it was uncomfortably void of any personality. With my furnished apartment, there was little preparation that needed to be done in order to move. In fact, everything that I didn't immediately need had already been packed away. When I was ready to go, I really only needed to box up a dresser's worth of clothing, my bathroom stuff and the few dishes that remained in the cabinet.

"You don't have to do this," he breathed.

"Do what?"

"Leave." He took my hands in both of his.

I sighed. "Eric, I kind of do. I've already accepted the job. They are interviewing people to replace me here. I can't just turn around and tell them that I was kidding. That would be like suicide. I would never get another opportunity there again."

"You don't need that job. I told you that I would take care of you."

"I don't need taken care of."

He let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. "You are doing so well on your own. I mean, everyone strives to live in a dump and drive a fifteen year old car. Congratulations."

I jerked my hands away from him, scooting over as far as I could. The gesture only separated us by a couple inches. The look in his eyes had changed, grown cold somehow. I kept my gaze fixed on his, refusing to blink as I formulated a response. My lips parted once, twice, but nothing came out.

Eric took that as his cue to continue. Straight out of his book of tricks, he was using some patented technique to close his sale. "I could give you everything you ever wanted. Every little wish you ever had could come true. And you walk away from me. For what? To prove some point?"

"That I don't need to be in debt up to my eyeballs in order to be happy?"

"I am not."

"Way to sound like a ten-year-old, Eric."

I stood up with a flourish, crossing the apartment in a matter of steps. My frustrated fingers raked through my cropped brunette hair as I paced in front of the window. Eric also rose to his feet, though he lingered by the couch, allowing me my space. I walked back and forth, concentrating on my feet, the threadbare carpet, anywhere but him. I knew I still had the floor. I needed to choose my next words wisely and make the most of it.

"If you are so willing to give me everything that I want, then you will allow me to do this. For years I have stood by and let you make decisions for us. I never argued with your choices. You wanted to go away to school while I stayed here? Fine. You wanted to take a job that makes you travel ninety percent of the time? Fine. Are you sensing a pattern here?"

I paused, letting my words absorb. He offered no rebuttal.

"Why does every major decision you make involve leaving me?"

Now I turned to face him, meeting his stare. Eric winced.

"It's not like that, Lauren."

"It's exactly like that. And the one time I ask you for something, the one time I make a decision for myself, you go off the deep end."

"Lauren," he repeated, moving closer.

I thrust my palm out, effectively cutting him down. "No. If you want to leave me so much, then do it. Get out."

He looked as though I had struck him. We stood for a moment, wordless, stonefaced. He broke the staring contest first, reaching down to grab his pinstriped jacket. He slung the garment over his shoulder, then spun on his heel.

For the first time in recent memory, he did what I instructed.

The door slammed behind him, punctuating his retreat.

#### Chapter Three

Morning came way too early as far as I was concerned. I laid in bed for a couple minutes after the alarm on my cell sounded, snuggling against the comforter. Sunlight poured through the window, casting its warm glow over the apartment. Everything pointed to it being a wonderful day for a drive. A beautiful day to begin a new adventure.

Yawning, I threw back the bedspread and swung my feet to the floor. I padded past the boxes that held most of my kitchenware in my bare feet on my way to the coffeemaker. I still had about an hour to get ready before I needed to leave.

The appointment to look at my potential new home was thankfully not until one in the afternoon. That had been good thinking on my part. Of course, when I had answered the ad online, I had no way of knowing how the previous night would have ended up unfolding. I had been thinking more logically at that moment. Never a real early riser on the weekends, I didn't expect myself to spring out of bed for a two hour drive to Fort Wayne, no matter how good a deal the rent seemed. Fortunately, my potential landlord hadn't balked at my suggested time. In fact, she'd also seemed relieved.

As I drank my coffee, I studied the map I had printed out at work. I smoothed the creases out of the paper and committed as much as possible to memory. The route seemed easy enough, if rather boring. I really didn't need direction until I reached my exit. Before today, Fort Wayne hadn't been a destination spot; merely a pass-through on the way to Michigan.

True to form, I had done my due diligence prior to selecting an area of the city in which to look for rentals. I had mapped the location of my new office, looking in a radius of about ten miles either way. This would make for a reasonable commute. I had searched for information on demographics, school systems and property values. My research had led me to select the southwest side of the city. Of course, I checked into apartment complexes, finding several worthy contenders. If today didn't go well, those would be my back-up plan.

I had been inexplicably drawn to an online posting seeking a female to rent a room. Normally I would have passed, preferring something of my own. However, it seemed like an opportunity to find a comrade in a new place. We didn't have to end up best friends, but if we could tolerate each other it would be helpful to have someone local around until I gathered my bearings. I didn't want to depend on maps or GPS for an extended period of time.

With a cup of coffee in me, I was motivated enough to hop in the shower. I let the water trickle over me until it ran cold, closing my eyes. Relaxed, I wrapped myself in my plush bathrobe and set to work picking out my clothes. For whatever reason, I wanted to take time with my appearance today. Probably something to do with the fact that I didn't want to make a bad first impression.

I settled on my favorite pair of jeans and a tight, long sleeved black and white striped cotton shirt. A fairly classic look: stylish, but not trying too hard. Plus, it wouldn't wrinkle too badly during the drive and end up looking like I had slept in it. I slipped on my worn black boots and set to work on hair and makeup.

As I blow-dried my short, choppy cut I smiled to myself. Eric hated my hair. I loved it. All throughout high school I had worn my hair past my shoulders, nearly to my waist. During college I had cut it all off on a whim. When he had first seen it, the disappointment in his eyes was apparent. Since then, it had always been various lengths of short, though it never again reached my shoulders.

Quite contrary to the usual stereotype of an accounting major, I was fascinated by hair and makeup. If I hadn't have been on the fast track to graduating with honors, I might have considered beauty school instead of traditional college. Unfortunately, I had been too concerned with what other people thought to choose my own destiny. Smart people weren't supposed to be creative, right?

So I lived vicariously through experimentation on myself with various beauty products. My arsenal of hair care items and makeup would rival that of a professional. Getting ready in the morning for me was a release. It was pretty fun.

Today, I settled for my favorite look: an understated smoky eye with pale lips. Framed by my dark tousled locks, I was a friendlier version of Goth. A little dark and mysterious, though not unapproachable. My short gray nails completed the look. Perfect.

"Here goes nothing," I whispered to myself as I grabbed my map and purse and headed out the door.

Nervousness entered my stomach as I climbed into the Honda and started it up. I took a deep breath and clutched the steering wheel, trying to will it away. What if this didn't work out? I shook my head, reminding myself of the back-up plan. No matter what happened, I would be okay.

My new job didn't start for another two weeks. I had cashed in vacation time so that I could give myself ample opportunity to search for a new residence and tie up loose ends in Indy. Hopefully, I could get everything accomplished quickly and have some free time as well. I had no indication of when I would be able to sneak away and take time off again, so I wanted to enjoy the freedom while I could.

As expected, the weather was perfect for a drive. I cranked up the CD player and sang along as I cruised down the interstate. My singing left much to be desired, but it kept my mind in the present and off of what I was leaving behind.

Surprisingly, I wasn't upset at the argument that had occurred between myself and Eric hours before. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. He played recklessly with my emotions and typically got what he wanted as a result. I was sick of it.

Gracie would be proud of me and how I had stood up to him. I made a note to give her a call tonight and recap the fight. Though it had been brief, and I was sure we would kiss and make up later, for now it was liberating. I still hadn't heard a peep out of him since he left. He was probably licking his wounds. I vowed not to make the first contact. It would be his turn to come crawling back with an apology. I deserved that much, bare minimum.

Traffic was light and I made excellent time to my exit. I pulled off the interstate, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. Thirty minutes until my appointment. Per the directions on the printout, my destination was about ten minutes away. Just enough time to do a little exploring and still be punctual.

I had choices. Turning right at the light would take me to my new office and the downtown area. Left would lead to my potential rental home and who knew what else. I signaled left, deciding to get a feel for the neighborhood.

The usual fast food places and retail storefronts greeted me immediately past the interstate. Very typical and expected. A drugstore, a grocery store, two gas stations-one on each side of the road, surely for convenience. Nice. As a life-long city girl, this I appreciated.

I continued driving. Once I drove through the next light, the landscape quickly changed from retail to residential. Housing additions surrounded me. As I drove further, the houses on either side appeared to me to get even more spacious and impressive. I wondered what the house that I was going to view looked like. I realized I had no idea.

I had committed the remainder of the driving directions to heart. I quickly found the street that I was to turn on and continued in the path that the mapping program had spelled out. The addition that I turned into was marked by two large brick signs on either side of the entrance, proudly displaying the community name. I let out a sigh of relief as I realized that though the neighborhood was decidedly middle to upper-middle class, I doubted that anyone would look down their nose at my car and tell me I didn't belong. No gates or security guards here. Just lot after lot of homes that practically screamed pride of ownership.

Once I pulled in, I slowed the car to a stop and consulted my map for the exact address. The home wasn't on the main street that led into the addition, and I had to make a series of turns that I would have problems remembering later. I would probably get turned around and hopelessly lost on my way back out of here. I wasn't used to living in the suburbs, that was for sure.

The home was nestled on a cul-de-sac lot toward the back of the addition. It, like all the others, was well-maintained on the outside and impeccably landscaped. It appeared from a quick onceover to be a one and a half story, probably with a loft on the second floor. The siding was a soft yellow, the trim a crisp white. I smiled just looking at it.

I parked the Honda in the driveway, wondering briefly if I would be allowed one of the spots in the two car garage. Nothing like getting ahead of myself. I grabbed my purse, my list of references and my confidence and exited the vehicle. I was about ten minutes early. Hopefully not a problem.

I strode up the winding sidewalk to the front porch, then rang the doorbell. I heard the happy melody of the chimes inside the home announce my presence. Seconds later, the deadbolt lock clicked open. The lock on the actual doorknob followed suit, and the front door opened.

"Damn it," the blonde on the other side of the door whispered under her breath.

"Excuse me?" My voice came out hesitantly. I checked the house number on the front of the home one more time. Maybe I had knocked on the wrong door. "I was here about renting the room listed on the internet. Have I made a mistake?"

The blonde raised her gaze from the tile foyer to my face. Her expression was contorted in an uncomfortable position. It appeared she was possibly squinting. It was hard to tell.

"No, no mistake," she said louder this time, more cheerfully, "you must be Lauren."

I nodded.

"I'm Blake. Nice to meet you."

She extended her hand and I shook it politely. Once my hand returned to my side, I waited expectantly for her to invite me in. Instead, Blake returned to scanning the floor.

"Nice to meet you, too." My inflection made it sound more like a question than a statement.

"I just lost my contact lens," she offered in explanation, "right as I answered the door. It has to be around here somewhere."

"Oh," I responded with relief, "let me help you look for it."

We spent the next couple minutes crouched down, searching for the missing contact. Blake was inside the home; I remained on the porch, craning my neck and attempting to look just over the threshold. Triumphantly, Blake announced its discovery and scooped it into her hand.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized. She rose to her feet and invited me in. "If you'll just excuse me for a moment, I'm as blind as a bat without these things."

"Sure, no problem."

"Make yourself at home. I'll be right back."

Blake disappeared down the hallway, presumably to the bathroom.

I took a moment to gather my bearings. I had been correct about the loft; when I fixed my attention upwards, I saw a comfortable looking sitting area and two doorways, probably entrances to bedrooms. I stood in an expansive great room; to my right was a sectional sofa with recliners on both ends. A large flat screen television hung on the wall above an impressive fireplace. To the left was the hallway where Blake had disappeared – my guess was it led to the master bedroom and a half bath. Beside the stairs to the loft was the doorway to the kitchen. I set my purse and sheet of references on top of the glass coffee table.

Upon first glance, this home was a veritable showpiece. The walls were painted a muted gray. Somehow this worked. Instead of making the interior feel gloomy, it added an air of elegance to the surroundings, and even worked to coordinate with the exterior yellow. Sunlight poured through the windows. As I spun around, I took in the skylights above.

The furnishings were decidedly high end as well. In fact, it looked as though they were almost custom made for the space. I wondered who Blake was, how she could afford all this, and if she wasn't living on handouts from a rich relative, why was she looking for a roommate?

I was drawn to the fireplace. Candid photographs lined the mantle, encased in brushed nickel frames. The first picture was Blake standing in front of a storefront, a wide smile upon her face. The next was a picture of two children, a boy and a girl. The photo was faded, as if it were from several years ago. The boy, probably no more than two or three, was standing over a baby girl, his lips pressed to the top of her head. The infant was so tiny, the only clue to its gender was the silly looking headband strapped to her bald head. The third picture was of Blake again, presumably at her college graduation. It was the fourth and final picture that really caught my eye.

Impulsively, I picked it up. An image of Blake grinned back at me. Her eyes were shrouded by a pair of dark sunglasses. Her arms were wrapped tightly around a blonde male, also wearing shades. His smile was just as radiant, and I doubted that he would be any less attractive had I seen his eyes. Two impressively beautiful people, so happy and full of life.

A twinge of jealousy hit me as I realized that no such picture of myself and Eric existed.

Blake cleared her throat, and I realized that she was standing right behind me. How long she had been there I didn't know. I set the picture down, spinning around as heat filled my cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," I stammered, embarrassed at my rudeness.

She gave me an easy shrug. "No bother."

"Your boyfriend?" I asked, pointing to the picture I had just set down.

She giggled, a sweet melodic sound. Was everything about her perfect? "Or my brother."

If possible, my face turned even redder, prompting her to nearly convulse with laughter. "Don't worry, we get that all the time. The baby picture is us, too. I'm single. How about you?"

"I've got a boyfriend," I said hesitantly. Hell, I didn't even know if that was true anymore. "Eric. We've dated for about ten years."

Her eyes widened and I could see her brain working as she attempted to calculate my age. She had a point. Not many people my age could say they had been involved with someone for that length of time, especially not without some sort of vows exchanged or a diamond on their finger. Leave it to me to be the exception to that rule. Marriage hadn't even been a real discussion yet; the thought of committing myself to him for the rest of my life at the moment did nothing for me but make my stomach queasy. We had our issues to work through before making it legal.

"High school sweethearts." I smiled, hoping it was convincing.

She nodded. "Can I get you something to drink? If you have time, maybe we could talk a little before looking around. Get to know each other a bit?"

"Sounds good. I'll just take a water, thanks."

Blake led me through the door to the eat-in kitchen. The space was bigger than my entire apartment. The dining area was situated in front of a set of sliding glass doors which looked out onto a sizable deck. On the deck stood a hot tub. I imagined myself relaxing in the warm, pulsing jetted water, surveying the spacious backyard. If that didn't sound like paradise, I didn't know what did.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water. She handed me one, then sat down at the breakfast bar with her own. I followed suit, perching on the barstool and setting my water on the granite countertop.

"I apologize for earlier," she said with a smile, "I'm kind of surprised that you didn't turn around and run screaming the other way."

"I don't scare easily. You should see where I live now."

Blake's eyes filled with amusement. She grabbed her water, taking a long sip. The pause in conversation allowed me to take a good look at the real her, not the squinting, awkward lady that had greeted me initially.

She was classically beautiful, like a porcelain doll. She wore just the right amount of makeup to accentuate her delicate features, though I was sure she would turn heads bare-faced. Thick, platinum blond hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and down her back. A section of hair approximately an inch wide matched the deep aqua color of her eyes. Whether the blue streak was a dye job or an extension I couldn't tell. A tiny diamond stud sparkled from its place in her left nostril. Her lean, athletic frame draped effortlessly across the stool.

She was everything I wasn't. Instead of being jealous, I liked her immediately.

"So where is that exactly? Your current place?"

"I live in Indianapolis now. I got promoted so I have to relocate."

"Cool. What do you do?"

"I'm a mortgage underwriter."

"That sounds...interesting."

"No it doesn't." We both laughed. "What do you do?"

"I own my own business. I'm an interior decorator."

Well, that made a lot of sense. The other photo on the mantel was probably of Blake standing in front of her own business. That explained the obvious professional touch and the uniqueness of the furnishings. Maybe she wasn't rich; just talented.

"Your home is beautiful," I said sincerely.

Color flushed her cheeks. "Thank you. Ready to take the tour?"

I nodded. We left our half full water bottles on the counter and started with the kitchen. A door led to the garage; she opened it up and we stepped out. Her red Mazda Miata occupied the left hand side. Even though I thought a convertible was highly impractical for Indiana weather, the vehicle suited her perfectly. She explained that she also owned an SUV, but that was kept at her store and she rarely brought it home. If I rented the room, I would be able to park in the right hand space.

Like a realtor, she pointed out the main features of both the home and the community. She gestured to the hot tub on the deck. "The addition also has a pool, but I prefer to go over to my brother's house to use his. Matthew lives maybe fifteen minutes away. I'm over there quite a bit in the summer; he uses the hot tub in the fall. A pretty even trade off if you ask me. Of course, our invitation would extend to you."

My mind flashed back to the picture of her brother over her fireplace. For whatever reason, the thought of being included in their plans filled me with excitement. A reason that I was sure had nothing to do with seeing his attractive male form in a swimsuit. I pushed any impure thoughts deep down in my mind, telling myself that any guy who looked that good must be an extreme prick. Besides, I was in a serious relationship. I was here to find a roommate, not a new man.

We breezed through the great room, walking past the half bath and an exercise room. Like the rest of the home, both were well appointed and pristine. When we reached the doorway to what I assumed was her bedroom, she paused. Her fingers lingered on the doorknob, creating anticipation as if she were about to reveal a work of art.

"This," she breathed, "is fondly referred to as The Bubble Room."

She threw open the door and stepped inside. I followed behind her, my eyes growing large with awe. The expansive room was obviously the master bedroom, though it wasn't the square footage that was most impressive. The walls were coated with a rich lavender, the accents either black, white or silver.

Everything was circular, even the bed.

"Wow," I whispered.

"I know, right?"

I had never seen a circular bed before. Blake explained that the mattress had been custom ordered. She had constructed the bed frame herself, as well as the bedding. The pride in her eyes was evident as she described the process. Instead of coming off as self-absorbed, she seemed like an artist engrossed in her craft.

Our last stop on the tour was the loft. We backtracked through the lower level of the house and up the stairway to where my room would be located. There were actually two bedrooms on the second level. One Blake used as her home office, and it was filled with the trappings of her trade: a couple of sewing machines, an ironing board, a desk and piles and piles of fabric. This room was connected to the second bedroom by a Jack-and-Jill style bathroom.

"The bathroom will be all yours," she stated as we passed through, "so there won't be any problems getting ready in the morning."

Her selection of words was promising.

"And here it is. The room for rent."

Again, Blake swung open the door. She waved her arm around like a cross between an air traffic controller and a game show host. I attempted to hide my disappointment, but failed miserably.

Unlike the rest of the home, this room was stark white. Sure, it was furnished with a king sized bed, two matching nightstands and a dresser, but it lacked the warmth of any of the other rooms. Even the half bath downstairs had more personality. Guess that explained the bargain-basement rent.

"So far, I have been uninspired with this space," she began. That was pretty apparent. "I've lived here for about six months or so, and I just didn't know what to do in here. I suppose I could have turned it into a guest room, but I really don't ever have any guests. So I figured I would try to rent it out."

She studied my features as if looking for acceptance. I tried to turn my lips upwards into a reassuring smile. It was better than my current apartment. The monthly rent was a steal. I needed something furnished; I didn't want to buy furniture and then have to worry about moving it out when my lease was up. It fit my needs, however bland and boring it was.

"I like it," I said, practically choking on my words.

She snorted. "No you don't. But that's okay. Because now that you're here, I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to decorate it for you."

"Really?"

"Why not? Consider it a house warming gift. It won't take me long, and I promise that the result will be far more impressive than its current state."

"I couldn't ask you to do that for me."

"I'm offering."

"Okay, then. I guess that means I can move in?"

#### Chapter Four

The next few days passed in a blur. I was overwhelmed with last minute arrangements in regards to the move. Address changes, calling the utility companies, packing away more odds and ends until nothing remained but the clothes I needed and my toiletries. I had conceded defeat and boxed up the remaining kitchen supplies, opting for carry out once the fridge had been emptied of its contents.

Blake had been in contact with me several times. The first couple times had been strictly business. Her lawyer had drawn up the lease. She emailed it over to me and I signed and returned it. Once formalities were out of the way, we chatted more like I imagined future college roommates would have. I listed my inventory of household items; she checked off what she already had and what we could use. From her responses I guessed that she wasn't much of a chef.

I didn't want to rent a storage unit, so anything that I wasn't taking with me I needed to get rid of. Gracie had first dibs. After she had rifled through my unwanted stuff, I donated the rest. My tiny apartment had never seemed so spacious.

Now that it was moving day, my excitement had grown to fever pitch. Gracie and my father had insisted on coming over to help me load the Honda. I suspected they wanted to see me off more than anything else. I could cram the few boxes and bags I was keeping with me into my car with little effort, but the free labor was always appreciated.

When the doorbell buzzed, I pressed the intercom button and announced that whoever was there should come on up. My visitor did not respond, but I heard footsteps in the hallway a short time after. I truly expected it to be my dad since Gracie was rarely the first person to show up anywhere.

Instead, Eric stood before me. We hadn't really spoken since the argument. He had caved and sent me a few brief texts, excusing his distance by explaining that he was swamped at work and when he got home he was exhausted. Even though I sympathized with his plight, I felt slighted by his lack of consideration. He could deny that the move was happening all he wanted to, but it still didn't change the fact that our time in the same city was coming to a close.

"Hi," he said simply, bringing out two steaming cups of coffee from behind his back, "I would have brought flowers, but they don't travel well."

I accepted his peace offering eagerly. Taking a sip of the drink, I appraised him from head to toe. Instead of his usual suit and tie he was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt. For him, that was slumming. Just once I wished he'd loosen up a bit. His brown hair was cut very short; perfect for traveling and being nondescript. His green eyes looked dull and tired.

Maybe he had been really busy. I prayed that he was telling the truth. It wouldn't make sense for him to purposefully ignore me all week just to show up at my door to send me off. Not when I hadn't expected him to even make an appearance. No, this was an apology in disguise. He was truly sorry.

"I'm glad you came."

"You really think I would miss my chance to give you a proper send-off? I mean, look at you."

I giggled, staring down at my baggy sweats and t-shirt. Today was about comfort. Even though I would have plenty of help loading the car here, unloading was a different story. Blake didn't appear as though she was used to manual labor. She would just have to excuse my appearance; I was on a mission today. There was no time like the present for her to get used to me in my natural state.

I ran my fingers through my tousled hair and pretended to strike a pose. "Beautiful, right?"

"You are always beautiful, Lauren Marie Jefferies."

The words brought color to my cheeks. I set my coffee down on the empty kitchen counter, tears blurring my vision. Eric did the same, taking me into his arms. He brushed the moisture off my cheeks with his thumbs then pulled me closer to him. I buried my face in the smooth cotton of his shirt.

"I'm going to miss you so much," I whispered, my words muffled against his chest.

Somehow he still understood. "I'll miss you too."

We stood in the middle of my apartment silently embracing each other. Even though our history was filled of times spent apart, being the one doing the leaving didn't make it any easier. I wanted to commit every part of this moment to memory: his strong arms around me, his fingers stroking my hair, the smell of his aftershave, his warm breath against my neck, the steady beat of his heart. This would be what I thought of when things seemed too difficult to bear.

"I am so proud of you, sweetheart," he continued. The sound of his voice echoed in his chest, under my ear. "and I am so sorry for being selfish and wanting you to stay. You were right. This is your turn to shine. We can make this work. We'll figure out the details as we go."

I doubted he'd have had the courage to say those things if I had been looking him in the eye. He was not one to admit fault, ever. It was the best going away gift he could possibly have given me.

We stood there for either seconds or an eternity until the buzzer sounded again. I couldn't tell. Wiping my eyes, I pulled away and turned to the intercom. "Come on up; door's open."

Both my dad and Gracie entered the apartment shortly thereafter. They must have met in the parking lot. They attempted to hide their shock that Eric had shown up, my dad being far more successful than my best friend. Dad obviously was used to the hot and cold nature of our relationship; Gracie not as much. Dad also tolerated Eric's outbursts far better. I was convinced it was because I didn't share the details of our arguments. Since Gracie got only my side of the story, usually right after the heat of the moment, her opinion of Eric was not the best.

"Hi, Eric," my dad greeted.

"Doug, Gracie," Eric responded, turning on the salesman voice.

"Eric," Gracie said, barely hiding her disgust. She shot me a dirty look. My response was a shrug. She shook her head.

"So," I said, rubbing together my hands, "who's ready to move some boxes?"

Quick work was made of the task, and before I knew it my car had been loaded and the apartment was empty of my belongings. Even Eric had made the comment that he likely hadn't dressed for the job. My father had laughed heartily; Gracie snorted.

We regrouped in the now totally depersonalized space, perching on the tiny sofa and the kitchen counter. To be honest, four people was about all this square footage could handle comfortably. Gracie had stopped at her car to grab a grocery bag and she now produced its contents. She pulled out a fancy bottle of white grape juice and three red plastic cups. She set to work uncorking the champagne style bottle and pouring glasses of juice. She passed the cups out to me and my father, keeping the last one for herself. Eric's exclusion made the whole thing rather awkward. Thankfully, he pretended not to care.

"I would like to propose a toast," Gracie announced, raising her cup, "to the best mortgage underwriter the state of Indiana has ever seen. May she follow her dreams and help others achieve the goal of homeownership."

"Cheers," we all said in unison, the three of us with cups touching them together.

I dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"Hey," Gracie said with mock anger, "I worked really hard on that toast last night. No, in all seriousness, I don't think they could have picked a better lady for the job. You have been one of the best coworkers and friends I could ever have met. I already miss you terribly, and you haven't even left yet."

"Thanks, hon," I said, blushing again.

"Gracie's right," my father confirmed. "Your hard work and determination got you exactly what you wanted. You've been groomed for that job, and no matter how much you think it is a surprise, everyone here saw it coming. And to be here to see that my daughter has achieved her goals is probably one of the best moments of my life. Your mother would be so happy for you."

He brushed a tear from his eye, and the room got uncomfortably quiet. My father didn't bring up the subject of my mother often; it pained him too much. And to mention her in front of other people was something I had never seen him do. The gravity of the moment hit me hard, and I blinked back my own fresh tears.

Beside me, Eric fidgeted uncomfortably. He kept checking his watch, and I knew he was concocting an excuse to leave. Gracie also noticed, and her look could have shot daggers in his direction. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"I have a plane to catch."

Was that the truth, or just the best he could come up with?

"Oh, okay. Let me walk you out." I set down my cup and excused myself, trailing behind Eric.

He stopped once we got into the hallway to allow me to catch up. The visible tension in his body disappeared, and he reached over to take my hand. We walked down the stairs and out to the parking lot in silence. His BMW was parked beside the now overflowing Honda. He stared at my car for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his features.

"You know," he drawled, "you could always take your car over to my place and unload your stuff there."

"Eric, I don't want to fight about this anymore."

"I know. Just figured I would give it one last shot. You know I'm serious, right?"

I nodded, my heart sinking. After ten years of dating, the only way I would know he was serious was if he produced a diamond ring out of his pocket. As often as he mentioned giving me the world, buying me a new car and letting me shack up in his high rise, he wasn't yet willing to make it official. He wouldn't give me his commitment.

"Are you really leaving?"

"You mean was the plane an excuse to get out of there before Gracie bit my head off? Only partially. I can tell where I'm not wanted. But I do have to be on a flight in about three hours. Heading down to Atlanta for a conference. Thought I might get a few hours of entertainment in before it starts bright and early Monday morning."

"Oh."

"So, I guess this is it then. Be careful driving. I'll call you sometime tomorrow after we both get settled in."

He turned away from me to open his car door, effectively putting the glass and metal between us. Awkwardly, he gave me a small kiss while leaning over the door frame. The gesture would have been sufficient if I was his grandmother, but not for a departing girlfriend. Satisfied with his attempt at showing me affection, he lowered himself into the leather seat. The door closed with a solid, well- engineered thud. Eric started the ignition and the engine purred to life. The power window lowered and I bent down to hear him better over the music that played over his premium sound system.

"Goodbye, Lauren."

"Bye, Eric."

He put the car into reverse and backed out of the space. I watched his taillights disappear from my vision as the words I wanted him to say formed on my lips.

"I love you," I whispered to no one in particular.

Back upstairs, Gracie and my father were deep in conversation about what my new bedroom would look like. I had shared with them that Blake would be decorating it especially for me, but that she had been very secretive about what modifications she had made. In fact, even though we had been in contact nearly every day since I originally saw the place, she had refused to even give me a hint. She only promised that I would be extremely happy.

"Unicorns?" my dad suggested.

"I think it will be rainbows," Gracie said.

"You guys are silly," I said, hoping I sounded lighthearted.

Truth be told, Eric's abrupt departure had been a definite mood killer. I knew that Gracie hadn't anticipated him being here, but I really wished that she had brought a handful of cups instead of just bringing the exact number she thought had been needed. That couldn't have helped things.

"You okay?" Gracie asked.

"Yeah," I lied. "I just better get this show on the road. I need to take the keys back to the leasing office, and they close at noon. No time like the present."

Gracie and my father exchanged a knowing glance, but didn't press the issue. Instead, they got busy cleaning up the small mess that they had created with the toast. The trash was collected in the grocery bag, and everything was good to go.

"Just give me a moment," I said.

"No problem," my dad responded, "we'll just take this out to the dumpster and wait for you at your car. You can drop off your keys and then meet us in the parking lot."

"Take your time," Gracie said, squeezing my shoulder as my dad ushered her out the door.

I took a final lap around the space, knowing that I would never be back. Within these walls, my adulthood had begun. Even though it was small, rundown and in a less than savory neighborhood, it had still been my first place. A small taste of freedom and success. A tiny sanctuary.

My hand ran over the back of the tattered loveseat, remembering long discussions with Gracie. Usually over something Eric had done to upset me. Sometimes, though, we discussed her non-existent love life or her career aspirations. Since she was a few years younger than me, I had stepped into the role of big sister and friend, able to dispense advice from my own experiences.

I moved to the kitchen area, pausing at the counter to remember my daily coffee routine. I would perch on the counter with a freshly brewed cup and mentally prepare myself for the day ahead. Since I also liked to cook, I had made many dishes here. I typically packaged them up when done and transported them over to someone else's place, my apartment not as suitable as some for entertaining. Cooking for one had never really appealed to me.

The trundle bed had been closed up into the wall. Of all the features here, this would be the one I would miss the least. When I first moved in, I thought it was an interesting novelty item. I quickly began to realize it was horribly impractical. At the end of an exhausting day, the last thing I had ever wanted to do was fold out my bed and ready it for the night. Occasionally, I had even fallen asleep on the couch and just stayed there.

The only room with an interior door was the bathroom, a tiny three piece with a shower designed only for someone my size. Nothing special here.

I grasped the keys in my hand and shut the door softly behind me. Part of me wanted to turn back and stay living in the safety that I had created here. I kept walking, eyes firmly fixed ahead of me. I dropped off the keys to the less than friendly lady at the leasing office then exited to the parking lot.

Hugs were exchanged all the way around. Over the past year or so that Gracie and I had worked together, she had been a constant presence in my life. Since I was so close with my dad, that relationship had also carried over to her. I knew he considered Gracie to be his second daughter, and I doubted that would change just because I moved two hours away.

Knowing that they wouldn't leave prior to me pulling away, I slid behind the wheel of the Honda. As I turned the key in the ignition, I smiled in earnest. I rolled down the window and said my goodbyes. Ironically, neither my dad nor Gracie had an issue with telling me they loved me, a sentiment that I easily returned. I wondered why Eric found it so hard.

As I pulled away, I checked the rearview mirror to find both of them waving. I honked my horn and prepared for the drive. This time, I was confident enough to not need a map or my GPS. The only difficulty I anticipated having in getting there wasn't until I was actually in the addition that contained Blake's house. I figured there was no time like the present to gather my bearings.

Gracie called me as soon as I hit the interstate. I imagined she had raced home after seeing me off, ready for a gossip session that wouldn't be suitable for my father's ears. I filled her in on Eric's unexpected appearance and my bipolar emotions on the subject. Of course, I appreciated the effort but found the execution lacking.

"What a jerk," Gracie summed up. "I can't believe he didn't say he loved you."

"And I can't believe you didn't bring him a glass. Can we say awkward?"

Gracie giggled. "When I saw his car in the parking lot, I about died. But he doesn't change his plans for you, so why would I change mine to include him?"

"I could tell it irked him. At first, it bothered me. Now, after the whole parking lot thing, it kind of serves him right."

"Of course it serves him right. You could do so much better. Maybe now you will."

"Gracie!" I admonished. This was certainly not the first time she had suggested that I choose to end the relationship, but she usually hinted around the subject instead of saying it outright.

"What? I'm just saying that if you find some hot guy at the new office, maybe you could upgrade. It's not like Eric owns you. Or even acts like he wants to claim you."

"Says the girl who has never had a serious relationship."

"Doesn't mean that I can't make accurate observations."

We chatted for nearly the entire trip, speaking about everything from happenings at my old office to celebrity gossip. I hoped that we would never lose this part of our friendship. Even though I was convinced that we would never completely lose touch, especially with my father involved, I wasn't naïve enough to pretend that things wouldn't change. I vowed to speak to Blake in regards to having Gracie spend a weekend or two once things got settled down. The two would probably get along famously. Still, I knew from past friendships that distance posed several problems. Even if she did visit, it wouldn't be the same as knowing she could drop in at any time. Even though we could still email each other at work, it wasn't like walking across the lobby and asking her to grab some lunch. Phone calls were nice, but not the same. And when life got busy, communications slowed between those you didn't see in person much until it got easier to just not call at all. I kept this all to myself. No need to crush her upbeat demeanor.

"You have got to text me pictures of your new room. I want to see if I'm right about the rainbows."

"Shut up, Gracie."

"Fine, then. I guess my work here is done. I'll talk to you later."

Unlike my doubts with Eric, I knew Gracie would keep her word.

"See you later."

I hung up my cell and tossed it on the passenger seat. By this point, I was only about ten minutes away from Blake's. It still didn't feel right to call it my place. I wasn't sure it ever would. Surprisingly enough, I drove right to the house. I sighed with relief as I pulled in the driveway. It would have been majorly embarrassing to have to activate the GPS only to find out I was two streets away.

I exited the car and walked up the sidewalk to the front porch. As I rang the doorbell, I wondered if Blake would greet me anywhere near as comically as the first time. To my disappointment, she answered quickly and without any odd expression. However, the wide smile on her face did much to alleviate my nervousness.

"Hey, girl," she said brightly, "come on in."

I followed her into the home. She went directly to the mantle, grabbing my house key and garage door opener and presenting them to me.

"No more ringing the doorbell," she laughed.

"Thanks. It's always important to be able to enter your own place."

"Now, if you want to discuss giving your boyfriend a key, I would be open to it as long as I met him first. My brother's the only other person with a key, so you don't have to worry about any weirdos running around here. I'd like to keep it that way."

"I don't think Eric will be needing a key."

Blake looked at me as if that was the oddest thing she had ever heard in her life. I shrugged, attempting to think of a reason that was better than the truth. I didn't want to insult her by telling her that he probably would never want to set foot in the house. At least not on day one. Leave the baggage for a little bit later.

"He has his own place in Indy. Since he lives alone, it's probably easier when we spend weekends together to just do it there. That way I'm not imposing."

"Whatever floats your boat. If you change your mind, the offer still stands. But I hope I get to meet him at some point. Otherwise I might begin to think he's a figment of your imagination."

Her and me both.

"Come on," she continued, grabbing my hand, "let's go see your room."

Her excitement was contagious, and the two of us practically ran up the stairs to the loft. I hoped that neither my father nor Gracie were correct about the theme. The door to the room was closed and sported an oversized red ribbon and bow. She instructed me to close my eyes and I said a silent prayer as I turned the knob.

My eyes fluttered open as I stepped through the entryway, feeling the plush carpeting sink under my feet. My jaw dropped open and I spun around to face Blake. She stood, arms folded across her chest, leaning against the wall.

"You like?" she asked, the nervousness in her voice evident. I doubted she lacked confidence with her actual clients and wondered what the difference was here.

"Blake," I breathed, walking further into the room, touching the furniture and the layers of fabric, "this is amazing."

The transformation was nothing short of miraculous. Only a week before, this room had stood nondescript and vacant. Today, it looked like someone's home. The white walls had been replaced by a pastel pink shade. Instead of looking like a nursery, the childish color was tempered with a dark, almost black, charcoal gray. The dressers and nightstands were painted a glossy black, the drawer handles replaced with crystals. The bed was covered with a no-doubt custom made comforter that interwove all of the elements of the bedroom: charcoal gray velveteen fabric, light pink satin and black lace.

"I can't believe you would do something like this for me. I mean, we have known each other for about five minutes, and you were able to create something that is totally me. This is what I would have chosen for myself, if I knew what I was talking about."

"Hey, it's just my job."

Impulsively, I ran over and gave her a hug. Instead of being weirded out, she accepted the affection gracefully. Maybe she was one of those touchy, feely people.

"Thank you so much. I love it."

"You're welcome."

"Now the fun begins. Moving all my stuff in here."

Blake laughed. "Probably easier to leave your car in the driveway and unload it there. More of a straight shot through the front door than the garage."

"Well thought out. Like you've moved things before."

She laughed. "You have no idea."

At that moment, her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, checking the display. "I've got to take this one. It's a client. Be down in a minute."

She pressed something on the phone and began her conversation. "Snyder Designs," she answered cheerfully. She turned and headed into the home office, her words becoming indistinguishable.

Just when she'd been about to help, that convenient call had come in. I wondered if she would drag it out longer than necessary just to avoid helping. She didn't quite seem the type to do that. As I descended the stairs, I wondered how long I could stall unloading the Honda. Two could play this game.

Pushing my immature thoughts aside, I headed out the front door and to my car. She was a business owner, a talented one at that, and duty called. Her client wouldn't know that Blake was welcoming a new roommate today. Blake would take the call, be a true professional and get things accomplished as soon as she could. Then she would be down to help. Exactly as she had said.

The cul-de-sac was fairly quiet for this time on a Saturday afternoon. I looked around, trying to decide if this was the kind of neighborhood where I could leave my car unlocked without anyone messing with it. The simplest plan of attack would be to open all four doors and the trunk and just move everything out as quickly as possible. It would really slow things down if I had to open, close and repeat for each load. Since no one at all appeared to be outside I went with my original thought. Most likely, no one would want any of my stuff anyway. Or the car itself, for that matter.

I grabbed the first few items out of the passenger seat. All lightweight, easy to carry stuff. I would break myself in easy. With any luck, Blake would appear soon and she could help me struggle with the heavy stuff. When I had been packing, it had seemed like a good idea to put all of the kitchen stuff together in a single box. However, I hadn't accounted for the fact that it would weigh so much. I had nearly laughed out loud when Eric, dressed in his khakis and polo shirt, had insisted he could handle it. He had barely been able to lift the thing. I wondered if Blake and I would be able to give it a go. If not, the only other options were to unpack it in the driveway and carry everything in piece by piece or drive around with it wedged in my trunk.

Blake was still on the phone when I made my first trip in and out of the house. To save time, I decided to just pile everything in one corner of the room. I had thought about putting everything on the bed, but I didn't want to accidentally tear the comforter. After everything was unloaded, then I could worry about organizing it all.

I was just making my choices for a second load when the crisp early fall air was punctuated by the sound of a car's engine. Unlike the quiet, timid sound of your typical suburban minivan or sedan, this sounded full of power and speed. In fact, I heard the car long before I saw it. I set down the duffel bag I had been holding, intrigued.

When the car came into view, I could see it was a Mustang. Not a base model, either. This was one of the expensive, special order kinds that was made for fun. This particular one was bright yellow with black racing stripes painted down the middle of the hood, which surely wrapped around and down the trunk. A convertible.

What were people in Indiana thinking when they bought convertibles?

Very impractical. But very beautiful.

And heading towards me.

It pulled in Blake's driveway beside my rusty Honda. The engine shut off and peace was restored to the neighborhood once more. The driver's door swung open and before I knew it, I stood face to face with Matthew Snyder.

#### Chapter Five

"You must be Lauren," he said, extending his hand. I nodded mutely, willing my palm to travel the short distance between us to conduct the greeting. "I'm Matthew, Blake's brother."

"Nice to meet you," I said. At least it was my intention to say those words audibly. I wasn't sure if I had accomplished that.

Our hands were still touching, suspended in a freeze frame style handshake. The electricity that passed through my fingers was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I wondered if he felt the same thing on the receiving end of my touch. Slowly, he released his firm grip on my hand.

I wasn't sure if the male or female version of the Snyder gene pool was more impressive. The picture on Blake's mantle certainly didn't do him justice, and I had thought he was attractive even then. Like Blake, he was tall and athletic. My best estimate suggested six foot four, give or take an inch. They had the same piercing blue eyes. Though Matthew was also blond, his hair was a few shades darker than his sister's. His longish, messy cut accentuated his handsome features and made him appear as though he had just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.

I instantly regretted my decision to play it casual today. I was to the point where I was comfortable in my own skin, but I paled in comparison to the perfection in front of me. I was dressed as though I had just woken up. What a way to make a first impression.

"Hey there, dork!" Blake cried as she came out of the front door. She bounded down the sidewalk to her brother, engulfing him in a giant hug. Touchy, feely type indeed.

"Hey, sunshine."

I made my way around to the passenger side of my car and started collecting more items to bring inside. Hey, the car wasn't going to unload itself. My movement caused the siblings to spring into action as well.

Blake grabbed a box from the backseat, proving me wrong about her not wanting to help. She carried it into the house without the slightest complaint. Matthew chose to tackle the trunk. Of course, he reached for the large box in question, lifting it up with ease. Even though its contents were clearly marked, I unnecessarily told him it belonged in the kitchen.

"Duly noted," he replied with a grin.

His smile was perfect, too, framed by two deeply set dimples.

I followed him into the house, shaking my head.

With three of us unloading, we made quick work of bringing my stuff inside. I hurried out the door one last time to close up the car and pull it into the garage. My move finally felt real as I entered through the garage door into the kitchen. I was officially home.

Blake and Matthew were sitting at the breakfast bar, laughing about something when I walked in. Not wanting to intrude, I hurried past them. Now was as good of a time as any to start unpacking. I shuddered at the daunting task. I had made it almost into the living room before Blake called after me.

"Lauren, where you going?"

I stopped and spun around. "To unpack."

"Matthew and I were just talking about going out to the hot tub. Then we were going to go get dinner. Why don't you come with? Unpacking can wait."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't be silly, Lauren. Of course I'm sure. You have a swimsuit, right?"

I nodded. "Somewhere."

"Then it's settled. Go up and change."

There was no use in arguing. Clearly the girl was intent on making me feel welcome. Since this was what I had originally wanted, I should be happy. Instead, as I wandered upstairs, I wondered how I would explain this to Eric. I doubted he would be thrilled that I was hot tubbing and going out to dinner with my new roommate's very attractive brother. Then again, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

My swimsuit was in the third box I opened. I hurriedly slipped it on and then checked myself out in the bathroom mirror. Not bad. The black two-piece revealed just enough to not be considered matronly. My petite frame looked more girlish than womanly, but there was nothing I could do about that. I scooped up my beach towel and slid into my flip flops.

Blake and Matthew were already outside by the time I returned downstairs. Either Matthew kept swimming trunks here, or he had come prepared. He stood with his back to the door, helping Blake lift the cover off of the hot tub. I paused, allowing myself a moment to ogle from the safety of the kitchen. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and my face was undoubtedly still red as I walked out to the deck. Blake smirked as I shuffled out of my flip flops, discarded my towel and lowered myself into the water.

The hot tub was a four seater. Blake and Matthew sat across from each other, so my only options were to sit on either Matthew's right or left. Even if I had been sitting in Blake's position, it wasn't as if we would have been any farther apart. I sat on the left, figuring that way I wouldn't accidentally bump into him as I scooted past. I pulled my legs up to my chest, extremely conscious of the tight quarters.

Hot water swirled around my shoulders. One of the jets was pointed towards my back, and I instantly relaxed. My eyes slid closed, and my legs stretched out ever so slightly.

"Nice, isn't it?" Matthew asked.

"I could get used to this," I conceded.

"One of the best decisions I ever made was to talk my baby sister into buying it."

Blake splashed him with water. "Yeah, and now he never leaves."

The two of them giggled, and my eyes fluttered open. I wondered how truthful those words were. Blake had alluded to the fact that she and Matthew were very close during a couple of phone conversations. At the time, I had felt a twinge of jealousy, the only child in me acting out. I couldn't imagine having a brother or sister, let alone being best friends with him or her. The way they interacted with each other made me wonder why she had ever moved out of his house.

"So, you're from Indy originally?" Matthew asked, turning towards me. As he made the slight movement, his foot brushed mine. Maybe it was just the hot water, but the contact burned as the sensation traveled up my leg.

I coughed prior to answering. "Born and raised."

"That's cool. Just seems odd that your promotion would take you to Fort Wayne instead of the other way around."

"Life is crazy sometimes that way. But our corporate office is here, so it all makes sense."

"Blake and I have lived here all our lives, too. We grew up pretty close to here. I admire someone who can leave everything they've known behind and start out fresh."

For whatever reason, at that moment I glanced over at Blake. Her expression was unreadable. She stared down at the surface of the water, almost despondent.

"I'm hoping that not everything gets left behind," I joked. "My boyfriend might have issues with that."

There. I had managed to work Eric's existence into the conversation in a way that felt natural enough. I wasn't sure whose benefit that was for: Matthew's or mine. If Blake hadn't mentioned it before, now he would know. And saying the words helped me to feel less guilty about the fact that I was checking out Blake's brother. Looking never hurt anyone, right?

Matthew's expression didn't let on if he was disappointed. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I suppose not. That must be hard."

"We have a long history of being miles apart," I admitted.

"That's too bad," he mused. "If you were my girlfriend, I would want you right by my side."

My breath caught in my lungs. Was he flirting with me? The sheer possibility made my heart accelerate. I struggled to bring myself under control. I failed miserably.

"So," Blake said brightly, "I was thinking we could go to my favorite Italian restaurant. Do you like Italian food, Lauren?"

Bless her for changing the subject.

"I love it." This was true. However, at this particular time, she could have asked me if I wanted to eat dinner out of the nearest dumpster and I would have agreed.

"We better start getting ready," she suggested. "Meet you there in an hour or so, dork?"

"Okay, sure." Matthew agreed.

Blake pulled herself out of the water. As far as looking good in a swimsuit, I was no match for her. Her tiny bikini showed off all of her assets and was designed for someone extremely confident about her own body. Her flat stomach was accentuated by a delicate tattoo of sunflowers that circled her navel. Her belly button was pierced, speared with a long metallic blue spiral. She gave no attention to the fact that she stood in a state of partial undress. As she walked past her brother, she reached down and smacked him on the back of the head. She collected her towel and stood on the deck, obviously waiting for me to exit the hot tub and follow her inside.

I followed suit, except for the violence of course. I wrapped my towel tightly around my shoulders.

We left Matthew outside to tend to closing up the hot tub. Apparently this wasn't an issue, even though I felt guilty about it. He acted like it was no big deal. By the time we crossed the deck to the sliding glass door, he had already gotten out and was working on putting the cover on. I threw a glance over my shoulder, wondering if I was just reading too much into his comment.

Blake didn't seem to think so. "I'm sorry about that," she hissed as she opened the door and we walked inside.

I shrugged. "It's not a problem."

"Your relationship is none of his business. Especially when he just met you. I mean, your poor boyfriend isn't here to defend himself and my brother's already passing judgment."

"I'm not offended. It's okay."

"Whatever. Don't let him get away with that crap just because he's hot."

I blushed.

She laughed. "Don't think I didn't notice you checking him out."

"It was that obvious?"

"Don't worry; you were discreet. And your secret's safe with me."

We parted ways to go to our respective bathrooms to get ready. Blake had indicated that the restaurant was casual, so I'd be okay wearing jeans. I breathed a sigh of relief. Fancy dining wasn't really my thing. Besides, I didn't have anything suitable to wear for a five-star establishment.

I showered quickly, relishing the superior water pressure. Within half an hour, I had dressed and done full hair and makeup. Much more impressive than my appearance had been this afternoon. Not that it mattered, right?

I had a boyfriend. Eric was my boyfriend. I repeated the mantra in my head, over and over.

Sure, it was fun to look, but nothing would ever come of this.

Blake wasn't yet ready, so I plopped down on the couch in the living room to wait. She appeared just a couple minutes later, beautiful as always.

"Ready to go?" she asked. "I'll drive."

We piled into her Miata and drove off. It was the perfect opportunity for me to do a little sightseeing and familiarize myself with my new home. We passed the onramps for the interstate and continued towards downtown. The restaurant wasn't too far away, possibly a ten minute drive. Blake scanned the parking lot for the Mustang. Not finding it there yet, she pulled the tiny convertible into a spot fairly far from the entrance. The place looked busy.

For the second time that day, I heard the car before I saw it. Matthew parked right beside us. I moved to get out of the car, my hand on the lever to open the passenger door. He beat me to it, exiting his own car and opening my door in one slick gesture. Taken aback, I stared up into his deep blue eyes. He held out his hand to help me out. I accepted, again feeling the electricity between us.

"Hey, gorgeous," he greeted.

At first, I assumed that his comment was directed to his sister. However, he was looking directly at me. If I wasn't red already, I most certainly was now.

I stood there awkwardly, frozen. He reached behind me to close my car door when I made no move to. His arm brushed my shoulder as he did so. I breathed in his nearness. He smelled of nothing that would normally be remarkable, just soap. In this case, however, it was intoxicating.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," he continued softly.

"It's okay," I whispered back. "No offense taken."

I wondered if Blake had put him up to this. She stood at the hood of her car, observing us. Matthew let out a sigh of relief and stuck his tongue out at her. She shook her head and we walked up to the entrance together. I trailed slightly behind.

My suspicions were right. There was a forty-five minute wait for a table. Blake assured me that this wasn't out of the ordinary on a Saturday night. We passed the time talking about a wide variety of things until an easy silence fell between us. I made sure to keep Blake between us as a buffer.

I repeated my newly created mantra in my head all through dinner. We were seated in a booth, Matthew across from Blake and me. I kept my feet tucked close to the bench seat, afraid to stretch my legs and bump into him under the table. I allowed the two of them to dominate the conversation, listening politely and averting my eyes even though I could feel Matthew's burning into me.

When we returned to the car, I finally relaxed. I hadn't even realized all the tension in my body until Matthew took off in the Mustang and Blake and I were left alone. I slumped down in my seat.

Blake didn't notice at first. "So, how was it?"

"The food was delicious. You were right."

She smiled triumphantly. Then she took a closer look at me. "You okay?"

I nodded. "It's just been a long day."

Wisely, she accepted my answer. We drove home in relative silence, and I excused myself to my room under the guise of needing to unpack. I closed the door, flopping onto my new queen sized bed. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Gracie's number. She answered on the second ring.

"What's up, hon?" she asked breezily.

"The room's beautiful. You'll have to come see it. I'll send you some pictures later."

"Awesome. I can't wait."

I spent the next twenty minutes pretending that I wasn't about to have a nervous breakdown. Gracie's voice was comforting. We recounted the remainder of our day. She told me about her latest shopping trip. I told her about the Italian restaurant. We decided that she needed to go there with me when she came to visit. I left out all things Matthew.

After we hung up, I remained flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Tears clouded my vision. I had to be imagining this. Matthew was just being nice. He wasn't interested in me. Just one abnormally perfect guy who was attempting to make me feel welcome. Just a pretty face. Nothing more.

I rolled over onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow. Guilt plagued me as I realized Eric's touch no longer made me react the way Matthew's innocent gestures had. Had it ever? I thought of my boyfriend, en route to Atlanta with no clue that I was here, thinking impure thoughts. I snorted, realizing that he would undoubtedly be ogling some showgirls soon without remorse. From him, I expected that behavior. From myself, not so much.

Even though I knew that Eric's phone would be shut off during the flight, I still texted him. I told him that I had made it safely to Fort Wayne, that I hoped his trip went well and that I loved him. When I rolled over to check my phone hours later, there was still no response.

As I drifted back to sleep, Gracie's parting words haunted me.

Are you ready for an upgrade?

#### Chapter Six

My final week of vacation went quickly. I had finally gotten everything unpacked and organized so that I could locate it in a timely fashion. The move from a studio apartment to one room in a house wasn't too traumatic, especially since half of my kitchen stuff had found a home downstairs. Technically, I supposed I could claim the majority of the loft area as my own, save for Blake's office/workroom.

I was slowly getting used to sharing my space with someone else. We had established a routine of sorts, and I was starting to feel less like a guest and more like I belonged there. I no longer felt like I was intruding upon her each and every time we crossed paths. She really seemed to enjoy having me around, as if I filled some kind of a void in her life. I didn't question the strangeness of the situation: a young, talented, beautiful success story who only associated with her brother and needed a roommate to find a friend.

One of the things I had quickly learned was that Blake was not an early riser. Being self-employed, she chose to open her business later in the morning and work equally late into the evening. I couldn't call her lazy, however. After we ate, most nights she would retreat upstairs and work for a couple hours more.

As for Matthew, he had stopped by several times. Once he heard that I was actually a pretty good cook, those visits seemed to come around dinner time. I attempted to keep my distance at first, but was drawn to his outgoing personality. After I decided that he wasn't acting any differently towards me than he did his sister, I began to relax. This I could handle. As an only child, I had always wanted a sibling and now he was going to make that dream come true. So what if my older "brother" was totally hot?

In a moment of that brotherly type of concern, he had grabbed my cell phone and entered in his contact information. As he explained, since I was two hours away from most of the people that I knew, I couldn't exactly call one of them if I locked myself out of the house or had car trouble. With a fifteen year old car, he had a point. I just hoped that Eric wouldn't notice the addition to my address book.

I stood in front of the mirror on my first day of my new job, critiquing my appearance. I was dressed to impress in a conservative navy blue pantsuit and beige high heels. My hair and makeup had been toned down for the workplace and I looked every bit management material.

Of course, I had the kitchen all to myself. I shuffled around as quietly as possible, selecting a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee for breakfast. I sat on a barstool and stared outside at nothing in particular as I ate.

My anticipation had caused me to wake up extra early, and I had plenty of time before I had to leave. Finally, I couldn't stand waiting any longer and I decided to get going. I loaded the dishwasher, grabbed my purse and keys and headed out the door.

During the week I had been here, I had ventured out a couple times to help myself get acclimated to my new city. Therefore, I knew right where I needed to go and the best way to get there. Even with the morning traffic adding a few minutes to my commute I still was one of the first cars in the parking lot. I drove to the far side of the lot, selecting a spot on the outer edge. I hoped I was not taking someone else's place. I didn't want to create enemies on my first day over something stupid.

Corporate headquarters was a large brick building that architecturally resembled a rectangle. All on one level, it stretched expansively across the lot. Since this was strictly employee-only territory, the focus was on form and functionality, not on creating a good first impression. I laughed as I strode up the sidewalk, wondering what Blake would have to say about that.

The automatic doors slid open for me as I approached. I walked into the lobby, taking a quick look around as I went to the receptionist's desk. No inspiration here either. Grey commercial carpeting lined the floors, contrasting with the ivory walls. Someone had attempted to add color by setting giant potted plants around randomly. A few large prints hung on the walls, obvious reproductions.

The receptionist was already at her post. She was a younger looking redhead, perhaps fresh out of college. The nameplate on her desk informed me that her name was Rebecca. She smiled brightly as I came closer, greeting me with a polite "May I help you?"

"I'm Lauren Jefferies," I replied. "I just transferred from the Indy branch. Today's my first day here."

She consulted something on her desk, possibly a planner or calendar, then tapped her pen against it. "Ah, yes. The new Director of Underwriting. If you want to have a seat, I'll see if George is ready for you." Rebecca gestured to a bargain mart style couch to her left prior to picking up her telephone and dialing an extension. Effectively dismissed, I took a seat where indicated.

As I waited, I watched as other employees began to trickle in. Most juggled briefcases or laptops and their morning fix of coffee. Some looked barely alive, others appeared as though they had been up for hours and were eager to begin the workday. A few glanced in my general direction. I smiled and tried to look as friendly as possible. I wondered if any of them were on my staff. Our bank wasn't anywhere near the size of the megabanks, but with locations throughout Indiana it was impossible to know everyone. I was certain that I had communicated with some of these people before in the regular course of business, but I had no clue what faces to put with what names.

A few moments later, a distinguished looking gentleman I assumed to be the George in question strode up to me. My best guess would place him at about mid-fifties, just a touch of gray hair highlighting his temples. He was dressed in an expensive looking three piece suit. We exchanged a brief appraising look at each other before he spoke.

"Ms. Jefferies?"

I stood, extending my hand. He gripped it firmly, shaking it as he introduced himself.

"George Anderson, Vice President. A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

He motioned for me to follow him. "I'll show you to your office first, then we will do the grand tour. Our workday will be starting in about-" he referred to his watch, "twenty minutes for the hourly employees, so you'll be able to meet your staff then."

I nodded, having to walk quickly to stay on pace with him. The two weeks off of high heels had left me a bit rusty. Between that and the nerves setting in, I needed to be extra careful that I wouldn't face plant myself in the hallway.

The corridors were equally unimpressive. We walked past the common areas: restrooms, breakroom, copy machine, then turned down a hallway that opened up into an expansive area filled with groupings of cubicles. George made a quick turn to the left, explaining that this was where my team sat. The door to my office was on the far left hand side wall. The room was unlocked, the heavy wooden door propped open slightly. He pushed it open the rest of the way and flipped on the light.

A large wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, facing the entryway. When I would take my seat in the faux leather office chair, I could effectively keep an eye on the cubicles from afar. Two mismatched cushioned chairs were placed opposite my perch, barely squeezed into the small space. A cheaply fashioned bookcase stood empty along the right hand wall.

Not perfect, but at least it was better than I was accustomed to at the branch.

"Of course, you may bring in some personal touches to make this seem more like home," George smiled as if he sensed my disappointment. "We have sent for some of your reference materials to be brought in from the other office. They should be arriving sometime today, by the looks of things."

"Sounds good."

Since we had already seen most of the other important sections of the building on our way to my office, the grand tour really didn't amount to much. The facility had a basement, where the mailroom was located as well as the company's server room. All in all, this building housed most of the operational functions of the organization. The official, true corporate headquarters of the bank was found downtown in a much more glamorous location. To say I was slightly discouraged was an understatement, but I reminded myself that a promotion was a promotion.

I wouldn't mention the majority of the details to Eric. He would definitely gloat if he ever found out.

The tour finished, George escorted me back to my office. He informed me that my computer should already be ready to go and I should be able to use my same logins and passwords as before. He paused in the doorway to remind me that his office was just three doors down and to feel free to stop by if I needed anything. His sense of bravado had diminished greatly by this point in time, and I decided that I liked him.

I sat down in my chair and powered up my computer. As I waited for everything to come up, I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and set it on the desktop. The notification light flashed brightly at me, and I checked to see what or whom I had missed. There were three texts wishing me luck. One from my father, one from Blake and the last from Matthew. I smiled as I read through them, deleting my dad's and Blake's immediately after. For whatever reason, I kept the one from Matthew.

When I was able to sign in to my work email, I clicked on the message from Gracie first. She was also wishing me luck, of course, and I quickly typed back that I would call her later with all of the scoop. I knew this would make her happy, and also fill her with anticipation. She knew me well enough to know that if everything was favorable, I would have just come right out and said it. However, I wasn't about to write anything that could be considered a critical review of my surroundings and send it via company email.

True to George's word, my team filed in right before eight in the morning. Trust me, I sympathized, having been there, done that. I would be overseeing four employees who basically did the same job that I had done at the branch. However, most branches did not have a field underwriter. The sheer volume of applications processed in the Indianapolis market had made me a necessary anomaly; the majority of underwriting was done right here. In essence, the loan officer took an application, then sent the complete file to me, the Director of Underwriting, to distribute amongst my team for processing. I would now have a supervisory role, though all tough decisions would ultimately be my call.

I locked my workstation and rose from my desk, eager to meet the people I would be working with. This was where the nervousness came into play. Being as young as I was, I was no stranger to the fact that others might have a hard time taking orders from me. I wanted to come across with just the right mixture of friendliness and authority. I had no clue what their opinions had been of my predecessor. I only hoped they would give me a fair chance.

As I crossed the distance between my office and the grouping of cubicles, four sets of eyes turned and looked back at me expectantly. Fortunately, none of them looked like they were ready to bite my head off.

"Good morning," I said with more confidence than I felt, "I'm Lauren Jefferies. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I walked from desk to desk, shaking hands with each person. Bob Patterson was the employee with the most seniority in the department, almost sixteen years' worth. I spied a family picture on his desktop. He had a lovely wife and a son that looked like he was in high school. Samantha Walters was next; she had just started at the bank about four months prior. She was middle to late twenties, single from the looks of it. The only picture on her desk was a candid shot of her puppy. Lisa Allen was a rather established employee with five years' experience. She was more of a mystery; her workstation was very clean and lacked any personality whatsoever. Kelly Jones rounded out the group. I had actually spoken with Kelly several times on the phone, and she looked nothing like I would have imagined. She had a girlish, almost bubbly voice, but in reality was a little on the Amazonian side. An imposing presence indeed. Kelly had been with the company for the last nine years.

Everyone seemed friendly enough, though I suppose they could have been shooting daggers in my direction the minute I spun around to go back to my office. I had quite a bit to do, the most important task in my opinion being to figure out what everyone's workload looked like. My plan was to distribute applications evenly until I had a feel for each individual's work product. That way I would hopefully not appear to be playing favorites.

The morning flew by and before I knew it, it was time for lunch. I had purposefully not packed anything from home, partially because I had a phobia of being the new girl in the lunchroom and more importantly so I would get a feel for my surroundings. I had passed a number of fast food restaurants on my way to work; I chose to stop at the nearest burger joint and enjoy something totally greasy and bad for me. When I cooked, it was typically healthier fare so I considered myself entitled to cheat a little bit.

When I returned to my office, I noticed two things that weren't there before I left. The first item, the box of reference materials George mentioned, was placed right by the door, and I nearly tripped over it because my eyes were focused on the second. Atop my desk was a large vase filled with red roses. If I were to guess, I would have said two dozen of the flowers. I didn't have to consult the accompanying card to know who they were from.

I plucked the tiny envelope from the plastic holder and removed the card inside. The handwriting was feminine in appearance, and so not Eric's, even though the arrangement was from him. Since he was two hours away, if not more, it didn't surprise me that there wasn't a personal greeting. I seriously doubted that he would drive all the way to Fort Wayne to write three lines on a card.

Especially not the words on this particular card.

"Congratulations on your promotion," I read aloud softly. "Yours, Eric."

I threw down the card in disgust. Not even an "I love you". This very card could have been sent to a business associate without raising any eyebrows whatsoever. Change the roses to daisies or carnations, and there would be no trace of romance or attraction.

For the rest of the day, I worked in a jungle of roses. I stared up at them occasionally, shooting them dirty looks. As flowers in an office setting were prone to do, these brought visitors to my desk. Lots of people commented on how beautiful they were. I considered passing them out to the highest bidder. Instead, I snatched them up at the end of the day and loaded them into the Honda.

Blake wasn't home yet when I arrived. I carried the offending flowers through the kitchen and slammed them down on the table. Excess water splashed out of the vase, and I wiped it up carefully before I began dinner preparations. As usual, I decided to cook for three. Better to make more food than necessary than take the risk that Matthew wouldn't show up.

With the oven preheating, I ran upstairs to change out of my work clothes and into a pair of sweats. When I returned downstairs, Matthew was seated at the breakfast bar. His presence frightened me for just a second. I paused to collect myself before coming into view.

"Nice flowers," he appraised, gesturing to the vase. "From the boyfriend?"

I nodded. "Did you read the card, though?"

He shook his head. "Should I?"

"Go ahead. I don't care."

I opened the refrigerator door and busied myself removing ingredients from the shelves. Tonight I was making chicken. I piled everything I needed into my arms and unloaded the items on the counter as Matthew read the message.

"Wow. That's kind of odd." He returned the card to the envelope and sat back down.

"You think? And I don't even like roses."

"Don't all girls like roses?"

"I'm not like all girls," I said simply.

A smile spread across his features as he watched me work. If it would have been anyone else, especially Eric, I would have felt slighted that he didn't even offer to help me do anything. Instead, he sat back and relaxed while I made everyone dinner. Truth be told, I enjoyed his company. Ever since he had informed me that he was also in management, I felt that we were like kindred spirits. During our previous pre-dinner conversations, he had tried to give me a feeling for what my new position would be like. Even though he worked at a factory instead of a bank, he told me that no matter what industry you were in, the goals of your position were basically the same. And that sometimes there wouldn't be enough money in the world to compensate you for the crap you put up with.

"So what would your flower of choice be, gorgeous?"

I blushed at his term of endearment. I still wasn't used to being called that, even though I couldn't remember him referring to me by anything but since the first day we met. It was always "gorgeous" just like Blake was always "sunshine". I told myself that I was reading too deeply into things, though he could have come up with something less suspicious like "shorty" or "peanut". Thankfully, the oven beeped that it had reached the appropriate temperature, and I was able to spin around to save face. I took my time placing the baking dish inside to cook, then bought myself a couple more seconds by setting the timer.

"Iris," I said once I found my voice.

"Interesting. Very beautiful and unique."

"And not like a whole bunch of them. One, maybe two. Big bouquets are so ostentatious."

"Agreed."

I sat down at the breakfast bar also, intentionally leaving a stool open between us. I had been playing things pretty cool up to this point, at least outwardly. My heart rate had probably doubled since he showed up, and it wasn't because he had frightened me. No need to tempt fate and risk accidentally brushing my leg against his. I had no clue what my reaction would be to that.

"So, how was your first day?" he continued, not phased by the seating arrangement.

I shrugged. "Pretty typical. Overwhelming. The office is a dump and Blake would hate it."

Matthew laughed.

"Blake would hate what?" The lady in question breezed into the kitchen from the garage. "Hey, dork."

"Hey, sunshine. Your roommate was just describing her new workplace."

"I see," she responded, walking over to him to obtain her usual hug. As she exited his embrace, she spied the vase on the table, "Oooh, flowers. Too bad they're roses. So overdone."

"Read the card," I urged, eager to hear her reaction.

She did so, staring for a moment as the words processed. Her lips moved as she reread the lines again and again. "Is this guy serious?"

I snorted. "He's not one to express his emotions."

"Apparently not," she agreed. "So, what's for dinner?"

"I found this new chicken recipe online. Fingers crossed that it turns out."

Blake focused her attention on the oven timer. "Looks like I've got about half an hour to kill. I'm going to go upstairs and work on something real quick. After I get out of these damn shoes."

She disappeared around the corner and Matthew and I were left alone once again. I decided to continue with my recap of the day, including descriptions of my staff. Matthew listened intently. Once I completed this an easy silence fell over us. We stayed quiet for a few moments, then he cleared his throat.

"Does he make you happy?" he asked finally.

My breath hitched. I stared at him blankly, not sure how to answer. I knew what my answer should be, but I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"That's what I thought." He smiled sadly.

"I won't lie and say that everything is perfect," I said shakily, "but he tries. This was a difficult blow for him to take, but we'll figure something out."

Admittedly, that was a pretty sorry defense of the person that I said I loved.

The timer rang, ending any further discussion of the topic. Matthew went to go find Blake, and I busied myself with pulling the chicken out of the oven. It smelled delicious. I had just finished plating everything when the siblings returned. We sat down at the table to eat, awkwardly silent.

"This is really good," Blake said, looking from her brother to me. The gesture confirmed that she was attempting to figure out what had happened in her absence.

"Yeah," Matthew agreed, not looking up from his plate.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

A few more minutes of silence passed. I couldn't take it anymore.

"So," I said as brightly as I could muster, "any Thanksgiving plans?"

Blake shook her head. "Not really. Matthew and I usually just hang out at his place."

"No family meal?" This surprised me immensely. I couldn't imagine a holiday without my father.

"We're not really close," Blake said dismissively. She set her fork down on her plate, stealing another glance at Matthew. When I turned to look at him as well, I saw his expressionless face. Something about the whole conversation made me cringe inside. I was headed into uncomfortable territory, of that I was sure. "How about you, Lauren?"

"It's just me and my dad. Sometimes Eric comes. Maybe we could do something here instead?"

"Maybe. You don't see your mom?"

Well, if we hadn't already been in uncomfortable territory, we certainly were going straight ahead into it now.

"My mom passed away when I was two. She was driving home from work and got hit by a drunk driver."

Blake offered her condolences. Matthew's face turned ashen, and after a momentary pause, he pushed his chair back and rose from the table. Silently, he stalked off towards the living room. I, too, prepared to stand, seriously confused by his actions.

"Let him go," Blake advised, cutting me off at the pass.

I settled back into my chair. So maybe I had put it a little bluntly, but after years of having to explain what had happened, I had grown a little hardened. Really, there was no good way to say it. When coupled with the fact that I had very few actual memories of her, it was easy to become distanced from the entire situation. When I grieved for her, which I certainly did, it was more for the concept of a mother than for her as a person.

My reverie was broken by the front door slamming.

I had seen just about every reaction possible to the news of my mother's death, but that was a new one. I looked over at Blake, trying to read her expression for any clue of what had just happened.

"What did I do wrong?" I asked finally.

Blake sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "It wasn't anything you did, Lauren. It's what Matthew did."

#### Chapter Seven

"I don't understand," I admitted.

Blake rose and began cleaning up the dishes on the table. Her explanation so far had amounted to nothing more than a version of "It's not you, it's me". Reluctantly, I stood and assisted, reaching for Matthew's now abandoned plate. We cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher in silence. Blake was clearly conflicted. As we worked, I imagined she was running through the options in her head, deciding what and how much to tell me. Once the task was completed, she left the room. I wondered if I should follow.

She returned a couple of minutes later, holding a white three ring binder in her hand. She motioned for me to follow her into the living room. I did so, and sat beside her on the couch.

"Promise me something," she began shakily. She clutched the binder to her chest as though it was her lifeline. "Please don't be mad at me. If you want to break your lease, I'll understand. I'll tear it up and give you all your money back."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Blake, I don't know what to say. You're scaring me, honestly. But things are never usually as bad as they seem. So I'll do my best to keep an open mind."

She nodded, handing me the binder. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

The binder felt heavy in my hands. I rested it upon my lap for a moment, willing myself to open it. With a deep breath, I lifted the cover. Beside me, Blake twirled the blue portion of her hair nervously. She winced as I looked down at the first page.

Upon first glance, it was an innocent scrapbook of newspaper clippings. In my nervousness, the headlines and articles blurred together, and I was only able to focus on the pictures. A black and white photo of a teenaged Matthew, clad in a high school football uniform stared back at me. Further down the page was another picture of Matthew, this time dressed in a suit, his expression solemn, his hands folded behind his back. As I looked closer, I realized that he wasn't standing in this awkward position by choice. His wrists were restrained by handcuffs. The gentleman that stood in the background appeared to be a sheriff.

I closed my eyes, willing my vision to clear. When I reopened them, I trained my sight on the headlines. Written in bold black typeface in a large font were the words "Fallen From Grace". I flipped through the pages in the binder, focusing on certain words and phrases in the accompanying articles.

From what I did read, I found out that their father was a prominent attorney in the area. Matthew had been arrested. His college football scholarship had been revoked. He had been sentenced to six months in jail. It was a felony charge.

My head spun. I ran my fingers over the slick pages, wondering why Blake would have put together a binder of all this hurtful information. Scrapbooks were typically full of things to treasure, not nightmares. It made no sense.

I looked up, meeting her gaze. Nowhere had I noticed where the articles had mentioned what exactly he had done. Perhaps she had done that on purpose. Wordlessly, I pleaded for her to continue.

"When we were growing up," she began, "Life was pretty good. We lived in a big house, dad made a lot of money and mom stayed at home. Matthew was on the football team and I was a cheerleader. We were popular and everyone wanted to be like us."

The way she presented this background sounded less like boasting and more like regret.

"His senior year, Matthew got caught drinking and driving. He was obviously underage, and he was arrested. His license got suspended for a while, and he lost his football scholarship. Of course, our parents were pissed off. But it was nothing we couldn't deal with, right?"

Her voice cracked on the last word, and a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. I slid the binder off of my lap, placing it on the table in front of us. I wanted to hear the story from her anyway.

"We weren't really close until about this time in our lives anyway. He was a senior; I was a sophomore. I started dating his best friend, but that's another story. Because of this, we started spending quite a bit of time together. Because he lost the scholarship, our parents refused to pay to send him anywhere but the local college. It wasn't a huge disappointment for him, since that was where his friend was going anyway."

She cleared her throat.

"So fast forward a couple of years. Matthew got a pretty decent job, and he moved out on his own. I was still dating his best friend. We were all going to school together, just kind of hanging out and having fun. Matthew was kind of a player; he dated a lot of girls. At the time, he was dating this chick and things were kind of stormy in their relationship. All four of us went to this party, and things got kind of wild. One of those deals where they take your keys from you as you enter the house. We were all drinking. Matthew and the girl got into this huge fight, and she ended up leaving. He found the keys to his best friend's car and went after her."

I released a breath I didn't realize I had been holding.

"He had no business driving. But we didn't know what to do. I mean, he took my boyfriend's car. We weren't any more sober than he was, and I was underage. Would it have made things better if we ran off after him? I don't know; I wish I did. So we stayed, hoping that he would come back safely. But he never did."

The tears flowed freely now, and I reached over and gave her a hug. After she had composed herself enough to speak, she continued the story.

"He got pulled over and arrested again. Maybe it saved his life, the cop catching him. He didn't get more than a mile from the party. Since it was his second offense, it was a felony and he went to jail. He lost his license for two years."

She laughed, something obviously striking her as being funny.

"You would think that having a lawyer for a father would be a blessing in a situation like this. It was the exact opposite."

She gestured to the binder. "Our dad was persecuted by the press. Add that to the fact that Matthew was obviously at fault, and you get made an example of. Instead of helping him out, my dad let the courts throw the book at him. I'm not saying that he didn't deserve it, but it was rather tough love. Or no love at all. Our dad announced that he no longer had a son."

I shook my head in disbelief. I didn't doubt her version of events, but I couldn't imagine someone being able to disown their child. My father and I had such a strong relationship that I knew no matter what mistakes I made, he would stand by me.

"My mother had to follow suit. My dad supported her; she didn't work outside the home. It really didn't seem to break her heart. But I couldn't walk away from him. I announced that I wouldn't give up on him, and my parents disowned me as well."

She shrugged. "I moved into his place and took care of it while he was gone. Once he was released from jail, I drove him around for the next two years. Ever since, we've been inseparable. And so, that's our big secret."

"I'm so sorry, Blake," I said softly.

She dried her remaining tears and smiled weakly. "And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you right away. You had a right to know and I kept that from you. It's like some sick joke, really. Of all the people that could have answered my ad for a roommate, you gave me a call."

"It wouldn't have changed anything," I said with conviction.

Blake looked shocked. "Really? If I had told you that my brother, who is a convicted felon, spends a lot of time here, you would have just signed the lease and moved right in?"

"Well, after you told me the truth, yes. Not if he was an axe murderer or something."

"According to Matthew, he might as well have killed someone. He's never gotten past it. He's never stopped blaming himself for everything. And he's done the whole counseling thing, but it didn't help with the guilt."

"So that explains why he acted the way he did tonight. He thought that I would hate him because of what happened to my mom."

"He's used to people walking away from him. The only people who have really stood by him are me and his best friend. I mean, he has some work friends and some of the guys on his football team keep in touch a little bit, but he is so guarded. When he does date people, he breaks up with them before they find out."

"I won't walk away. I mean, I've only known you guys for a short period of time, but you already feel like my friends. Maybe I've read too much into it, but I thought that he was comfortable around me."

Blake nodded. "I noticed it, too."

"So what do we do now? Just give him time? I feel like I should talk to him; like I could help make things better."

"I don't know."

I sighed. If only he had stuck around instead of running off. Then I could tell him that the two incidents were completely unrelated. That I didn't blame him for what he had done.

I lifted the binder from the coffee table, opening it and staring at the pages. I pored over the articles, imagining all the pain and agony that everyone had gone through during the ordeal. Blake excused herself, claiming a headache, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

My cell phone caught my eye and I picked it up, turning it over and over in my hand. I wondered if Matthew would talk to me if I called him. My stomach was twisted with worry; I really just needed to know that he was okay, no matter where he was. Blake had implied that everything would blow over in time but I wasn't so sure.

After all, I was the one responsible for his pain.

I stared at his text from this morning. Just hours ago, things had seemed so promising. Instead of calling, I decided to text back.

_Are you okay?_ I typed.

His response came back quickly. _No._

_I'm sorry. We should talk_.

Why? You wouldn't like me if you knew the real me.

I'm pretty sure that I would. Blake and I already talked about...things. I know what happened.

My phone rang not more than two seconds later. I answered without checking the screen.

"Blake told me everything. And it doesn't matter. The arrest, the jail time, nothing," I said quickly, not wanting him to interrupt my train of thought and put his own spin on the conversation.

"Lauren?" Eric's voice crackled on the other end of the line.

Shit.

"Eric? I'm so sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"Apparently so. And it sounds like you were ready for a rather interesting discussion."

"It was just with Blake's brother," I admitted, trying desperately to think of a good reason why I would be expecting his call.

"Oh, really?" Eric sounded very interested to hear this explanation.

"Yeah," I said, grasping at straws, "he's thinking about refinancing his house. He was worried about some, um, things in his past not making him eligible for a loan."

Hey, it was the best I could do in a short amount of time.

"And so you were expecting him to give you a call at ten at night to discuss this?"

"He works weird hours. And I'm salaried now, so a sale is a sale. Duty calls, you know." I giggled, trying to make it sound casual. Instead, it rang a little hysterical even to my ears.

Eric didn't notice, or he was pretending not to care. "I think you need to come home. Don't you care about your safety? I mean, my goodness, your roommate's brother was incarcerated?"

"It was a drunk driving charge, years ago."

"And that makes everything better? What would your dad think of that?"

"Eric, I will be fine. And I don't want to fight with you. So let's just drop this and move on, okay?"

"I don't want to fight with you either. Actually, I was just calling to see how your first day went. Did you get the flowers?"

"Yes," I crossed my fingers behind my back and swallowed, "they are beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked them. And instead of you telling me over the phone about your first week in management, why don't you tell me over dinner on Saturday night?"

A smile spread across my face, even though it meant a drive back to Indianapolis. "Okay."

"Why don't I pick you up about six?"

"You're coming here?"

"Why wouldn't I? My girlfriend's in Fort Wayne, right?"

"You don't know how good that sounds right now. I'll do some research and figure out where we should go. I'll text you my address once we hang up."

"Perfect. Until Saturday, then?"

"I can't wait. I love you, Eric."

"Sweet dreams, Lauren."

The line disconnected, and I quickly sent him my new address. Maybe he wasn't lying when he said that he would figure out how to make this work. He had instigated a road trip to see me without any coercion on my part. For him, that was almost as significant as admitting he was wrong.

My good mood disappeared when I realized that Matthew never responded to my last text.

#### Chapter Eight

I was so busy at work the rest of the week that I barely had time to breathe. Mortgage rates were very favorable, and the applications seemed to be pouring in. I was learning the ins and outs of my position and the personalities of my team members. This was a blessing in more ways than one. Every spare moment I had was spent thinking about either Eric or Matthew.

Eric's upcoming visit filled me with renewed hope that he was serious about continuing our relationship. Deep down, I had had a fear that he would leave me upon my acceptance of the promotion. I had battled with that potential outcome more than I cared to admit to anyone. I had never given him a similar ultimatum at any point; instead I had tried to be as supportive as possible during our college years and thereafter. But my leaving him was a different story altogether. He hadn't taken lightly to it, and I breathed a sigh of relief every time we had a conversation and he didn't end it by saying he wanted to see other people.

I wanted this weekend to be perfect. I had done a fair amount of research into where Eric and I should go for dinner. The obvious choice would have been the Italian restaurant that I had eaten at with Blake and Matthew, but I wanted something over and above the ordinary. Eric had discriminating tastes, and I wanted to impress. I needed to impress if I ever expected him to come back and visit me. Otherwise, I would be the one driving back and forth to see him. I settled on a highly touted restaurant just outside of downtown Fort Wayne. The place had some excellent reviews, and judging by the exorbitant menu prices I viewed online, it would be right down Eric's alley. Even though I could afford someplace like that occasionally, paying that much for a meal had never made sense to me. Perhaps Eric would treat. He would definitely drive. His BMW would be right at home in that parking lot.

I felt like a kid awaiting Christmas. For all of his faults, Eric was the only guy I had ever been with and the only person I had ever loved. He was comforting and calming, even when he was driving me crazy. Part of me didn't know how to function without the turmoil in my life. His presence was a constant, kind of like an old sweatshirt that you kept bringing out of your closet even after you had new clothes to take its place. I was busy creating a new life here, yet I still needed him to feel grounded.

The new life part was going well as long as I was at work.

Matthew hadn't come around since the night all hell had broken loose. He also hadn't called or texted back, though I hadn't exactly opened the lines of communication either. I suspected that Blake was going to his place after work, and I wondered if I had effectively destroyed any hope of a friendship between the three of us. I pleaded with her to tell him to call me, or come over again, or anything for that matter. She responded noncommittally that he would when and if he was ready.

Blake didn't seem mad at me, and for that I was grateful. However, the dynamic in our house had changed. Understandably so. She was going to stand by her brother, and if my presence made him uncomfortable, then she was going to eliminate the problem. I knew she wouldn't ask me to move out, but I felt more like a lessee than a friend at this point. She had her life and I had mine. When she was home she was cordial enough, but she came home late and either went to bed or upstairs to work within minutes.

Even though she had initially indicated an interest in meeting Eric, she informed me that it wouldn't happen during this visit. She had a client meeting during the day on Saturday, and a date with some guy that night. She told me that since Eric would be coming over, she would give us our space and just change at her store. Maybe that was for the best anyway.

Since I had inadvertently told Eric about Matthew's arrests and subsequent jail sentence, he had the upper hand there. The one question that he had posed to me rang very true. What would my father say? I liked to think that he would be open-minded, that he wouldn't hold everything against Matthew, but I really wasn't sure. I wanted to speak with my dad about my dilemma, but I didn't feel right exposing Matthew's not so well kept secret without his knowledge. I wasn't in a position to be asking for permission at this point. I only hoped that I could convince Eric not to share this news with him before I had brought up the subject.

I hadn't mentioned it to Gracie, either. I didn't know how to broach the subject and instead decided to pretend that nothing was wrong. I kept hoping that she would see through my charade, but she didn't. If she would ask me what was wrong I would gladly tell her, but I didn't want to burden her. She did, however, laugh heartily when I told her about the roses. It seemed that everyone knew about my hatred of the blooms except for Eric. I gushed to her about this weekend, and she reluctantly wished me a good time.

When Saturday rolled around, I ended up sleeping in far longer than I was used to. In fact, Blake had already left the house by the time I came downstairs. I checked the time on my cell phone, verifying that I had several hours before Eric was due to show up. Since it was already almost lunchtime, I chose not to spoil my appetite for dinner by eating anything substantial. I grabbed an apple to curb my hunger and went outside to the deck.

The day was shaping up to be picture perfect. The sun was shining, the air had just a bit of a chill to it, and the leaves were beginning to change color. I finished the apple and decided to take a dip in the hot tub before I showered and got dressed. The water was relaxing, and I closed my eyes as the jets bubbled around me, sinking lower and lower until only my head remained above the surface.

I thought of the only other time I had been out here, when Blake and Matthew had sat with me and we had discussed life in general without a care in the world. That seemed so long ago, even though it had only been two weeks' time. I remembered how Matthew's leg had brushed against mine, and how his touch had sent tingles through my entire body. Maybe Eric would be open to coming out here when we got back from dinner. I couldn't remember if I had mentioned the hot tub, or if he would even think to bring swimming trunks if I had. We could always stop somewhere and pick up a pair, I supposed, even though it wasn't exactly the right season to purchase such an item. I wanted to try the experiment with him, to see if the warm water led to a higher sensitivity to touch. If so, I definitely understood why all those reality dating shows included hot tub scenes.

A nagging feeling inside my stomach suggested that I wouldn't receive the intended result.

When I resembled a prune more than a human being, I decided it was time to hop out and go back inside. I had only killed an hour or so, so time was still on my side. Actually, it was dragging. I realized that I didn't much like being alone, especially not in a new place when I was trying to stave off anticipation.

I had gone shopping for a new dress just for this occasion, and I was very proud of my selection. Ironically enough, it was a deep blood red color that matched those roses perfectly. I reminded myself that I looked good in red with my pale skin and dark hair. The dress itself had a halter style bodice and a floating, knee length skirt. A thick black sash crossed the middle, separating the clingy top from the full bottom. I had also found a killer pair of red platform heels to go with it.

Reenergized by the idea of actually getting to wear my purchases, I stepped into the shower and began my transformation. Getting ready was the fun part. I took my time, standing in the shower until the faucet only sprayed lukewarm water, then snuggled into my robe and sat down at the vanity. In a bathroom like this, with the tools of the trade, I imagined that I was some celebrity getting ready for an awards show. I lost myself in the dramatization, spending a good hour and a half on hair and makeup alone. When I slid on my dress and shoes, I nodded at my reflection, sufficiently pleased.

I would take Eric's breath away. Tonight, I looked like the trophy girlfriend, just the kind of girl you expected to hop out of the passenger seat of a BMW and glide across the parking lot of a swanky restaurant. The dress fit perfectly. My hair and makeup was immaculate. I had kept the jewelry to a minimum, choosing to wear only a pair of tiny diamond studs. Satisfied, I walked down the stairs, carrying my shoes. No sense in putting them on now; he wouldn't be coming for another half hour, and my feet hurt just looking at them.

I settled onto the couch, turning on the television to pass the time. I flipped through the channels, nothing catching my eye. Who was I kidding? I was way too excited to be able to entertain myself. I couldn't wait to open the door when he arrived, to see his face, to witness his expression when he saw me again.

My cell phone rang about fifteen minutes before I expected him to show up. Of course it was him; just in case, I had checked the caller ID prior to answering. I smiled to myself, wondering if he had made a wrong turn or if he was just that eager to hear my voice.

"Hey, hon," I greeted.

"Lauren," he began. I noticed immediately that he sounded far away. However, considering he was using Bluetooth, that made sense. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?" My tone was still light, unsuspecting.

"This deal came up, and I need to fly to Arizona tonight. I'm at the airport right now."

My heart sunk to my feet. "And you're just telling me this now?"

"I'm sorry. I promise I'll make this up to you."

"Eric," I struggled to form a coherent thought, dragging out the last syllable of his name as my mind raced, "we had reservations."

Really? That was the only thing I could come up with?

"I know. I know. And I'm sorry. I promise, next time."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

I lowered the phone from my ear, hearing unintelligible words on the other end as I did so. I disconnected the call and shut the phone completely off. At least I had done a little bit to save face. My reservations comeback was weak at best. I tossed the phone onto the couch cushion beside me and buried my face in my hands.

For the longest time, I sat in silence, completely numb. Outside, the sun began to set, casting shadows throughout the interior of the house. I stood to turn on the lamp in the corner, deciding then to change out of my outfit. I made my way up the stairs as if in slow motion, one painful step at a time. The walk of shame.

How long had Eric known about this trip? How many hours ago had he decided to stand me up? Why did he have to be a coward and call me from the airport? Why did he have to be so heartless and cruel?

I shrugged out of my dress as soon as I hit the doorway to my bedroom, letting the fabric pool around my feet. Spitefully, I kicked it over to the corner, intentionally not picking it up. I hated that damn dress, hated it instead of Eric. I grabbed the first thing I could find out of my closet that appealed to me: a pair of ratty sweats, a tank top, and a hooded sweatshirt. I slid them on, feeling as horrible as my clothes looked.

The tears started as soon as I hit the stairs to go back to the couch. Blindly, I navigated my way, tripping over a platform heel in the process. I fell onto the couch, my body convulsing with sobs. I pushed the hood up over my head and curled up in a ball, wanting to make myself as invisible as I felt. I was certainly invisible to Eric.

I was so wrapped up in my sorrow that I didn't hear the Mustang pull in the driveway. I did, however, hear the key turn in the lock. I froze, not sure what I wanted to do. I wondered if I had time to run upstairs and hide in my room. I seriously doubted it. Instead, I chose to stay put, wrapping up into an even tighter version of the fetal position. Maybe if I stayed still and didn't make a sound he wouldn't notice me.

The front door swung open and closed softly behind Matthew as he entered the house. His keys jangled as he shoved them in his pocket. From my position on the couch, I could see only his legs as he moved toward the kitchen. I held my breath, praying that he wouldn't look over and see me. As much as we needed to talk, I didn't want it to be now. His feet hesitated, then spun around.

"Lauren?" he asked.

"What?" I responded harshly. The voice that came out of my lips was unrecognizable, rough and husky from crying. I grabbed at my hood, pulling it farther down my face so it shielded as much as possible. Embarrassed, I shifted so I faced the back of the sofa.

"Are you okay?"

"No."

The cushion beside me sunk down as he sat next to me. Reluctantly, I turned back around.

"I didn't think you would be here. I just came to drop this off." He gestured to the DVD case he was holding. I didn't look to see what the contents were. He slid the container onto the table, then stared straight ahead. "The shoes should have been a clue."

Yes, the red heels that I had tripped over during my descent of the stairs.

"I'm sorry. I should have cleaned up after myself," I said softly.

"No biggie. I didn't run them over or anything. I'm just used to things being so orderly. It was just odd. Out of place, you know?"

This wasn't going so badly. Perhaps we could have an entire conversation without him looking at me. I could pretend everything was okay, then he could go home. The awkwardness could be attributed to how he had left the other night, and everything would be fine.

"Blake's out on a date tonight," I babbled. "I'll let her know that you stopped by."

"Wasn't the boyfriend coming over tonight?" he asked suddenly, as if he'd just remembered.

Blake had been discussing things with her brother, after all.

I choked back a sob. New tears slid quietly down my cheeks. Matthew reached over and pulled my arm away from my face. Our eyes met, one tortured soul staring back at another.

He reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone. He dialed a number, probably a saved contact and waited briefly for the person to answer. I hoped it wasn't Blake. Since he was so close, I couldn't help but overhear his side of the conversation.

"Hey, man, it's me. Something came up, so I can't make it tonight." A pause. "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll catch you later." Finished, he hung up.

From the greeting, it was obviously a friend and not his sister. Plus, guys didn't exactly hold marathon phone conversations.

"You had plans?" I asked, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"So did you. And now we don't." He shrugged.

"You don't have to do that. I'll be fine."

"You don't look like you'll be fine."

Heat rose to my cheeks. I could only imagine what my tearstained face looked like. I was certain it was streaked with mascara and eyeliner and horribly unattractive. "I suppose I could use a tissue."

A small smile formed on his lips. "I don't think a tissue would help at this point. Stay here."

He rose from the couch and took off down the hall. He returned with a washcloth and a towel from the half bath. The washcloth was wet and had been wrung out. I sat up and reached for them. He shook his head.

"No, let me," he whispered.

I nodded, not sure what else to do. The thought of him being so close to me, of him touching me, made me dizzy.

Slowly, he lowered the hood to my shoulders. His fingers brushed my hair away from my face, smoothing the longer pieces behind my ears. His eyes never left mine, his gaze burning into me. He lifted the washcloth to my face. Instinctively, my eyelids fluttered shut. Gently, almost reverently, he pressed the soft cotton to my skin, removing all traces of my formerly exquisite makeup job.

I held my breath for as long as possible, taking in shallow, ragged portions of air when I couldn't stand it any longer. My heart was pounding, the blood rushing frantically through my veins. Fresh tears threatened to spill from my still closed eyes.

Matthew raised the towel now, gently patting me dry. When I sensed he was done, I forced my eyes open. Those blue eyes still studied me intently. He wrapped the washcloth in the towel and dropped them both to the floor, never looking away from me. His hand reached for my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw.

"You are so beautiful."

That comment was more than enough to trigger the waterworks. He brushed away my tears with his fingers, tipping my chin up so I looked him straight in the eye.

"Don't cry for him. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve you."

My body shook with sobs. Matthew pulled me against him, embracing me with his strong arms. He leaned back against the couch, extending his long frame over the cushions. He positioned me so that my head rested against his chest. He rubbed my back in a circular motion, making small loops across my spine with his fingers. His other hand raked leisurely through my hair.

We laid in silence for the longest time. I allowed my eyes to close, still feeling his unmistakable presence all around me. The scent of his soap filled my nose. The warmth of his skin was apparent even through my clothes. His chest rose and fell with each breath, gently moving against my cheek. I listened to the cadence of his heart.

The tears subsided, and before I knew it I had drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

#### Chapter Nine

I awoke in my own bed. Disoriented, I sat up and immediately wished that I hadn't. My head pounded from a combination of sobbing and lack of food. The blinds were drawn, leaving the room awash in shadows and darkness. I had no idea what time it was or how I had gotten here. I was, however, fully clothed. Even my hooded sweatshirt remained intact, zipped modestly over my tank.

I reached blindly for my nightstand, flipping on the lamp once I had located it. The light hurt my eyes. I squeezed my eyelids shut, reopening them in baby steps. I imagined this was what a hangover felt like. I had no personal experience with which to compare. How ironic.

As my vision cleared, I vaguely remembered hearing voices. Undoubtedly those of Blake and Matthew. She had come home from her date and he had still been with me on the couch. They had spoken in hushed tones, obviously discussing how Eric had stood me up. Then I had felt weightless, like I was floating. I realized that Matthew had carried me up the stairs and tucked me under the comforter.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. Even though technically nothing had happened between us, we had spent quite an intimate evening together. Never before had I exposed myself to someone like that, especially not someone I had just met. Granted, he had caught me at one of my most vulnerable moments. It was hard to pretend that everything was okay when tears were streaming down your face. When Eric upset me, my usual defense was to hide behind anger, even around Gracie. For some reason this time the floodgates had opened and Matthew was on the receiving end. Instead of turning and running away, which I would have totally understood, he had canceled his plans and stayed with me.

With all that remained unsaid between us, he had sat beside me, holding me as I cried. For all he knew, I could absolutely hate him because of his past. But he hadn't given me the third degree about my opinions. Instinctively, he had settled down next to me, offering his shoulder to cry on. No one had ever done anything that kind for me before.

My eyes slid to the nightstand again, noticing that he had brought up my cell phone. More importantly, he had set a full bottle of aspirin and a glass of water beside it. I uncapped the bottle, shook out two tablets, and swallowed them quickly. I prayed that relief would come soon. I doubted there was anything that I could have done to deserve this pain.

Shakily, I rose from the mattress and went into the bathroom. My reflection was hideous. My eyes were swollen and rimmed with red, dark circles underneath. My hair stood straight up in random tufts. I wondered what Matthew had seen when he said I was beautiful. I hoped it wasn't this.

I decided to take a shower in hopes that it would make me feel better. I turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was nearly scalding hot. The droplets stung my skin when I first stepped in, but my body quickly adjusted to the heat. I imagined my pain and worries washing down the drain along with all the suds, wishing it was truly that easy.

When I was finished, I dried off and went in search of another stylish ensemble to wear for my pity party. Again, I settled on sweats, but this time with a tight fitting t-shirt on top. As I slid on my selections, I noticed that the red dress was missing from the floor. On a hunch, I went to my closet. Sure enough, the offending article hung neatly in front, staring innocently back at me. The platform shoes that matched were displayed directly underneath.

Fresh tears threatened to spill down my cheeks. The last time this dress hung here, I had gazed up at it with anticipation. Now it was a reminder of an evening gone horribly wrong. I brushed my fingers across the full skirt. Too bad Blake and I weren't the same size. Even though it was beautiful, I doubted I could stomach wearing it now. I thought of Matthew, carefully lifting it off the floor and putting it in its proper place. Trying his hardest to clean up my mess.

With a sigh, I grabbed my cell off the nightstand and powered it on. No time like the present to face reality. Once it loaded to the home screen, I learned that it was now ten in the morning. This shocked me. No wonder my head hurt; it had been nearly twenty-four hours since I had eaten that apple. So much for gorging at the restaurant.

Not as surprising was the fact that my phone now contained a barrage of voice mails and texts from Eric. In our ten years together, I couldn't remember ever hanging up on him before. I had either convinced him that I was really pissed, or I had made him very mad. Perhaps a little of both.

I decided to listen to the voice mails first. Eric did sound angry in the first couple, proclaiming that his career was important and that these were crucial accounts he was flying out to settle. He told me that unpredictability was part of the job and that I should understand that by now. He admonished me for playing the career card to go out and follow my dreams but to not give him the same respect.

Just as I was about to delete the remaining messages without listening, the fourth or fifth startled me with his change in tone. This series sounded sincere, almost remorseful. The anger had subsided, and he spoke quietly, solemnly. He apologized and swore he would make it up to me. I imagined I should be expecting another huge bouquet of flowers shortly.

The string of texts were all sent after the voice mails, begging me to talk to him. Asking for my forgiveness. Never telling me he loved me. I deleted all of them.

My indicator light still blinked even after I cleared all of Eric's many messages. It was then I noticed that Matthew had also texted me. At three thirty-eight this morning.

Goodnight, sweetheart.

My breath hitched. I stood frozen in place staring at the display. My hand trembled, nearly causing me to drop the phone. I lowered myself to the mattress, head spinning.

I assumed the text had come through shortly after he had left the house. For all intents and purposes, he had spent the night here. Instead of slipping out unnoticed, he had made sure I knew he had gone home. As if he was showing me that not everyone in my life would abandon me. Again with the terms of endearment that made my pulse quicken.

My growling stomach brought me back to reality. I took a couple deep calming breaths, willing my heartbeat to regulate. When I felt I could successfully navigate the stairs, I rose from the bed. The pain still throbbed in my head, slightly lessened by the effects of the aspirin, but it was tolerable. I clutched the handrail on my way down, feeling rather wobbly.

As I passed by the kitchen table, I noticed that the bouquet of roses Eric had sent was missing. Matthew sure did think of everything. I was certain that if I looked in the trashcan, I would find the blooms there, vase and all.

Blake was already up and moving about the kitchen. She looked in way better condition than I was. She was wearing pajama pants and a spaghetti strapped tank, her long hair piled atop her head in a messy bun. Even bare-faced, she appeared as if she could walk a runway at a moment's notice.

"Hey, the dead has risen," she announced to no one in particular.

"Good morning to you, too," I said, my tone suggesting anything but.

Blake slid a plate of scrambled eggs across the breakfast bar and motioned for me to sit down.

"You don't cook," I said warily, lifting my fork and examining the eggs. Surprisingly, they looked edible enough.

"They're eggs. I can handle those. I figured you'd be starving."

She glanced knowingly at me. Her face was full of concern, but she lowered her eyes. She had no intention of prying, or at least not until I had a few cups of coffee in me. As if on cue, she pushed a steaming mug in front of me.

I ate, surprised by the appetite I had. Within minutes, the plate was clean and I was working on my second cup of coffee. Blake stood across from me the entire time, happily serving me. I imagined that she had already eaten long ago, judging from the late hour. In this context, her perkiness also made sense. She was probably functioning on five or six hours of sleep. Not too amazing, considering she was minus my broken heart.

"How was your date last night?" I asked, purposefully directing the conversation towards her. Anything to stall the inevitable.

She took my empty plate and placed it in the dishwasher with a shrug. "Okay, I guess."

"You don't have to downplay it because of me. I won't think you're gloating."

"No, really, it was just okay. I worked at the shop until about seven or so. Then I met the guy for dinner at eight. We went to a movie and then back to his place for awhile."

My eyebrow raised. Doing the calculations in my head, I understood that going home with the guy had occurred either very late last night or early this morning. There was no need to press for further details. As my father would say, if you were just getting to someone's place at that time of night, you were pretty much there for one thing only.

"Are you going to see him again?"

"Probably not."

While she seemed unphased, I practically had to pick my jaw back up from the counter. I couldn't imagine that kind of lifestyle, to give myself in that way with no commitment whatsoever. Of course, my experiences were clouded by being only with Eric from the tender age of sixteen on. Hell, I got flustered when Matthew called me "gorgeous" or "sweetheart". I was practically a prude. Blake, on the other hand, likely got hit on all the time.

"Is our Blake a player?" I winked, feeling a small glimmer of amusement. I latched onto it, the first ray of sunshine I had seen in a long time. I needed a distraction.

"Your Blake isn't going to settle down until she's positive she has found the right guy. Until then, there's nothing wrong with having fun with some of the wrong ones."

She laughed, though it sounded a bit hollow. She grabbed the coffee pot and refilled my cup.

Slowly, I was beginning to feel alive. The food, the caffeine and the aspirin were working in tandem and only a dull roar of a headache remained. I remembered that she, too, had dated someone exclusively for about three or four years. She had mentioned it was a long story, and didn't seem at all interested in filling me in. Things must have been ugly. I wondered if maybe we could commiserate. In due time, I hoped we could. She might be able to provide me with much needed insight.

"You know, you could have called me," she said softly.

I shook my head. "No need to ruin both of our nights."

She reached out and took my hand. "I wouldn't have been mad. I want us to be friends. And if you want to talk about it, I'm all ears."

I managed a smile. "I don't want to be a bother."

"You'll never be a bother, Lauren. If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty loyal to those I care about. And for whatever reason, you decided that even though I'm messed up, you're not going to move out. I respect that."

"Everyone is messed up in their own way. I'm no different."

We moved into the living room and took a seat on what was quickly becoming the sofa of difficult situations. Blake perched on one end, curling her long legs underneath her. I took the opposite end, my feet planted firmly on the ground.

"So, has he called you yet?" she began.

I blinked, unsure of who she was referring to.

"Eric," she clarified.

"Only about fifteen times or so."

"Have you talked to him?"

"No."

"Serves him right."

I snorted. "He's not used to me hanging up on him."

"I'm proud of you. The only thing that would have been better is if you would have kept your reservation and found someone else to go with. Get a full meal, appetizers, drinks, the most expensive entrée, dessert and then send him the bill."

"You sound like you've done that before."

She smirked.

"I was in no condition to go out anyway," I admitted, "but I'll keep it in mind for the next time he ditches me."

"This happens a lot?"

I sighed. "Not this exactly. Just last month, I lived in Indy. I was local, and it wasn't two hours of driving one way to come see me. I could go see him for an hour or so if I wanted. Sometimes, he would just stop over at my place. But most of the time, I drove to his. Going to dinner wasn't a special occasion. He really does work hard, and he gets called away quite a bit. Unexpectedly at times."

"So unexpectedly that he didn't have an opportunity to call you before he got to the airport?"

"I know his timing was bad. Maybe he was afraid of hurting me. Maybe he was trying to think of the right thing to say."

"Lauren, he hurt you by doing what he did. I'm almost positive he knew about the trip Saturday morning, if not Friday night. He should have been a man and called you then."

"You're right. But this whole thing is new for us and we just need some time to adjust. He promised me that we would make this work."

"He also promised you he'd come and visit."

I stared down at my hands. Blake was right. Eric had been at fault, and here I was defending him.

"He did tell me he was sorry," I said softly.

"Good. He should be. Don't let him off so easy. He needs to earn his way back into your good graces. From what I heard, you were practically inconsolable last night."

I blushed. This is why I did angry instead of vulnerable. Anger faded with time, and everyone understood that. When you let go of your anger, you looked like the bigger person, able to forgive and forget. When you showed emotion and sensitivity, people looked at you as if you were caving in when you continued forward like nothing happened. Blake was clearly in the latter category.

"It's okay, sweetie; don't be embarrassed. You shouldn't have been alone last night, and since I wasn't here, my brother's the next best thing. I'm glad that he stayed with you until I got home."

I had a feeling I knew exactly when that was, but I felt the need to confirm. "How late was he here?"

"He took off about three thirty this morning. You were both asleep when I got here. We talked for a little while and then he carried you up to bed."

I nodded. Exactly how I had pictured it.

"Did you guys talk about other things, too?"

"No. We didn't really say much. I wasn't feeling much like talking, but I know we need to."

"Agreed. I'd hate to see him push you away because of everything that's gone on in your pasts. I think the two of you could have a great friendship. You seemed pretty cozy with each other last night."

I could only imagine. Blake didn't see upset by the fact that I had fallen asleep on top of her brother, wrapped in his embrace. I sincerely doubted that he had moved out from under me once I had drifted off.

"I brought it up the night that you told me everything, but we never finished the conversation."

"Really?" Blake shifted on the cushion, settling in for a good story.

"He didn't tell you?"

"We are close, but we don't share absolutely everything. And, no, he didn't."

"I texted him. I was worried about him; the way he stormed out of here. I told him that we needed to talk about things, that I knew what happened. And then Eric called and interrupted. Matthew never answered me. Last night was the first I saw or heard from him since. My hysteric sobbing probably clued him in to the fact it wasn't an appropriate time to discuss."

"Well, you should sooner rather than later."

"I know. Especially since I accidentally told Eric all about it that night."

I thought Blake's eyes would pop out of her head. "You what?"

"When Eric called, I thought he was Matthew because we were in the middle of texting. I didn't look before I answered. I blurted everything out. I feel really guilty about it."

Blake shrugged. "Probably not the best technique, but he would have found out about it anyway. Eric seems pretty smart. He could just look everything up on the internet. It's all out there."

"Still, I should have been more careful. I didn't need to add any fuel to the fire. I'm surprised Eric didn't drive up here immediately and pack all my stuff himself."

"It pisses him off, right?" She smiled evilly.

"He told me I need to be careful."

"Good advice for any situation. But I hardly think you need to fear my brother."

"He was anything but scary last night," I said under my breath.

Blake heard my comment. "Lauren, are you attracted to my brother?"

"I have a boyfriend."

"Not what I asked."

"What you asked is irrelevant because I have a boyfriend."

"Hah. I knew it."

"Blake," I nearly whined, "I have Eric. Just because I admit that your brother is cute doesn't mean that anything will ever happen between us. I hope we can be friends; that's all. That's all that ever will be."

There was no way I was going to tell her about this morning's text. She would read way too much into that. I was reading way too much into that. I wasn't even sure why I hadn't deleted it yet. If and when Eric and I ever saw each other again, if he read it, he would be beyond mad. I doubted that he would be conniving enough to snoop through my phone, but I wasn't entirely sure.

I wasn't entirely sure of anything anymore.

#### Chapter Ten

Sure enough, another bouquet of roses was delivered to my office Monday morning at a little after nine in the morning. I saw the way the women stared at me in awe; I vowed that I would not make this a weekly occurrence. Instead of working in their shadow for the rest of the day, I promptly removed the card from Eric, then transported them into the breakroom for everyone to share. I might as well not waste them like the last bunch. At least this way, someone might enjoy them.

It was time to end the silent treatment. I was satisfied that I had made him suffer since the hang up on Saturday evening, so I texted him thanks for the flowers. I didn't have to let him know where they ended up. Relieved, he responded immediately, again professing his remorse. He also invited me down for the weekend, promising that he was one hundred percent sure he wouldn't be working. I quickly accepted even though it meant two hours in the car for me.

That was the way we operated; hot and cold, passionate and chilly. This was my normal. The move had amplified the tension tenfold, but the core of the relationship remained. I knew Blake would shake her head at me. Probably Matthew at this point, too, but they didn't understand. Eric and I were going to make this work, come hell or high water. I didn't fail at anything.

Another thing I wouldn't fail at was merging my two worlds together. Over the course of Sunday, with Blake's help, I tentatively began planning a Thanksgiving Day get together in Fort Wayne. All I had to do was convince everyone to show up. My dad would come, no questions asked. I would also invite Gracie, though I wasn't sure if she was already busy. If she couldn't make it, no harm, no foul. Eric would be the tough one to persuade. All I had to do was just get him here. Once he could see that I had a nice place to stay and good friends here, maybe he would be more at peace with my decision.

Matthew was also a wild card. I knew I had to smooth things over with him first, especially since he felt such obvious guilt about my mother dying at the hands of another drunk driver. Once that was accomplished and I had obtained his blessing, I needed to focus on my dad. My plan was to talk to my father at some point prior to the holiday and fill him in on everything. Then, when the two of them met, Matthew might feel better about himself as he came to the conclusion that my father wasn't upset with him over what he had done. Even though Eric expressed doubt that this would be the case, he was historically pessimistic. I couldn't imagine my father hating Matthew for making a mistake in his youth, even if it was an ironic one as far as we were concerned.

Blake suggested that we hold the dinner at Matthew's house. This would serve two purposes: one, he would have to show up, and two, his home was in her opinion better suited for entertaining. Since I was the one who would be cooking, she appealed to my senses by describing his gourmet kitchen with double ovens. I practically salivated, then realized that such appointments were lost on someone who lived a bachelor's life. She stated that he had a formal dining room in his house which contained an impressive table that seated eight comfortably. I took her word for it; she used to live there. She promised to take me over there soon to get accustomed to the place. That way I wouldn't have to be nervous, trying to impress people in unfamiliar surroundings. Instead, I would merely be nervous because I wanted everyone to get along.

Together, we would bring this plan to fruition. All I needed to do was set the stage, then cook a ton of food. Blake would follow behind, wrapping up loose ends. With her at my side, those loose ends would be tied up in a nice, neat designer bow. Something fitting of a magazine spread.

Blake's car was already in the garage when I pulled in. I had stayed a little later than usual at work, wrapping up some things after the rest of my staff had gone home. I was finally getting a handle on my position and was learning my team's strengths and weaknesses. This week I planned on sitting down with each of them one on one to discuss how they complemented one another and how I planned to utilize them in the future. I hoped I would receive an enthusiastic response. So far, so good. The group all seemed to get along with each other, and they had accepted me as well as could be expected.

Blake hadn't been home for long, or else she was just stalling so that she wouldn't have to feel obliged to begin the dinner preparations. The kitchen was empty, and I could hear the shower running in her bedroom. Laughing to myself, I turned on the oven and went to change while it preheated.

I returned to the still deserted kitchen and gathered my ingredients. Tonight was homemade macaroni and cheese. I had no clue if Matthew would be joining us tonight, so my course of action was to make a batch large enough for the three of us. If he didn't make an appearance, I could throw the leftovers in a plastic bowl and take it to work for lunch. I could pretend that I planned it that way, and take care to hide my disappointment. Blake would never be the wiser.

With each passing minute, my hope of seeing Matthew today diminished. I had made it completely through the process of getting the dish into the oven. Blake still hadn't appeared from her bedroom. I caught myself pacing the floor, staring at the digital kitchen timer as the seconds ticked off. I was practically beside myself by the time she strolled into the kitchen.

She was not dressed for an evening in. The sapphire blue dress she wore fit like it was made for her. Strapless and floor length, it clung to her curves in the classiest of ways. A deep slit revealed a shapely leg wearing a silver strappy sandal with a stiletto heel. Her blond waves spilled over her shoulders, the blue streak a striking contrast.

I stared at her quizzically, trying to remember if she had mentioned a date tonight. I didn't think so. In any regard, it looked as though I would have plenty of food left tonight. I wouldn't need to buy lunch for a week.

"There's a charity auction tonight," she explained without me asking, "I'll be home late."

"Okay," I said, resigning myself to the fact I would be dining alone.

"Don't worry," she said, placing her hand on my shoulder, "he's running late. He'll be here. The two of you need to talk anyway."

With that, she exited through the door to the garage. I heard the Miata start and the garage door close behind her as she left. Shortly after, the oven timer signaled that the food was ready. Grabbing an oven mitt and a cooling rack, I took the dish out of the oven and set it on the counter.

So according to Blake he was coming. I still only removed one plate from the cabinet, thinking that pulling another place setting out would look too presumptuous. After all he had yet to show, and provided he did, he knew where all the dishes were. I spooned myself out a generous helping of macaroni and sat down at the breakfast bar to contemplate things. My fork shook in my hand as I lifted it to take a bite.

I managed to get about half of my macaroni down before I heard the now familiar rumble of the Mustang's engine. It was all I could do not to spring from my seat and run to the door. Instead, I remained glued to my stool. As the key turned in the lock, I lifted my fork and kept eating as calmly as I possibly could.

Matthew made a beeline for the kitchen. I did have to admit that the smells wafting through the house were quite inviting. There would be no doubt that dinner had been already served.

"Hey, gorgeous," he greeted, smiling broadly as he passed.

"Hey, yourself," I replied, hoping my voice sounded casual.

He pulled open the cabinet door and grabbed himself a plate. Just like I assumed, he knew where absolutely everything was. I watched him as he served himself, piling a sizable portion onto his plate. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and sat down beside me. Due to the positioning of the bar stools, our knees were dangerously close to touching. He didn't seem to notice, and I was having a hard time remembering why I cared.

"Good day at work?" he asked between bites.

"I guess so."

"No apology flowers from the boyfriend?"

"I put them in the breakroom at work."

He laughed, which was a beautiful sound. "Roses again?"

"Of course."

He finished eating, then stood to take his plate to the dishwasher. As he rose, his knee brushed mine ever so slightly. I shivered noticeably at the contact. As he walked by me, he collected my empty plate as well. The irony of the situation was not lost on me. We were the ones playing house as we casually discussed how my boyfriend had tried to appease for his actions.

"Did you know about Blake's dinner thing tonight?" he asked as he rinsed off the dishes.

"No. Not at all. You think she's making it up?"

"I'm not sure. Doesn't it seem a little convenient?"

"If so, she went to some pretty elaborate lengths to set us up. She walked out of here dressed like a million bucks. It would be pretty hard to go kill some time at the mall in that outfit. Or those shoes."

Another laugh. "When my sister gets an idea in her head, nothing can stop her."

"Well, then, shouldn't we honor her wishes?"

A small smile formed on his face. He quickly loaded the dishwasher and followed me to the living room. We sat together on the couch, side by side, nearly touching. Once again I was reminded of how good soap could smell. The proximity to one another was encouraging. Perhaps I could convince him that I wasn't upset with him and talk him into Thanksgiving dinner all at once.

"So, you've forgiven him?"

If that wasn't a leading question, I didn't know what was. Maybe this wouldn't be easy after all. I sighed deeply, stalling as I tried to gauge his tone. I had to tell him the truth. There was no sense in lying since he would surely notice my absence this weekend.

"I guess I have. At least I've gotten over it, for the most part. I ignored him all weekend. Once he sent the flowers this morning, I decided to be the bigger person and text him. I'm going down to Indy for the weekend. He promised me no work."

"And you believe him?"

"I seriously doubt he'd do the same thing twice in a row. Besides, I have a key to his place. If he ditches me, I'll just trash his condo and go out with my friends." I smiled wickedly.

"Promise me that you'll call me if you do trash his place. I'd be glad to come down and help. It kind of sounds like fun."

"He's really not that bad. I was just upset on Saturday because he waited until the last minute to bail on me. I'm sorry that you had to deal with it. I hope you didn't miss out on anything important; I know you canceled your plans."

"Don't worry about it. I wasn't going to leave you alone like that. And I canceled on my best friend. It's not like he'll never forgive me for it."

I remembered back to Blake's description of her ex. I was pretty sure that guy and the friend that Matthew called on Saturday night were one and the same. I wondered if I should press the issue. I quickly decided to bite my tongue and keep quiet. There was no reason, other than my own curiosity, to ask about this mystery man. If Blake wanted to tell me, she would. Likewise for Matthew.

"Thanks for staying with me. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"You were exhausted. You don't need to apologize. I ended up falling asleep, too."

"Yeah, Blake told me on Sunday. I bet she was surprised when she came back home."

He shrugged. "Blake's seen lots of things. She doesn't shock easily."

I smiled sadly. "At any rate, I appreciate what you did. It amazes me that someone like you is still single."

"Not everyone is as open-minded as you are. And I could turn the tables on you and say that I can't believe anyone whose boyfriend ditches her is still with him."

"Point well taken."

Slightly embarrassed, l looked down at my hands. I turned them over and over in my lap. Matthew reached over and placed his hand over them, effectively stopping their movement.

"I'm not one to be judging others," he said softly.

His hand remained on mine. My heart accelerated; I had to force myself to breathe. His skin burnt mine in the most pleasurable of ways. My cheeks flushed with color. I wondered if the electricity I felt passed into his body as well. I knew that I should pull my hand away, but it was frozen in place. Instead, I stared ahead until my vision blurred.

"I can't imagine what you went through," I breathed. I doubted I could have spoken louder even if I had tried.

"Due to my own stupidity. I don't deserve any sympathy."

"It doesn't make you a bad person. Everyone makes mistakes."

"But I could have hurt someone. Or even killed someone. You don't need me to explain that to you; you lived it."

"It's ancient history, Matthew. And it's not your fault. I won't blame you for something someone else did twenty-four years ago. You don't have to repent for every drunk driver who ever walked the earth."

"My own parents hate me, Lauren. Why don't you?"

"Because you have been nothing but kind to me, even before we realized that there might be a problem. Your kindness isn't an act. You are a wonderful person, and anyone who doesn't see that is an idiot."

It wasn't the most intelligently worded explanation ever, but I had made my point.

"Don't you ever get mad about it? Or wonder why it happened to you? To your dad?"

"I'd be lying if I said I never had those days where I felt like the world was out to get me. But everyone does, even those people who haven't gone through the kind of stuff we have. To be honest with you, I had a pretty good childhood. My father is an excellent parent. I'm really lucky in that regard."

He nodded. "Yes, you are. I mean, I've never met the guy, but anyone that can raise a daughter like you deserves to be commended."

Here was my chance. He had provided me with the perfect lead-in to tell him about my plans for Thanksgiving. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, slowly releasing my breath.

"I think you should meet him," I began.

His hand, still perched on top of mine, tensed immediately. Instinctively, I withdrew mine and switched positions, squeezing his in the process. I rubbed the palm of his hand with my thumb absentmindedly as I paused to let my words sink in.

"You know," I continued, "before we found all of this stuff out about each other, I wanted to get everyone together for Thanksgiving. Sort of a way to introduce everyone in my life to each other. I thought that maybe that would make things easier to swallow for some people. To at least be able to be in the same room with one another; you know, to put a face with a name. Now, I think everybody meeting up is more important than ever."

Matthew was silent for a long time. I continued rubbing his palm, enjoying the feeling of his skin beneath mine. The electricity was still there, only now more of a minor shock instead of the initial jolt. He didn't recoil from my touch, instead choosing to stare ahead blankly. His eyes closed in an attempt to clear his mind. He took several deep breaths to calm himself before speaking.

"I don't know," he said finally. He looked so conflicted, so filled with pain that it twisted my stomach.

"Not everyone is like your parents," I pressed on, very aware that I may be overstepping my bounds. "You can't let that hold you back forever."

"As interesting as it sounds, discussing my incarceration is not an appropriate Thanksgiving dinner topic. And it doesn't exactly win over new friends or acquaintances."

"I didn't mean it like that," I said defensively, "I just think that if you met some more people who weren't judgmental about it, you would have an easier time coming to terms with it."

"And how so? Are you going to introduce me as your roommate's brother slash ex-felon? Or are we not going to mention it until the end of the evening? You know, maybe lie to everyone and then pull out the shocking revelation. See, even drunks can have intelligent conversations and be nice people?"

My eyes burned with tears. I was the one who broke contact, pulling my hand away like it was on fire. Matthew removed his hand from my leg, running it through his messy hair. I wiped away the unwanted moisture with the back of my hand. This was not going how I had intended. I wished that Blake was here. I was certain that she would know the right way to diffuse the situation.

"I wanted to talk to my dad about you beforehand. You wouldn't have to tell him anything. He would already know when he met you. I wanted to help prove to you that not everyone hates you for what you've done."

"Too late. I already hate myself. I don't understand anyone who doesn't. Not Blake. Not my best friend. Not you."

"Oh, Matthew," I breathed, "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. "For what?"

"For what happened to you."

"For what I did to myself? Don't be. It's not up to you to make it better. It will never be better. I will have to live with what I have done forever."

"True. But it doesn't have to define who you are, either. Even knowing what I know now, when I look at you, I don't see that picture of you in the paper where you're being led away in handcuffs. I just see you. Honestly, when you look at me, do you think about my mom dying when I was two? Do you try to imagine what I looked like as a toddler, or do you just see me?"

"I see you," he said softly.

"Exactly. If you are not willing to put things behind you, how can you expect anyone else to? You have to move on. You paid for what you did. Yes, it was stupid on your part. But it could have been a whole lot worse. And you came out on the other side of it. You have so many good things going for you, but you lose sight of all that. Yes, some people are not going to like you for your past. But others will."

"Lightning doesn't tend to strike twice in the same place. What makes you think your dad will like me?"

"Let's see. I've known him my whole life maybe? I think it would be therapeutic to talk to him. If you can connect with him, of all people, then maybe you can get past this. I'm not saying you have to forget it, but at least attempt to forgive yourself."

His hand ran through his hair again, a nervous reaction for sure. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he contemplated my proposal.

"Fine," he said finally, "I will meet your dad, and the boyfriend, and whoever else you want to parade in front of me. But you have to tell them ahead of time and not pressure them into coming if they don't want to."

"Good. I might have already told Eric."

"You told the boyfriend?" he asked incredulously. Thankfully, he didn't seem mad.

I still looked up at him guiltily. "I'm sorry. It was the night that Blake told me. You and I had just texted a couple times. Eric called right after, and I answered the phone, thinking it was you. I rattled off this long tirade about how your arrests didn't matter to me before I realized who it was on the other end."

He snorted. "And how did that go?"

"I had a bit of explaining to do. After the initial shock of it had worn off, though, I think he's okay. But if he mentions you refinancing your house, just go along with it."

"Oh, great. The boyfriend's really going to love me now."

I doubted that there was any real chance of that ever happening. However, I chose to keep this sentiment to myself.

#### Chapter Eleven

Friday afternoon seemed to drag even more so than normal. The eagerness to get the weekend started was shared by my staff. Even though we were still swamped with a record number of mortgage applications, time stood still. I kept having to reread entire paragraphs of emails, finding I had reached the end of them without comprehending any meaning. About four-thirty, I conceded defeat and called my team into my office for an informal meeting. Once the door had been shut, we accomplished nothing but chatting about our upcoming weekend plans. This effectively killed fifteen minutes of time, allowing them the opportunity to return to their desks to wrap up any loose ends.

At five, I pushed back my chair and rose from my desk. I had brought a change of clothes in with me, and retreated to the ladies room to get dressed. A couple people looked twice at me, shocked that I was leaving with everyone else. In the few short weeks that I had been employed at this location, I had earned the reputation of burning the midnight oil. I was more than entitled to duck out at a traditional quitting time once in a while.

Knowing that Eric would be dressed in his ever present uniform of khakis and a polo shirt, I had selected a pair of dark black jeans and a light gray, cable knit sweater. Good for traveling, since I still had a two hour drive ahead of me; maybe more depending on traffic. I would still look presentable when I showed up at his door.

We had texted each other this morning to finalize details of my arrival. Due to the late hour of me getting there, we had agreed that we wouldn't go out tonight. Instead, we'd have dinner at his place and relax. There would be time for sightseeing and going out Saturday and early Sunday. How ironic that I would be like a tourist in my own hometown.

As I made the drive to downtown Indianapolis, I rehearsed in my mind how I wanted to approach Eric's Thanksgiving dinner invitation. I hadn't yet spoken to him about it; I figured that I would be better off doing it in person. Since he already knew of Matthew's legal troubles, I wouldn't have to share that part of the story with him. I may, however, have to do a little to smooth things over.

My conversation with my father had gone quite well. Even though I had outwardly expressed my confidence at his being accepting of my new friend, inside I had harbored a small amount of doubt. My father didn't speak about the accident much; whether that was from time being able to heal the majority of his wounds or because it still hurt too much, I wasn't certain. Obviously, his connection to my mother had been of a completely different intensity than mine. I couldn't imagine losing Eric the way he had lost her. I doubted I would ever be the same.

With trepidation, I had described Matthew's past. A couple times I had asked if he was still on the other end; he was so silent. Once I had finished my recap of events, he had taken a deep breath and confirmed his beliefs were very similar to my own. He had graciously accepted my invitation to dinner, expressing his excitement at seeing my new home. I had demurred at that point, not sure if dinner would really be held at Blake's. She was fairly adamant about having the event at Matthew's and I hadn't felt confident enough to broach that subject with him. I would leave that to her. I promised to give him a call closer to the date and give him the address and driving directions. This worked out in more than one way: first, I could bide my time and wait for Blake to set up everything with her brother and second, I had absolutely no clue where Matthew lived anyway. As of yet, I had never ventured to his home. I only knew that it wasn't that far away from Blake's.

I still had a hard time referring to Blake's house as my place. It just seemed wrong, like I shouldn't profess ownership of something that wasn't really mine. All I did was rent a room there. Renting in someone else's home was completely different than leasing an apartment or even an otherwise unoccupied house. Even though in theory it was the same thing, it was still a very clear distinction in my mind. The novelty hadn't yet worn off; at times, it still felt like a really long slumber party.

Surprisingly enough, the traffic wasn't too bad until I had almost reached Indianapolis. I still managed to make relatively good time. It wasn't yet eight at night when I pulled into the underground parking garage at Eric's building. True to his word, Eric's BMW occupied his assigned space; I swung the Honda into the spot next to it. He had made a big deal out of purchasing two parking spots when he bought the condo. The second had, on paper, been reserved for me. He had made it sound like it was a huge step in committing to me, almost on par with buying a diamond ring. However, when I realized the layout of the garage, I felt he had ulterior motives. The spaces were sectioned off in threes, divided by giant concrete walls. Eric's spot was directly next to one of those walls, mine was to the left. By purchasing two spots, he had assured himself that another tenant would never park directly next to his car. Very convenient.

I popped the trunk and grabbed the small duffel bag I had brought with me. Considering that I did have a drawer in Eric's dresser, I was able to pack fairly light. A weekend trip didn't necessitate too much luggage. Although I loved my hair and makeup products, I didn't consider myself too high-maintenance. I could part with most of it to ensure myself an easy to carry load.

I boarded the elevator and selected the ninth floor. Though Eric lived in a high rise, his salary didn't support a mortgage on one of the higher floors. Still, he had done very well for himself. The views from his place were impressive. My stomach lurched with anticipation as the doors closed and I began my ascent. Within seconds, I had arrived at my destination. The doors slid open and I exited, turning right and walking down the hall.

Eric's unit was all the way at the end. This provided him with a corner unit and quite arguably one of the best buys in the complex. As my feet floated across the carpeted floor, I dug in my purse for the keychain that held only one item: the key to Eric's place. As much as I would have preferred to simply knock at his door to announce myself, Eric insisted that I let myself in. This was in no uncertain way to remind me that I was welcome to move right in and call this my home, too.

I squelched the urge to tap on his door and inserted the key in the lock. He was more than likely sitting on the couch anyway; he would hear the commotion and realize I was here. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

The condo was bathed in shadows. Being open concept, I could see straight through to the downtown Indy skyline. The lights from the city supplied most of the illumination. The rest of the lighting came compliments of several candles.

I shut the front door quietly behind me and set my bag down just inside the threshold. I placed my purse and keys on top and allowed my eyes to adjust to the dim conditions.

"Hi, there," Eric greeted.

Like I suspected, he was seated on the couch. As expected, he was dressed in his typical weekend uniform, though in a casual manner for him. His polo shirt was clearly untucked, the buttons undone. His hair was much too short to look anything but perfect.

"Hi."

"Your gourmet dinner awaits," he smiled, motioning to the open pizza box on the table. "I found myself unable to resist, so I may have had a little already."

I walked over to him, sinking down beside him on the sofa. Pizza wasn't the only thing that he had already had a little of. I moved two empty beer bottles out of the way in order to grab a slice of pepperoni. He took that as a cue to rise from his seat, collect the trash and offer me my own beverage. He returned from the kitchen with a soda for me and two beers for himself.

Even though I never drank, it didn't offend me when others did. I wasn't about to get bent out of shape when people around me had a drink or two or ten. As long as they weren't driving afterwards, it was all good with me. Eric, of course, had been around long enough to understand this. Once Gracie had gotten over her own awkwardness with the situation, she became thankful that I tagged along as her built-in designated driver. Up until recently, I had spent the majority of my time with those who knew my stance on the issue. I hadn't consciously had to think about it for ages before addressing it with Blake and Matthew.

To be honest, I was almost happy that Eric had begun drinking before I arrived. Alcohol had a calming effect upon him; it helped soften his Type-A personality. Especially tonight, I didn't want to fight about anything. I wanted my boyfriend to myself for a change. We desperately needed some quality time with one another.

He watched me intently as I ate, asking me questions about my new job and my new home. I answered eagerly. He seemed to be genuinely interested in my answers. I debated whether or not to ask him about Thanksgiving. I wasn't sure how to approach it. I didn't want to ruin the moment by bringing up a touchy subject. I remembered his words when he learned about Matthew's arrest. He had sounded angry enough to drive to Fort Wayne himself and bring me home. I needed to devise a foolproof plan before I suggested he spend several hours in Matthew's company. So I bit my tongue instead.

By the time we finished off the pizza, Eric had also finished off the other two beers. In addition to mellowing him out, his intoxication also made him amorous. Once he returned from clearing the table, he sat down right next to me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, stroking my cheek with his thumb. A shiver ran down my spine. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned closer.

"I'm so glad that you're here in the right area code," he whispered.

"I'm glad I'm here, too," I said, really meaning it, "but since I didn't change my cell number, I'm always in the right area code."

He chuckled as he tucked my bangs behind my ear. His emerald green eyes sparkled mischievously. "You know what I mean."

"I do."

My words were hushed. I dreaded the direction in which this conversation was headed. Undoubtedly, he would turn an innocent admission of loneliness into an all-out appeal to move back home. That was exactly the last thing I wanted to hear tonight.

Partially as a stalling tactic, I reached up and kissed him. The second our lips met, the argument was forgotten. His fingers laced through my hair, hungrily drawing me into him. His hands trailed down my back, playing with the hem of my sweater. Slowly, he worked his way underneath the fabric. The feel of his skin against my bare abdomen made my breath hitch.

"Come on," he demanded huskily, rising from the couch and extending his hand.

There was no need to question where. I offered my hand to him, and he pulled me up to my feet. Still holding hands, we walked down the hall to his bedroom. Once inside, my jeans found their way to the floor. My sweater followed suit shortly thereafter. Dressed only in my bra and underwear, I climbed up on his bed.

I turned around to face him, bent at the knees. Due to our height difference, this was just about the only way we came close to looking each other in the eye. He stood before me, fully clothed, his eyes taking me in as if it was the first time he had ever seen me. A trace of emotion flickered over his features, gone too quickly for me to recognize. Love? Guilt? I couldn't be sure.

His kisses were deep and insistent at this point. I grabbed his polo shirt, bunching the cotton in my fists as I drug him to me. He hardened noticeably against my legs. I pulled his shirt up over his head, our lips breaking contact for just the briefest of moments. The garment fell to the hardwood floor.

Eric pushed gently on my shoulders, lowering me to the mattress. I laid on my back, staring up at him as he crawled on top of me. Although he wasn't underwear model perfect, he was still attractive. His frame was more lanky than muscular; his features not chiseled, but nevertheless pleasing to the eye. Best of all, he was mine.

Suddenly, nothing mattered except for us being here together, right here, right now. Our bodies moved in unison, anticipating each other's touch. I lost myself in his embrace, not thinking about our differences in opinion. As much as we fought, as often as we disagreed, I couldn't deny that our chemistry was explosive.

Maybe the reason for our urgency laid in the fact that I could count on one hand how many times we had been in the same place in the past three months. The number of those times we had actually been intimate was even less. Granted, that time had been filled with many heated discussions about my promotion and impending move. Still, we had managed to overcome all of that and continue on as though nothing had happened. Our relationship, when going well, was like a favorite pair of jeans. Comfortable, dependable, maybe with a few frayed edges but never something I could throw away.

Afterwards, I lingered in bed beside him, savoring his closeness. His arm was wrapped around me. My head rested against his shoulder; my arm draped possessively across his chest. I could feel his heart beating under my palm. Its frantic pace had slowed to a calm, even rhythm. His breathing was leisurely and deep, almost on the verge of sleep. I raised my head to take a look at him. Sure enough, his eyes were closed, his lips set in a small, self-assured smile.

I wondered what he was thinking about. I could break the silence and ask him, but I chose not to. I didn't want to interrupt that blurry moment between consciousness and sleep, where one could influence their dreams. Whatever he was considering looked pleasant, peaceful. I hoped that he was contemplating how good it felt to be together, safe in the arms of the one that you loved.

I hoped he would dream about me.

I settled back down beside him, eyes wide open. The lights of downtown Indianapolis shone through his picture window, casting shadows over his bedroom. For many people, the night was just getting started. I imagined being amongst the crowds getting ready to go out for a night on the town, stumbling along the sidewalk in platform heels that screamed my availability and willingness to go home with someone new. That life had never appealed to me. Besides, here I was, curled up in bed at ten on a Friday night with the only man I had ever been with. We were the picture of domestic bliss, at least for this moment.

Within minutes, the long drive coupled with the endless workday caught up with me. My eyelids became heavy and I too succumbed to sleep.

My dream began much like the one I had wanted for Eric. My visions were hazy, the images abstract. The one thing that was clear was that I was overwhelmed with happiness. It appeared that I was standing in an open field, sunshine and flowers the only things around for miles. I was spinning, spinning, and I could hear my own laughter. Instead of getting dizzy, I found myself only wanting more.

I wasn't alone. Of course Eric was with me. Though I couldn't see him, I knew he was holding my hand. I could feel his love surrounding me. It was like I could read his mind; I could hear all the words he wanted to say to me but was afraid to. They echoed in my head in my own voice, as if they were written down and I was reading them to myself. How he had loved me ever since the day we met. How he had known we would end up together. How he knew that I was the one. How he wanted so badly for me to be his wife. How he would love me forever and always protect me. How he hated to see me upset. How he was so thankful that I could forgive him for everything he had done.

I melted, warmed by his words of endearment. Rays of sunlight shone down upon my bare shoulders, heating my arms as well. The spinning quickened. I giggled harder, amazed at the colors that flashed before my eyes. Blues, greens, pinks, purples streamed through my thoughts, mixing together in some type of tie-dyed collage that sounded putrid in theory but was unbelievably beautiful in my dreamy reality.

The spinning stopped abruptly. I realized I was falling, but I wasn't scared. I drifted in the air like a feather, floating slowly down to my destination. I had landed on a soft pillowtop mattress, much like the one I had at Blake's. In fact, it looked like I had made it back to my bedroom. I recognized my comforter draped over my legs.

It was like I was hovering above myself, having some sort of an out-of-body experience. I could picture myself completely naked in my own bed, wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs that didn't belong to me. Instead of being afraid, I was totally at peace, knowing I was where I belonged. Again, I felt nothing but warmth and happiness, complete and utter contentment. From my viewpoint, I couldn't make out Eric's face. I watched as I ran one hand down his muscular chest, tracing his washboard abs with my fingers. My other hand clutched a fistful of his messy blond hair.

Shit.

My eyes flew open. The darkness of Eric's bedroom greeted me. His drunken arm was slung over me, nothing more than dead weight at this point. I wiggled out from underneath and sat up in bed, cradling my head in both hands. Beside me, Eric muttered something incoherent then rolled over and began snoring again. I gasped for air as quietly as possible. My heart raced uncontrollably. I sat for several moments, rocking myself gently until I felt able to get up and retreat to the bathroom.

I closed the door softly behind me, turning the lock with trembling fingers. The bright lights above the vanity made me squint. I stumbled over to the toilet, closed the lid and perched on top. I attempted to calm myself by looking around the large master bath, trying to find an imperfection or a trace that anyone had actually ever used it. Everything shined like brand new. The fixtures gleamed courtesy of the housekeeper I knew Eric employed. Not a spot on the mirror, not a trace of hair on the floor, no toothpaste residue in either of the double sinks. No wet towels hung from the shower door or were draped over the side of the jetted tub.

My game didn't help. My breath still came in ragged bursts. My pulse still pounded frantically in my veins. Alone in this cavernous space, my walls were closing in on me. Frustrated, I jumped up from the stool and made my way to the sink. I stared at my reflection in the spotless mirror, contemplating what I saw. I didn't have to look twice to see how distraught I was.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't dream about Matthew when I was in Eric's bed. Why had that even happened? Where had that come from? And whose words had my subconscious read aloud? Were those the feelings I wanted Eric to admit or were they the sentiments I wished Matthew would express?

I needed to think about this rationally. Of course I had seen Matthew without his shirt on. More often than I cared to admit, our dinners together ended up with a dip in the hot tub. There was nothing wrong with finding him attractive. So ultimately, in my dream induced vision, I had superimposed his body in place of Eric's more forgettable frame. I was just imagining my dream Eric, right?

This led me to the hair. Eric's was much too short to run my fingers through, let alone grab. But why wasn't the hair in my dream dark like his?

Because it was Matthew I was dreaming about. Undoubtedly so. I was positive, even though I hadn't seen his face. Any other explanation was futile. There was no way the man in my dreams was the man lying asleep on the other side of the door.

I was romanticizing the night that Matthew had spent consoling me. The night that he had told me that I was beautiful. The night I fell asleep in his arms. All nothing more than friendly gestures on his part. I was reading way too much into them. He had never professed his love for me. He had never given me any indication that he cared about me in anything but a platonic way. He seemed like the perfect catch because we didn't have a relationship. Friends, especially those who hadn't known each other for long, could hide their faults from one another.

I wasn't about to consider why we had both obviously been naked.

I methodically washed my face, taking as long as I possibly could to complete the task. I dried my skin with a fluffy white towel from the linen closet. I considered wadding it up on the counter or throwing it on the floor as an experiment to see if it disappeared the next day. Chickening out, I disposed of it in the hamper that stood guard in the corner of the room. I felt no guilt at leaving the cotton streaked with traces of my black eyeliner and mascara. No doubt that Eric wouldn't be attending to the laundry.

I knew I couldn't hide out in the bathroom forever. At some point in time, Eric would roll over and realize I wasn't there. Sure, I could fake needing to use the facilities, or having to wash off my makeup, but there was no way to excuse being curled up in the fetal position on his travertine floor. Even if the tiles were heated. I had to pull myself together and forget this ever happened.

Reluctantly, I climbed back into bed. Again, Eric surfaced enough to acknowledge my presence. He rolled over to face me, wrapping his arms around me. He mumbled something that sounded like "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I lied, softly, "just had to use the bathroom."

"Kay."

I waited a couple beats, then added, "I love you."

Whether it was to remind myself or because I felt guilty, I had no clue. Whatever the case, Eric's only response was a snore.

#### Chapter Twelve

"Didn't you sleep well? You still look exhausted," Eric appraised the next morning.

We were seated at the small bistro table that allowed his kitchen to be considered one of the "eat-in" variety. The first pot of coffee was still brewing; some sort of a frozen breakfast casserole was heating in the oven. I had to give him credit for attempting to be domestic.

"It's been awhile since you've seen me before I've had any caffeine," I joked half-heartedly. "Plus I think I just haven't come down off the adrenaline rush of being here yet. I just laid awake most of the night, staring at you."

"How sweet," he said as he reached across the table to take my chin in his hand, "I hope I didn't do anything embarrassing like drool."

"Nope. You do snore, though."

"No way. Maybe just because of the alcohol?"

"Nobody ever admits that they snore. And in the rare event that they do, there is always some excuse. Allergies, a cold, too many beers."

"I suppose you don't snore?"

"Never."

He laughed. The sound was so welcome to my ears. I needed to push my guilt from last night deep down inside and enjoy the time we were spending together. I wasn't about to let one stupid little dream ruin our weekend. Eric was in such good spirits it would be a waste to show him how troubled last night had left me.

"You know how we could resolve that whole adrenaline problem?"

"Eric," I whined, "let's not and say we did."

"I'm just saying that the offer still stands."

"I'm not going to quit my job now. I like it there."

"You don't have to quit. You can telecommute. It's the wave of the future, right?"

"Banks are old-fashioned. Besides, if telecommuting was a viable option in their opinion, do you really think they would have made me move to get my promotion?"

"Did you ask?"

"Well, no. But out of the two of us, your position would be far more suitable for working from home. Half the time you aren't even at your office. Maybe we could look for a place in Fort Wayne."

He snorted. "Not an option. I need to be in Indy if I ever want to get noticed. People don't get promoted if they are never around corporate."

"So then we are right back where we started. At an impasse."

The oven timer proved to be our saving grace. After it announced our breakfast was ready, Eric rose from the table. He busied himself removing the dish from the oven and dividing the contents out onto our plates. He then poured both of us cups of coffee from the now ready pot. When he returned to the table with our meal, all traces of animosity had disappeared.

"I hope you aren't upset that I made plans for tonight," he began simply.

I cut into the casserole and speared a piece with my fork. To my surprise, it wasn't half bad. "No, I'm good with whatever you want to do."

"Good. I thought I would make the other week up to you by taking you out to dinner at your favorite place."

"I wish you would have mentioned it before I came. I didn't bring anything even close to being suitable to wear there."

"No worries," he smiled, "we've got time for shopping. And I'm buying. On one condition."

"Which is?" I asked, intrigued.

"That you pick something that matches this."

Out of nowhere, he presented me with a small, black velvet box. I knew it was jewelry. By the way he slid it across the table, I knew it wasn't the piece that I'd been hoping for. Still, the surprise inside excited me. I picked up the box, gently lifting the top. The hinge was fairly strong, and the lid threatened to snap back in place with my timid gesture. I decided to open it with a flourish instead.

Nestled in the satin lining was a pendant suspended from a delicate white gold chain. It was crafted in the shape of an old skeleton key. At the top of the ornate design was a heart shaped ruby. The rest of the key was accented with diamonds. As I held it up, the morning sun streaming through the windows bounced off of the stones, causing them to sparkle.

"It's beautiful," I said.

Eric rose from the table to come stand at my side. He took the necklace from me and fastened it around my neck. When he bent down, the combination of his breath against my skin and his touch as he worked the clasp made me shiver.

"Something pretty for my pretty girl," he whispered in my ear. He trailed kisses up the back of my neck, from shoulder to hairline.

If I wasn't swooning already, I definitely was now. I watched him as he resumed his seat at the table. He lifted his fork and continued eating breakfast as if nothing had happened.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. So it's settled then. A search for a sexy red dress is on the agenda for today."

I nearly choked on my forkful of casserole. If only he had come up to Fort Wayne the other week he would have seen my version of a sexy red dress. Instead, it hung in my closet as a reminder of a broken promise. Last touched by Matthew, who seemed to be invading my weekend without actually being here.

"Are you okay?" he asked, full of concern.

"Yeah. Just went down the wrong pipe. Silly me."

Thankfully, he accepted my excuse and the rest of the meal proceeded without incident. We got ready for our outing after a quick pit stop in bed. He sat patiently while I showered and got ready, conversing with me while I occupied the vanity. He was obviously doing his best to make this the perfect day. For once, I appreciated his uncanny ability to close a sale.

Dinner reservations had been made for eight. This left us with plenty of time to search for the perfect outfit, shoes included, and return to the condo to get ready. Depending on how long the task at hand took to complete, we might be able to sneak in another round of intimacy. Seeing as how it had been quite a while since we had the opportunity, I planned to shop quickly.

Eric maneuvered his BMW through the streets of downtown Indianapolis expertly. Of course, since I was also a native, I had the same talent. However, Eric was always in control of things and always drove whenever we were together. I secretly thought this partially had something to do with the fact that he would be embarrassed to be seen in my Honda, but kept this to myself. Besides, it was nice to ride in luxury on occasion. I sunk into the buttery leather seat and enjoyed the ride.

Without asking, he drove straight to my favorite boutique. He pulled the car into an impossibly tight parking spot and we climbed out. As we met at the back of the car, he took my hand in his and drew me close.

For the next three hours, he was the dutiful boyfriend. He made no complaints as I tried on dress after dress, dragging him from store to store. When I earmarked something as a contender, I would step out of the dressing room. As I modeled for him, he would provide me with his appraisal. Nothing seemed to meet his standards. He was looking for perfection, and we hadn't found it yet. In my mind, I kept picturing the red dress hanging in my closet at home. If only he had mentioned our dinner plans before I left Fort Wayne it would have saved us both a fair amount of grief.

Just when I was about to give up hope and suggest a black dress instead, he found it. As soon as he lifted it up from the rack, I knew it was the one. The color nearly matched my newly acquired necklace perfectly. It was a bandage style dress that fit like a glove, low cut enough that the necklace sparkled against my bare skin. Even though I wasn't that well-endowed, it made me look feminine, not boyish. True to his word, Eric insisted that he foot the bill. I snuck a peek at the price as he paid for it; even though he didn't bat an eyelash, I still felt a bit guilty.

With my new purchase in hand, it was time to look for shoes. Fortunately, this was a much simpler task. A little under half an hour later, we were back in the BMW and headed to the condo.

I looked over at Eric as he drove. His green eyes were fixed on the road, deep in concentration. He looked more relaxed than he had in recent memory. I knew this had a lot to do with me being by his side. We did quite well at balancing each other; his high-strung tendencies meshed well with my easy-going demeanor. He made things urgent when I would let them resolve organically. I told him to back off sometimes and let things run their course. We made a good team.

If only our respective careers could be located in the same vicinity, things would be perfect. The majority of our arguments would disappear. That seemed to be the only thing we ever fought about. All of our anger stemmed from work-related complications. To this point, neither one of us had been willing to compromise.

As the car zoomed through crowded streets, I closed my eyes and daydreamed. What if I was the one that gave in? What if I quit the bank and moved in with him? Eric made enough that he could provide for the two of us, though we might not be able to afford designer dresses and shoes with any regularity. It might cramp his style a little bit to have to live on a more defined budget. Me, I would be fine, but then again I was used to driving a fifteen year old car. Until recently, I had lived in nothing more than a shoebox and been happy to call it home.

For me, the money wasn't the sacrifice. I would be giving up more abstract things. My job had always been a source of pride, even before the promotion. I felt an unmistakable sense of accomplishment when presented with a task that others would find daunting, only to tackle it handily. I wasn't afraid of challenges. The bank had realized this and had carefully groomed me for the role that I had today. They had believed in my potential, and it was my goal to prove them right. Leaving shortly after they had given me everything I had ever wanted from them didn't seem to be the proper way to show my appreciation.

Aside from all work related issues, I would have to give up my new life in Fort Wayne. As much as I had been scared that I wouldn't like it, that I wouldn't fit in, I had taken to it quite easily. Being the second-largest city in Indiana, it still retained enough of the big city feel without the traffic jams. What people complained about there was nothing compared to rush hour in Indy. Of course, I owed much of that comfortableness to Blake and Matthew. I seriously doubted that Eric would be happy if I came back more than occasionally to visit. Perhaps I could work something out when he was away on one of his many business trips.

The car braked abruptly, shattering my reverie. Beside me, Eric mumbled an expletive or two under his breath. I shook my head, trying to rid my brain of any notion of giving in. I was going to stand my ground on this one. He didn't realize what he was asking of me. I, in turn, would have to re-evaluate what I was expecting from him.

We were only twenty-six. Was marriage really that important at this point in our lives? Eric didn't seem to think so. Maybe I was just being the typical girl who began planning their wedding as a child, certain that since I had found the one that I needed to act on it immediately, if not sooner. If we could have it all, plus each other, did I really need a ring on my finger? As long as we could have weekends like this one, it would be enough to keep our relationship alive, right?

"What are you thinking about?" Eric asked.

The sudden conversation made me jump slightly in my seat. Embarrassed, I giggled nervously. "Steak."

He full out laughed. My obsession with steak was well documented. Thus, the reservations tonight. The odd comment made perfect sense to him, and I had successfully skirted around the true issue.

"What are you thinking about?" I shot back.

"That dress in the trunk. Both on and off of your body," he smirked.

I playfully swatted him on the shoulder. In reality, it was quite flattering for him to be so attracted to me. As I expected, the second we got back to his place and closed the door behind us, he was all over me. My shopping bags dropped to the floor right inside the condo and we ran to the bedroom like two crazed teenagers.

He had certainly gone all out to make up for his previous wrongs. From the breakfast, to the shopping, to the intimacy this had been the perfect day. Even as we piled into the BMW to go to dinner I was still flushed from the attention. Things had gone better than I ever could have expected. I knew this was my time to bring up Thanksgiving. He would likely be rather agreeable to my invitation. If not, he would remain calm in order to not make a scene.

We were seated at a table in the far corner of the restaurant, tucked away by the roaring fireplace. I imagined that Eric had put in a special request or slipped the lady that seated us a nice bribe in order to get such a secluded spot. Sitting across from each other it was as if we were the only two here.

Our waiter came and took our order. I let Eric order for me; he knew exactly what I wanted anyway. For whatever reason, it made him feel like a real man, a true caretaker, if he looked like he took control of every situation. I was so used to it that I chose to embrace it rather than fight it. Let him order my steak if it meant that much to him.

He gazed at me, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. "I love that dress on you."

"And I love you."

He smiled, but didn't return the sentiment. Just once I wished he would say it. I tried to weasel it out of him, but he was always one step ahead of me, beating around the bush. They were only words. Why were they so difficult for him to say?

I took a deep breath and reviewed my plan of attack. It was now or never.

"So," I began, running my finger along the rim of my water glass, "Thanksgiving is coming up in a little bit."

"Very true."

"I was thinking of having everyone come to Fort Wayne to see my new city. I talked with my dad about it to see if he would be interested in coming, but we haven't made any definite plans."

"And you're asking me for my opinion?"

"Well, not exactly. I'm asking if you would come. I was thinking of seeing if Gracie could come too."

"Lauren," he said, not effectively masking his grimace at my last statement, "logistically it's not the most convenient plan. Three of us would have to drive up from Indy to see one of you."

"It wouldn't be just to see me. Blake and Matthew would be there, too. Their family situation is a little bit strained, so they really don't have anywhere to go. And you could see where I live. Possibly. I mean, we have talked about having it at Matthew's house, but I'm not sure."

"Still, the three of you could all come down together. Or is the ex-con on probation or something and not allowed to leave the county?"

"Eric," I scolded.

Just then, the waiter returned with our meals, setting them between us silently while we shot daggers across the table at one another. He retreated without a word. Smart man. I unfolded my cloth napkin and spread it across my lap. Grabbing the steak knife in my hand, I contemplated threatening Eric with it. We sat mutely for a couple of minutes, grateful for the distraction of our main course. I focused my attention on neatly cutting my steak, letting the repetitive motion calm me down.

"I'm just saying," he said firmly, "I've never really associated with someone who has been on the wrong side of the law before. I don't know how these things work. But since you're the new resident expert, please advise."

"First of all, it was a DUI."

"Two," he interjected.

"Fine. Two. It's not like he held up a bank or anything. Don't get me wrong, he made some really stupid decisions. But he didn't do anything that you haven't done before."

"Lauren."

"No, don't pretend. You act like you're Mister Responsible when you are around me, but I'm sure that you've driven home a little tipsy before when I'm not here."

He stared down at his plate. It was as good as admitting his guilt.

"I never hurt anyone."

"He didn't either. He just got caught. It was years ago. He has done his time and he feels awful about it. He doesn't understand why I don't hate him."

"Neither do I."

I sighed. I could feel control of the conversation slipping away from me. Eric was determined to hate Matthew, and he hadn't even met him.

"Look," I said softly, "like I told him, I'm not about to blame him for what happened to my mother. He had no part of that. It's a huge coincidence, but maybe we were meant to meet each other. He has been abandoned by his family because of this. So has Blake. Maybe he just needs to hear from me that he's not a total failure. Maybe he needs me to symbolically forgive him. Whatever the case, he is my friend, and I'm going to be there for him."

"Are you sure that's all you are? Friends?"

My heart froze in my chest. Eric's accusing eyes burned into mine. I tried as best as I could to regain my composure. Had he noticed my nervous breakdown this morning? Had I said something in my sleep that clued him in to what the subject of my dream had been? Had he put two and two together and assumed the worst?

"I cannot believe that you would accuse me of cheating on you." The voice that I spoke in was unfamiliar to me, icy and bordering on hysteric. My lower lip trembled, but I wasn't about to cry. Adrenaline pumped through my body as I considered my next move. I had half a mind to toss my glass of water in his direction and walk out on him. I had my purse; I could call a cab back to the condo, hop in my Honda and be back on the road in forty-five minutes.

"Honey," he said, reaching across the table and taking my hand, "I didn't mean it that way. Calm down."

I yanked my fingers out of his grasp and clutched my water glass. I raised it to my lips, never once breaking eye contact. The ice cold liquid felt like fire as I swallowed it down. I focused on it traveling down my throat, silently wondering how Eric would crawl out of the hole he just dug.

"I'm a guy, Lauren," he began.

My eyebrow raised.

"I know how guys think. You are attractive and nice to him, and eventually he is going to want more. Guys just can't be friends with women. There's always some ulterior motive. Do you see me making nice with other women?"

"I barely see you at all," I reminded him.

He winced. "Well I don't. I wouldn't say I'm rude. I'm just not friends with them. I wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea. I am committed to you."

I coughed involuntarily. The look in his eyes was full of sincerity. He really believed this.

"You have a funny way of showing it," I allowed once I caught my breath.

"I know that I haven't been the best boyfriend lately. I know that I have put work first a couple of times. But really, it's no different than what you have done. We are both driven people. I don't expect you to back down, either. We've both put ourselves first instead of focusing on our relationship. And when that happens, feelings are going to get hurt."

I really doubted that he had broken down in tears when I decided to move. Somehow the thought of him curled up into a ball on his couch didn't come to mind as his first response to the news. Drinking, yes. Throwing something, maybe. The way I remembered it, it was as if he had been indifferent. Indifferent followed by pissed off.

"My promotion wasn't a surprise. I had been groomed for this position practically since I started there. For you to act like it came out of nowhere is just ignorant. Did you really think that I would work that hard to get something and then just turn it down? I hardly put that in the same category as you conveniently forgetting about some business trip until an hour before you're supposed to pick me up and calling me from the airport."

"I've apologized for that."

"By buying me things. Not by saying the words. Not by telling me what a big mistake you made. Not by any means that mattered."

I glared at him from across the table. Guilt was written all over his expression. He looked as though I had punched him in the stomach. I wasn't sure if the reaction was from true remorse or because I was taking a stand and calling him out. I crossed my arms over my chest, pushing myself away from the table slightly. As far as I was concerned, this dinner was over.

The waiter appeared out of nowhere to drop off the check. The irony was not lost on me. If it was up to me, I would have given him a huge tip. Eric snatched it up, sliding his credit card into the folder and putting it back on the table without even giving the total a glance. I wondered if this dinner was courtesy of his expense account or if he was actually footing the bill.

"I'm going to the restroom," I decided. "I'll meet you at the car."

Before he could respond, I pushed my chair back and rose from the table. The walk across the entire dining area to the ladies room felt like the walk of shame. As I teetered on my new, uncomfortable heels, I imagined the other diners staring at me sympathetically. Given the volume of our conversation, I was pretty sure that no one had been able to eavesdrop, save for possibly our waiter. Realistically, I was just any other patron needing to freshen up. No one would pay me any mind. Still, I breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung shut behind me, thankful for the refuge.

I set my purse on the granite countertop and pulled out my cell phone. No missed calls, no voice mails, no texts. Not even an email advertisement announcing an online sale. I was alone here, cut off from the outside world. I had secretly hoped to stumble across a message from either Blake or Gracie, asking for details of my weekend so far. Of course, since I had recently gushed to both of them about how Eric and I were finally going to be together, they were giving me space. I contemplated sending a quick text to see if they were available, but my pride caused me to shove the phone back in my bag. I wasn't ready to admit defeat.

I had to go out there and stand my ground. Eric owed me this. I was the one who had been understanding so many times before; it was his turn now. I needed to pull up my big girl pants and face this head on.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Eric had given me a back-handed compliment by telling me I was so attractive that I couldn't be friends with a guy. I didn't think I needed to put a bag over my head, but I just didn't see it. Looks didn't mean everything, right? I had spent lots of time during our relationship by myself, miles away from Eric. Men hadn't exactly fallen at my feet then. Why did he think it would be any different now? Because this one in particular had a name? A reason to be at my place? A criminal record?

After an appropriate amount of time had passed, I exited the restaurant and headed to the parking lot. I was certain that Eric would have settled the bill by now and retreated to his car. Even though I had a key for the condo, he had never entrusted me with the key to his BMW. I wasn't going to wait out in the cold for him to unlock it; that wouldn't prove anything other than my stupidity. I wanted to make him wait a little bit, make him squirm. I knew he would sit there, waiting. He wouldn't leave me.

True to my prediction, I saw him sitting in the driver's seat as I approached. The car wasn't running yet. As he saw me coming, he started the engine. I slid in to the passenger seat without a word and fastened my seatbelt.

The drive back to his place was made in silence. He drove neither fast nor slow, but exactly the speed limit when possible in the weekend traffic. I stared out the window, watching the streetlights and sights of my hometown from a different perspective. For once, I was ready to go home. Home being Fort Wayne. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. In such a short time, I had been able to disassociate myself from the place where I had grown up, where I had always lived.

He pulled the BMW into its assigned spot and shut off the engine. He made no move to exit so I sat there, too. I stared sideways at him, looking past him to my own car. After a moment of uncomfortable quiet, I cleared my throat. This seemed to bring him out of his trance.

"If it means so much to you," he said softly, drawing out the words as though they pained him to utter them, "then I will come for Thanksgiving."

Without waiting for a response, he popped open the driver's side door and stalked to the elevator. Stunned, I followed behind him.

I had won this battle, but could I win the war?

#### Chapter Thirteen

The rest of the visit with Eric went as well as could be expected. After he had conceded defeat, he retreated to the bedroom. I trailed behind, unsure if I was reading his signals correctly. I knew there would be no extracurricular activities tonight, but wasn't sure if I should assume I would be invited in at all. I half expected him to ask me to bunk on the couch, but he didn't say anything to that effect. He gazed at me as I unzipped my dress and changed into a pair of flannel shorts and a t-shirt. His expression was unreadable. We both climbed into bed, lying as far apart as the king sized mattress would allow.

When morning came, I made some flimsy excuse about needing to return to the office to finish up some work I hadn't done on Friday. Instead of begging me to stay, he took this at face value and nodded. He understood work and being busy; maybe he didn't think it was a lie. At any rate, he sat at the kitchen table poring over the Sunday newspaper as I gathered my belongings and prepared to leave. He barely addressed me as I returned to his side, my overnight bag slung over my shoulder. I promised him I would text him the directions to wherever Thanksgiving would be held. He mumbled an acknowledgment and kissed me dismissively on the cheek.

It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders as the elevator doors closed in front of me and I descended to my Honda. I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding as I unlocked my car door and climbed inside.

Once I was on the interstate and headed back to Fort Wayne, I pulled out my phone and dialed Gracie. She had obviously had a pretty rough night; the hangover she was feeling was apparent in the way she spoke on the phone. Because of this, she didn't question why I was wasting precious time with Eric calling her. I quickly asked her to come to Thanksgiving. She responded in the affirmative. Like with Eric, I told her that I would finalize the details later. She seemed relieved when I ended the conversation. I imagined she had hung up and gone straight back to bed. I wondered if she would even remember that we had spoken later.

The Mustang was parked in the driveway when I pulled up to the house. Luckily, Matthew usually pulled in on Blake's side and today was no different. I opened the garage door and maneuvered my car in beside the Miata. I tried to ignore the fact that just the sight of his car had brought a smile to my face. We were just friends, that was all. I was happy to be seeing Blake again, too.

"Hey, gorgeous," Matthew greeted the moment the door to the kitchen swung open, "welcome home."

I stepped completely into the kitchen. Matthew was seated at the breakfast bar. Blake stood across from him, loading the dishwasher. She twirled around as I shut the door behind me, a surprised look on her face. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting me back yet. She narrowed her eyes with concern, studying my face for signs of tears.

"Hey, yourselves," I said as casually as I could muster. I walked past them both and deposited my duffel bag and purse on the kitchen table.

"I am so glad you're back," Matthew said.

His sentiment caught me entirely off guard. I turned to look at him, meeting him squarely in the eyes. I felt heat rise up to my cheeks. Out of the corner of my vision, I noticed Blake stopped what she was doing. His comment hadn't gone unnoticed by her, either.

It took him just a split second to finish his thought, but during that time you could hear a pin drop. Blake and I collectively held our breath and waited.

"Blake's cooking is horrendous."

Oh. I giggled nervously. Blake returned to her dishes. It was just like me to overreact. Again, an innocent, friendly observation. He was happy to see me because of my culinary skills, nothing more.

"Did you have a good time?" Blake asked, effectively changing the subject.

I shrugged, and the siblings exchanged a knowing glance.

"Parts of it were good," I allowed, "and I got him to agree to come to Thanksgiving."

"Great." Blake said, sounding like it was anything but.

"And you've got yourself a host," Matthew added. "Blake worked on me while you were gone. I find it hard to tell her no."

"But he gave a valiant effort." Blake laughed.

"So, how about tomorrow after work we go over to my place? I'll come and pick you up. Blake has a client meeting, so it'll just be the two of us."

The way he presented it was so ordinary, like it was no big deal. And logistically, it made sense. Thanksgiving was fast approaching, and if I was the hostess, I needed to feel in my element. There was no possible way I could do that in a foreign kitchen. It was just prudent to get a lay of the land. But to my ears, his words had a double meaning. It almost sounded like he was asking me out.

"Sure, whatever works for you," I tried my best to sound noncommittal.

"Then it's settled. We can stop somewhere and pick up dinner on the way. I have nothing at my house, unless you like cereal."

"He likes to mooch off of his baby sister," Blake said with a grin.

"My baby sister knows how to pick a roommate."

At that, I turned bright red. No matter what the topic at hand was, he always seemed to twist it around in a way that left me blushing. I wondered how much of it was intentional flirting, and how much was just his charisma. I had watched him interact with Blake so many times; none of these comments appeared out of the ordinary. I was just taking things out of context. If he was saying these exact words to his sister, there would be nothing wrong with them.

Damn Eric for putting these thoughts into my head. Damn him for suggesting that Matthew would inherently want more than friendship. His comments had me subliminally creating examples of flirtatious behavior. He was intentionally feeding me reasons to have a guilty conscience.

Not that I needed any help with the guilt. My dream on Friday night had succeeded quite well on its own, thank you. My thoughts flashed back to the image of Matthew naked in my bed, my comforter draped conveniently over him to avoid exposing too much. If I hadn't already been the color of a beet, I would have turned crimson.

Matthew slid down from his barstool.

"I hate to eat and run," he announced, "but Chris is coming over in an hour. I need to get back home."

At this news, Blake stuck out her tongue. He didn't look offended. Instead he crossed the kitchen and gave her a big hug.

"Bye, dork," she said, pulling away from his embrace, "I love you."

"Love you, too."

He made his way back to me. I stood frozen in place, watching as he approached as if he was moving in slow motion. He placed his hand on my shoulder, giving me a big smile.

"And you," he said, squeezing gently, "I will see tomorrow."

I nodded dumbly. All I could think about was his hand on me, how his touch was warm even through my sweatshirt. He bent down, his lips just inches away from my ear. I could feel his breath on my neck. Despite my desire to keep cool, I shivered.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. Obviously, he didn't want Blake to hear. He held me at arm's length, his blue eyes searching my face for clues.

"Yes," I said under my breath, "I will be."

"Really?"

I nodded, attempting to convince myself. He shook his head in disbelief, then squeezed my shoulder once more before he left. I stood still, staring at the place that he had just vacated, even after I heard the front door close behind him. Tears sprang to my eyes as I heard the Mustang roar to life and pull away from the house. With a deep breath, I wiped the moisture away with my sleeve and went to join Blake by the breakfast bar.

Blake either hadn't heard our exchange, or she did a good job pretending she hadn't. She glanced up as I took a seat on the stool across the counter from her. Finished with her cleaning, she set her dish towel down and came around to join me.

"Can I ask you something?" I questioned hesitantly. I felt embarrassed even bringing it up, certain it was nothing.

"Sure."

"Who's Chris?"

She smirked, stifling a laugh. "Chris is his best friend. Also my ex."

"Oh."

I couldn't help but feel relief. The sentiment was surprising to say the least. When he had mentioned the name, as gender neutral as it was, I had felt some apprehension about him possibly having a date. This made no sense at all. Him dating someone was none of my business. None of my concern.

"Jealous much?"

Blake was perceptive, that much was sure.

"I was just curious. He never talks about anyone around me. And you obviously had a strong opinion about this person. It was intriguing."

"And you thought Chris might be a girl. Classic."

"First Eric and now you."

Her eyebrow arched, begging me for an explanation.

"Eric told me to be careful. That guys can't be friends with girls. He said that eventually Matthew would end up wanting more even though I am spoken for."

"Which is why you're home early?"

"Partially."

I proceeded to go into great detail about the weekend. I made sure to highlight the good parts: the pizza, the conversations, the shopping, my new necklace, the intimacy. But no matter how much I raved about the fun we had had together, the fairy tale still ended the same way. We still wound up arguing over my move to Fort Wayne during a very expensive dinner. I edited out the dream I had about Matthew, not sure that needed to be shared with anyone, especially not his sister.

"I'm proud of you," she stated when I had finished, "for standing up to him the way you did. I mean, I've only known you for a few weeks now, but already he has put you through a lot of grief. I can't imagine the smaller things that he has done during your relationship. Anyone who would ever ditch you like he did, that's not their first offense. Maybe now that you've removed yourself from your comfort zone you are starting to realize that."

I shrugged. "He promised me when I left that we would make things work. I believed him. And now I'm not so sure."

"He's coming to Thanksgiving, right? That's progress. I know it didn't come as smoothly as you intended, but he is giving you that."

"He hasn't shown up yet. He could still ditch."

"And face your wrath? If you mean anything to him, that is extremely doubtful. Especially not when your dad will be here, too. And Matthew. If he is so worried about my brother, he'll definitely come to size up the competition."

"There's no competition."

She smiled knowingly. "I know, you have a boyfriend, right? Who is very jealous of a new friend you've made who also happens to be a guy. Trust me, Eric wouldn't miss this for the world. He'll come just to put a face with the name."

"We should probably call the police and put them on notice." I said, only half joking.

She giggled. "I know that Matthew flirts with you a little bit when it's just us, but he will be on his best behavior in front of Eric. In fact, he'll be nervous as hell in front of your dad."

"I'm asking a lot of him, aren't I?"

I hadn't really thought about it in that context before. I was attempting to help Matthew by having him talk with my father. My intentions were good, but I had set my plan into motion with little regard to how he felt about the whole thing. Matthew had been hurt deeply by the two people who were supposed to love him unconditionally, and I was asking him to spill his darkest secrets to a stranger. He was intensely private about the whole turn of events, and I wanted him to put everything on display. He hadn't even sat down to tell me about it in his own words. I only knew what I did because of Blake and her scrapbook.

Blake thought for a moment before saying anything. "Yes, but it's not a bad thing. He needs to face his demons before he can get rid of them. He's been broken for a long time, Lauren, and I wasn't sure that anything would ever begin to fix him. And then you came into our lives and something happened. Sometimes you don't understand why you meet certain people, and other times you do."

"I always thought it was a huge coincidence that we were all affected by drunk driving. I answered your ad for a roommate on a whim. I never really considered it was fate."

"Call it what you want, but it happened. And he thinks the world of you. And so do I. So whatever it is, it's a good thing."

"I know it may be a convoluted scheme, but my intentions are good. I feel so bad that he only has a handful of people that he considers to be on his side. If I can show him that most people don't think like his parents, then maybe he'll start to feel less guilt over everything."

"We all have skeletons in our closet. His are just available for everyone to read about on the internet."

"Because if it's on the internet, then it's got to be true." My words were laced with sarcasm.

"Most of it is in this case."

"I haven't looked. I don't know if I ever will. If he wants me to know, he'll tell me."

She smiled. "I think he will tell you everything. In time. He's never had to do that before, so it's all new territory. Chris and I already know. We lived it with him. And he pushes everyone else away before they get too close. But you, you're different."

"Does it bother you that they are still friends? Him and Chris?"

She shook her head. "They were friends before we dated. And he needs someone else who understands everything. Chris is a decent guy. Things just didn't work out between us. And I don't have to like all of his friends."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blake wringing her hands as she spoke. Clearly, there was a lot she was editing out. I wondered if, in time, she would share the whole story with me like she was sure her brother would share his. I placed my hand on her shoulder reassuringly and we sat quietly for a moment. Discreetly, she wiped a tear away. I pretended not to see.

#### Chapter Fourteen

I made it through an entire Monday after a fight with Eric without getting flowers at work. Maybe he considered the acceptance of the invite to Thanksgiving to be repentance enough. Or maybe some of the words I had spoken at our ill-fated dinner had finally sunken in. Either way, I was fine with it. I was sick of him trying to buy my forgiveness with things, but I still wore the ruby necklace proudly. It was, after all, beautiful.

He hadn't texted me since I left abruptly, either. Since time was drawing near to the holiday, if he didn't break the ice soon, I would be the one who ended the silent treatment. I did have to tell him when and where to show up after all. I didn't, however, have to make it flowery and filled with sentiment. A simple address and time would suffice. If he hadn't made the first move by the time I was ready to officially announce everything, that was my plan.

True to Matthew's word, the house was empty when I arrived home. Blake had been extra careful to remind me that she was meeting with a client tonight and that she would just grab something to eat on the way home. In fact, she had looked almost giddy that she would be leaving me alone with her brother. I was sure she was convinced that there was an attraction there. If she only knew about the dream.

I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. I checked my hair in the mirror and touched up my makeup. Without dinner to prepare, I had nothing to keep me occupied while I waited for him. Nervous energy bubbled up inside me. Unable to sit still, I paced the living room floor.

This was nothing, I reminded myself. It wasn't like we were going out on a date. He was taking me back to his place after getting dinner somewhere, sure, but it was all innocent. I needed to stop making this out to be anything more than it was. Did I want it to be something more than it really was?

It wasn't out of the ordinary to notice his car pulling into the drive. It was strange, however, that I stared at him as he got out and made his way up the sidewalk. From my angle, I could see him but he couldn't see me. As I stood on the other side of the door, I wondered if he would ring the doorbell or use his key. Once I heard the key slide into the lock, I grabbed the doorknob and turned.

"Hey," I greeted as I swung the door open, "I figured I'd save you the trouble."

"Hey, gorgeous. Ready to go?"

With a quick gesture, he removed his key from the door. If I had surprised him, he covered well. I nodded my agreement and went to get my purse. He leaned against the wall, waiting. His stance was casual, unaffected. I felt anything but. When I returned to his side, he held the door open for me, allowing me to pass. He locked up the house behind us. It seemed natural to let him do that; he was there almost as much as I was and I lived there.

"So what sounds good for dinner?" he asked as we walked to the car.

I shrugged. "I could go for a drive through cheeseburger to be honest."

"My kind of girl."

He didn't see me blush; he was too busy opening the passenger door for me. I got in and did my best to regain my composure as he walked around the car and climbed in the driver's seat. The car was impressive, though I didn't expect anything less. It fit him, his personality, his utter attractiveness.

He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, along with the stereo. Loud music blared from the speakers. He quickly moved to turn down the volume, but not before I recognized the song. Instinctively, my hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from shutting the radio off completely.

We both froze in place, staring at our arms as if they weren't attached to the rest of our bodies. Slowly, we turned to look at each other. We were still touching. I wasn't sure I had the strength to let go. His blue eyes searched mine intently, looking for an explanation.

"I didn't realize you liked Parabelle," I said softly. "I don't think I've met anyone else who's ever heard of them."

He smiled. "Have you seen them live? They've played Indy a few times."

"No. Eric's not really into the whole music thing. He would never go with me, and I really wouldn't want to go by myself."

"So the next time they come, I'll take you."

"Only if we drive this." I was shocked at my boldness. I was pretty sure I was flirting.

"I know it's not a Honda, but it gets me where I need to go. I'm surprised you would lower your high standards on my account."

Somehow when Matthew made fun of my aging car, I found it amusing and not insulting. I doubted that Eric would ever be able to pull that off, even if he had recited the words verbatim. I laughed, a pure and easy sound that made his smile spread across the whole of his face.

"Now, if you'll let go of me, I kind of need my arm to drive."

"Oh," I said, totally embarrassed.

I released my grip around his wrist and placed my offending hand in my lap. It was his turn to laugh. While my cheeks burned, he seemed completely at ease. I was so aware of his closeness I couldn't concentrate on anything else. His right hand rested on the gear shift, his fingers dangling dangerously close to my left leg. It shouldn't have surprised me that he drove a stick, this was, after all, an authentic sports car.

He drove fast, but not obnoxiously so. Maybe everything just felt intensified given the situation. The ride was different than in Blake's Miata, the only other convertible I had to compare it with. This engine was bigger, louder and definitely accelerated faster. This was a car that turned heads. I noticed people giving us second glances as we passed. It was an enjoyable feeling to imagine others being jealous or at least envious. The short ride to the drive through built the case for me of why anyone would buy such an impractical vehicle. I totally understood now. The only thing that would have been better was if we could have driven with the top down.

Matthew insisted on not letting me pay for any part of my dinner. He passed the bag over to me to hold. I breathed in the smell of cheeseburgers and french fries. It was heavenly. I didn't allow myself to splurge on fast food often, but when I did, I enjoyed it. I had always grown up believing in the value of a good home-cooked meal, plus once I got older, I actually liked cooking. But I had to admit it was nice to take a night off every once in a while.

I made sure to pay close attention to where we were going once we left the restaurant. After all, I was going to have to tell my guests how to get to Thanksgiving. We drove past where I would normally have turned off to go home and continued down the highway until the houses got further and further apart. Even though we were only about five minutes from the interstate, our surroundings appeared more rural. This was further out than I had dared to venture before, but so far, so good. I could still figure out where I was.

He turned right onto a two-lane road that curved and weaved over the landscape. The Mustang handled responsively. On both sides of the car I could see impressive houses. I wondered if one of them was his, but we kept going. The road kept curving, and the area became more wooded. Now I couldn't see the properties, only mailboxes and driveways. My inner real estate enthusiast was slightly disappointed. I loved looking at houses, even from afar.

"I have to warn you," he said suddenly, causing me to jump, "according to Blake, there are very few redeeming qualities to my place once the pool is closed for the season."

"I doubt that," I muttered.

I remembered back to Blake's description of the kitchen with double ovens. How the dining room would be large enough to accommodate all of my guests. I hardly expected those features to be associated with something tiny or rundown. Plus, I knew enough about their relationship to understand that they enjoyed giving each other a hard time.

The car slowed, and we turned into one of the non-descript driveways. I wondered how in the world I would be able to describe to the Indianapolis portion of our guest list which mailbox to turn at. I hadn't counted. There were no real landmarks, only house numbers. Of course, they would already have the address, but I was sure Eric would complain if he had to back up and turn around due to faulty directions.

The driveway was completely blacktopped, and for a few yards, all I could see were trees. I held my breath, waiting to see what we would pull up to. The miniature forest parted to reveal a sprawling brick ranch with a three car garage. This home was every bit as well maintained as Blake's and the landscaping appeared to have been professionally done.

He reached for the garage door opener clipped to his visor, and the door over the two-car portion raised slowly. A black Toyota Camry, brand new from the looks of it, took up residency on the right hand side. Confused, I looked over at him as he parked beside it. He seemed to pay it no attention, like the other car belonged there. Blake hadn't mentioned a roommate.

"So this is it," he said with a flourish, "home sweet home."

He exited the car and came around the passenger side to open my door. He extended his hand to help me out, and I took it gratefully. I hadn't realized how low to the ground the car sat until I attempted to climb out of it. He took the bag of food and I collected the drinks.

My curiosity got the better of me and I had to ask. "Do you have a roommate, too?"

"Not since Blake ditched me, no. Why?"

He followed my gaze over to the Camry and laughed.

"You really thought I would drive the Mustang during bad weather? That's my winter car."

"Wow," was all I could think of saying. "I couldn't imagine having two car payments."

"Me either. So I don't."

I had never really thought about the kind of money that Matthew made in his managerial role. He never acted like he lived from paycheck to paycheck, so I figured he did well enough. But he had never flaunted the contents of his bank account, either. Being here, in his home, looking at his two brand new cars put things into a little better perspective.

He led me into the house proper, flipping on lights as we went. As I expected, everything was tastefully decorated, no doubt by his sister. We passed through a mud room connected to a half bath and straight into the kitchen. Like advertised, it was well appointed.

"Wow." I said again, embarrassed that something more intelligent couldn't come out of my mouth.

He shrugged. "It's okay. Like I'm sure Blake told you, we don't use it much. My favorite appliance is the microwave. And the fridge would come in second. I'm glad I finally met someone who can use it."

I set the drinks down on the concrete countertop and gazed in amazement at everything. It had all been designed using a black and white theme, even down to the ceramic tile floor. Black lacquer cabinetry lined the walls. A massive refrigerator/freezer combination stood guard across from the much referred to double ovens. High end features abounded, including a pot-filler above the gas cooktop. It was as if someone had designed my dream kitchen and installed it right here in someone else's home.

"So, do you want the tour now or after we eat?"

"Now's good."

He set down our dinner on the counter and grabbed me by the hand again. He pulled me playfully along as we walked through the rest of his home. I tried not to concentrate on the feeling of his skin against mine and on what he was telling me instead. He acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be holding my hand. I chalked it up to his flirtatious nature. That had to be it, right? Friends could hold hands without it meaning anything, right?

During the moments where I was paying attention to his words, I learned that Blake had redecorated the entire house during her senior year of college as her project. The love and respect that he had for her was apparent. He was obviously proud of her achievements and she deserved the accolades. She had done an excellent job. The black and white theme continued through the rest of the home, accentuated here and there with touches of color, primarily red. The furnishings were very contemporary, very linear and impeccably cared for. It was like walking through a lived in version of a magazine spread.

The tour over, we settled on his bright red couch with our dinner. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I took my first bite. I finished almost as quickly as he did. He said nothing, only smirking slightly as he cleared our trash and disappeared into the kitchen to dispose of it.

When he returned, he sunk down onto the sofa beside me. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair and sighed. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't work up the nerve to do so.

"What?" I asked, hoping to draw it out of him.

"Did you and the boyfriend have another fight? I know it's none of my business, and you don't have to tell me. It's just that you came home early yesterday until of spending every last moment you could have together. And you didn't seem as happy as you should have."

I closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself for what I was going to say. He waited patiently as I composed myself. I wondered how much I should tell him.

"Yes, Eric and I had a disagreement."

"I thought so. Is that why he bought you that?" He gestured to my necklace. "Which is beautiful, by the way. Kind of like someone I know."

I placed my hand over the pendant, rolling it between my fingers. "No, he bought me this before it happened. And a dress to match. And shoes."

He nodded. "He seems the type to show his affection by buying things."

"Exactly. And that's what we argued about. Partially."

"And what else?"

It was my turn to sigh. The way his eyes bore into me, I knew that Matthew had his own suspicions. Was I going to confirm them or could I find an easy way out? I chose the path of least resistance, which was half-true, at least. No need to create conflict. "Thanksgiving."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Don't lie, Lauren."

His use of my given name startled me. He knew what was really going on, well, most of it anyway. With that one sentence, he had told me he knew I was attempting to protect him.

"Eric complained about the drive-"

"Look," he interrupted, and I immediately shut up. "I know he's not objecting to meeting Blake. It's me that's the issue. You can't tell me it's not. He is worried about his girlfriend hanging out with some guy who has a criminal record. I can't say that I blame him. Maybe he should be."

"Matthew."

"Let me finish. If he knew where you were right now, he'd probably flip a lid, right? I know that you are trying to help me, but it's not worth wrecking your relationship over. Don't you get it? I'm not worth it."

I sat in stunned silence, unsure if he was done. When he made no move to say anything further, I took it to mean it was my turn for rebuttal.

"First off," I said with as much force as I could muster, "I am a big girl who can make her own decisions. Eric doesn't tell me who I can and cannot spend time with. I am here because I want to be, not because it will piss him off, which it will. Secondly, our relationship had its fair share of issues long before I even met you. If, in fact, we end up going our separate ways, it will be due to a multitude of factors. Not just you. And lastly and most importantly, you are worth it. I know you haven't had a lot of people stand up for you, and it is their loss. I am sorry that your parents are idiots. But you can't go through the rest of your life assuming that everyone else is as closed-minded as they are."

"Your boyfriend seems to be pretty closed-minded. Why bother doing this, Lauren, when we all know how it will turn out?"

"Because maybe I'm being selfish and I just want all of the people that I love to be in one room and at least pretend to be civil to one another."

The words came out in a rush, before I could honestly think about what I was saying. One word in particular hung in the air between us. I clasped my hands over my mouth, wishing the cushions of the couch would swallow me whole.

"I don't deserve anyone's love, Lauren," he said sadly, "especially not yours."

He stood up and walked to the large picture window at the front of the house. He leaned against the windowsill, staring out into the evening sky. The sun was setting now, and in just a matter of minutes, everything would be dark. For now, there were only shadows. It all seemed fitting somehow.

I remained on the sofa, every muscle in my body rigid. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to curl up in the fetal position and cry myself to sleep. My turmoil was twofold; I hadn't lied when I had thrown the word love around but I wasn't sure to what extent and he had rejected it anyway.

I watched him as he stood, frozen at the window. He made no move to acknowledge my presence and I wondered if he realized I was still there. Eventually, he would have to turn around and take me back home. I couldn't imagine how embarrassed I would be if I had to call Blake to come pick me up. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

"Here's the thing," I said as I sprung up from my seat to join him, "you don't get to decide how I feel."

He turned to face me. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that his vision was clouded with unshed tears. My lower lip trembled. I raised my hand to his face, my fingers running along the length of his jaw.

"I don't know why you hate yourself so much," I whispered. When he started to protest, I pressed my finger to his lips and shook my head. "We can't change the past, but we don't have to let it rule us. Do you think I wake up every morning with a chip on my shoulder because my mom died? Do you think that most of the people that I come into contact with even know that about me?"

"Lauren, nobody's going to hate you because your mom died. You had nothing to do with that."

"Really? Because I remember when I was in school how it weirded people out. Kids didn't know what to say. It was awkward to have people come over to my house and ask where she was. So I hid it from people. I didn't lie about it; I just acted like nothing was out of the ordinary and I didn't mention it. It became easier to just say I lived with my dad. Let them think that my parents were divorced or something. That way people didn't feel sorry for me."

"I suppose it would be ironic for me to tell you that I'm sorry for what you had to go through."

I smiled. "And then, one day, I decided that I was being stupid. If people didn't like me for that, then that was their loss. I wasn't shouting it from the rooftops, but when people asked I told them the whole truth. And it made me feel better. And you know what? Most people didn't make a big deal out of it. Sure, they would offer their condolences and we'd talk about it a little, but we wouldn't dwell on it."

"I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"The moral of the story is that you can't dwell on your past, either. How do you expect anyone to ever see you for who you really are if you are stuck in the dark ages? You have put up this wall of self-loathing and pity and you wonder why nobody can get past it. You won't let them."

"You got past it."

"Only because I'm stubborn. You tried to push me away, too. Just like everyone else. You walked out of that room and left without an explanation. Hell, if Blake hadn't been there to explain what was going on, I'd still be trying to figure out where you went."

He snorted, a small smile flickering across his features.

"Think about it. Excluding me, the only other people that you are remotely close to are Blake and Chris. And they lived through it with you. You can't hide anything from them. And they know you well enough to not label you for a couple of mistakes. And you remind me of myself."

I looked up into his eyes, studying his face. "You will never be able to push me away. In this short time, you have become one of my best friends in the entire world. And I will never see you as just a newspaper article, or a tragedy, or a statistic. You are so much more than that. You just have to show people that. And one of these days, the right person will come along for you and you will make her a very happy girl."

My voice broke on the last sentiment, and I had to turn away from him so he wouldn't see me wipe away my tears. Jealousy seized my stomach. How would I react when that very thing happened? I wanted to believe that I would be happy for him. Yet a nagging voice reminded me that if we had been in another place, at another time, I would have chosen myself for him.

"Hey," he said softly.

His arms reached for me. His hands grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around and pulling me into his embrace. I allowed him to hold me, the tension in my muscles relaxing slightly at his touch. He rested his chin on the top of my head and hugged me tighter. My cheek pressed against his chest, I could hear his heartbeat, feel him breathing. I closed my eyes and let out a ragged breath of my own.

"Why so sad?" he whispered, stroking my hair.

I shrugged. There was no way in the world I was about to tell him why. My mind reeled, trying to come up with a logical explanation. "I just want you to be happy. You deserve that."

"Happy like you are?"

He lifted my cheek with his thumb, holding my chin in place so that I stared up at him. His eyes were full of doubt. He knew there was something I was hiding; he just wasn't going to press the issue. For that I was grateful. I had already said too much.

Gently, he lowered my face to its previous position. We stood silently, arms wrapped around each other, watching as the last rays of sun disappeared on the horizon. After darkness had officially fallen, we remained standing for quite some time, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, he pulled away.

"I guess it's time for you to go," he said reluctantly, "which leaves me with one question. Can you drive a stick?"

#### Chapter Fifteen

"What?" I asked, clearly not following.

"Can you drive a stick shift?" He enunciated each word carefully as if I was having trouble comprehending. Actually, I was thankful for the help; I needed a moment to be able to form complete sentences.

"It's been a while. But yes."

He produced his car keys from his jeans pocket and dangled them in front of me. When I didn't take the bait, he lifted my hand, placed my palm upward, and dropped them in. My fingers reflexively wrapped around them.

"Then you're driving."

"What?"

He had already walked past me towards the garage. My short legs hustled to keep up with him, my steps two to his one.

"Don't think I didn't notice you eying my car. In fact, I think it may be the only reason you're nice to me." He turned back to me, a huge grin on his face. I blushed. "See?"

He held the driver's side door of the Mustang open for me. I climbed in and he closed the door behind me. As he made his way around to the passenger side, I got to work positioning the seat and the mirrors. He would have some major adjustments to do when he resumed driving; there was nearly a foot and a half of height difference between the two of us. Once I felt as though I was sitting in the front seat of the car as opposed to the back seat, I started the ignition. The engine somehow sounded even more powerful when I was in control.

I reversed out of the garage and pulled the car around the circular driveway without incident. However, on my attempt to pull out onto the road, I killed the engine. Sheepishly, I looked over to the passenger seat, expecting him to yell at me. Instead, he stifled a laugh.

"Sorry," I said as I started the car back up, "I guess I am a little rusty."

"No worries," he said, sounding like he really meant it.

"I wonder if you'll be saying that when I burn up your clutch."

"I seriously doubt that will happen. It's like riding a bike."

"I can't ride a bike."

"Shit."

I laughed and pulled out onto the road. It was true. Once I got the nervousness out of my system, I shifted gears effortlessly. It was actually pretty fun. After a couple minutes, I felt confident enough to even carry on a conversation.

"So, I think this will end up being an excellent Thanksgiving," I began, "Blake was right. Your house is excellent for entertaining."

"I can't believe she said something that nice. And thanks. I hope it will be everything you want it to. You know, you deserve to be happy, too."

"I know you're nervous about everything, but it will be okay. My dad is like the sweetest person you'll ever meet. And Gracie's one of my best friends. She reminds me of Blake in a lot of ways, so there will be no problem with her. I'll just have to make sure Eric is on his best behavior. You know, give him a little 'don't be an asshole' pep talk or something."

"It's hard to stop something that comes so naturally."

"Matthew," I scolded, playfully swatting him on the arm, "he's had a hard time coping with this whole promotion thing. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Okay, okay, sorry. Maybe my judgment has been a little skewed by recent events. But don't expect us to become best friends anytime soon."

"Fair enough. He rubs people the wrong way sometimes. He and Gracie are like mortal enemies. They won't even ride up together. Gracie and my dad are taking his car and Eric's driving separate. That, and I'm sure he would protest on riding in anything other than his BMW."

"I like Gracie already. And I'm not a fan of BMWs. Too prissy for my taste."

I snorted. "He actually bought an extra parking spot at his condo so that no one will park next to it. He claims it's for me when I visit, but I know better."

"Really?"

"You can't make this stuff up."

"So, if you could have any car you wanted-besides your Honda-what would you get?"

"Right now, I'm starting to really see the merit in Mustangs," I laughed. "But if you're asking me if I would go the BMW route, I would have to say no. My experience with one has been from the passenger seat only, but they're not for me."

"He's never let you drive it?"

I shook my head. "I don't think he would allow anyone to drive it. He practically freaks out if we go somewhere with valet parking."

"Silly."

"Agreed. I mean, it's a nice car, but it's not wrapped in gold or anything. It kind of makes me wish someone would swing open their door on it in a parking lot somewhere. Give him a nice door ding."

"Don't give me any ideas. I've got my contacts. And, in just a few short days, that car is going to be in my driveway."

"He would flip. It would almost be worth his wrath just to see his expression."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side."

Our lively conversation had made the short commute home that much shorter. Disappointedly, I realized that we were just minutes away from Blake's. I sighed audibly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing really. Just time to go back to reality and my fifteen year old car. I'm sorry I passed judgment on you prematurely and questioned your sanity for buying a convertible and living in Indiana. If only we could put the top down, then my life would be complete."

"Are you in a hurry to get home?"

"No, not really. What's up?"

"Keep straight instead of turning off. Head south on the interstate."

"Where are we going?"

He smiled. "You'll see."

I did as instructed, continuing down the highway instead of turning off to head back home. Within minutes, we were merging on to the interstate, southbound toward Indianapolis. I quickly learned that interstate speeds were even more satisfying than highway ones.

A few miles down the road, he instructed me to take the next exit. I did what I was told. He explained to me that another interstate had been built to effectively bypass driving through Fort Wayne and dealing with all the traffic that entailed. This new interstate more or less created a circle around the city. The whole concept reminded me of the Indy highway system.

Once on this stretch of interstate, I realized why he had directed me here. Before me stretched miles of road, not a soul around us.

"Now," he said, "you can go as fast as you want."

"Really?"

"Really."

"But what if I get caught?"

"You won't." He pointed to the radar detector I had neglected to notice until now.

Feeling brave, I smiled and accelerated. The car responded quickly, practically begging me to go faster. Throwing all caution to the wind, I complied. It was an amazing feeling to be out there, driving in the middle of the night, watching the mile markers zoom past like I had never seen before.

"Good job. Just keep your eyes on the road and don't look down."

"Why not?"

"Because if you realize how fast you are going, you'll freak."

"How fast am I going?"

"Promise me you won't slam on the brakes. You'll kill us if you do."

"Fine. I promise."

"One hundred and twenty."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

At that point, I was sufficiently scared. I took my foot off the gas and felt the car gradually slow.

"You're very right. I freaked."

"You did awesome, Lauren. Very impressive."

"Thank you. You have an awesome car."

"I know."

We laughed, giddy from the adrenaline rush. I had honestly never done anything that reckless before in my life. My head was well aware that so many things could have gone wrong, but they hadn't. An animal could have darted across the road. I could have been distracted and easily steered us to our deaths. But I hadn't. It was like a roller coaster ride where I was the operator, the one in control.

For the rest of the drive, I went exactly the speed limit, not wanting to press my luck. We talked easily about plans for the upcoming holiday meal. Even though we had extended our drive quite a bit, our time together seemed to pass by quickly. Before I knew it, I was pulling into my driveway.

A quick glance at the dash confirmed that it was now eleven at night. Blake was still up; the amount of lights on in the house told me that. Semi-reluctantly, I climbed out of the car. Matthew followed behind me, apparently deciding that he would come inside for a while. I still had his keys in my hand. Since they were convenient, I unlocked the front door with his key.

Blake was sitting on the sofa watching TV. She flipped off the television when she heard us come in. Her athletic frame rose from the couch to meet us at the door.

"Hey, you two," she greeted warmly, "how did tonight go?"

"Good," I said, "I think Thanksgiving will be awesome. You were absolutely right about his kitchen. I am so jealous."

"Of that and some other things," Matthew added with a grin. He gave me a playful nudge. "Are you forgetting something, gorgeous?"

"Oh, right." I handed him his keys.

Blake stared at our exchange. Her expression shifted suddenly. In the span of seconds, she had gone from warm and friendly to cold and icy. I had no idea why. Matthew seemed oblivious.

"So, we'll talk about everything later, okay?" I asked, turning to him.

"Yeah, sounds good. Have a good night, sweetheart."

"Night, dork." Blake interjected.

"Night, sunshine."

With that, he was gone. As I closed the door behind him, I wondered if it was too late to take off running after him. The looks that Blake shot my way were anything but encouraging.

"What?" I asked.

"Did you drive his car?"

I was almost afraid to answer, the way she glared at me. I lowered my eyes and responded in the affirmative.

"Shit."

That word sure was being thrown around a lot tonight.

"What?" I asked again.

"If you hurt him, I swear to God, you will never hear the end of it."

"Huh? I'm actually a pretty good driver. Ask him."

"He never lets anybody drive his car."

"You can't tell me that you haven't driven the Mustang."

"I have, but that's beside the point. I'm his sister. We're practically like the same person born three years apart."

"I'm still not following."

"He is so crushing on you, Lauren. Hello, obvious."

The color drained completely from my face. I shook my head, unbelieving.

"It's just a car. It's not a big deal."

Well, maybe that on its own. When you coupled it with dinner alone at his place and being held in his arms for countless minutes, it began to sound more and more plausible. More and more like something that Eric would be jealous of.

Blake snorted. "Guys and their cars. It is a big deal. It's like this huge commitment thing. I bet Eric took a while before he let you drive his car."

"I'm still waiting for that day."

"Really? Face it, my brother has a massive crush on you. And although this could make for an interesting Thanksgiving, it's Matthew we're talking about. I have to look out for him. Don't start walking down a path that you can't continue. It would shatter him."

I swallowed hard. What could I say to that? Instead, I nodded mutely.

"Now, it's late and I'm going to bed. Have a good night."

"Thanks. You, too," I managed to choke.

She turned on her heel and headed to her bedroom. I retreated to mine, flipping off lights as I went. Her words echoed in my head, making my blood run ice cold. Was it that obvious? Eric had sensed something just in the way I had defended Matthew; what would he do when he saw us together in the flesh? I hoped that Matthew would tune down the flirting in front of my boyfriend and father, but if it was that apparent would that do any good?

Blake knew him better than anyone else, I reasoned. Maybe she could pick out clues that others wouldn't notice. I reminded myself that she had already called me out on my own feelings for her brother. She had caught me on a few too many occasions staring at him more intently than would be considered polite. I thought I had done okay deflecting her inquiries, maybe not. Just because she had stopped asking didn't mean that she hadn't put two and two together. She seemed pretty intuitive even without knowing about my dream.

Matthew wasn't the only one with a massive crush.

But crushes were harmless unless they were acted upon.

Right?

We hadn't yet crossed the line, had we?

My mind raced as I climbed into bed. I closed my eyes, attempting to rid my mind of images of him. I tried to forget the sound of his laughter, the look in his eyes, the strength of his arms as they held me.

I tried fruitlessly to remember what it felt like to be happy with Eric.

Things were just intensified with Matthew because he was new. That was it. When Eric and I had first met, I was just as breathless over him. Eric and I had settled into the realm of being comfortable with one another. Ten years together had bred familiarity, of which there was nothing wrong. We had experienced so much together, everything seemed safe. Predictable.

I had to stop putting Matthew on a pedestal. He would be the first to tell me that he didn't deserve it. He was only human, not something that dreams were made out of. I would show him that he was worthy of being loved, and send him off into the arms of some other lucky girl. We would live happily ever after with our respective matches. We were friends, nothing more. There would never be more.

I needed to come up with a plan to end this infatuation. Perhaps if I was the one that assisted in finding this lucky girl, it would be an easier pill to swallow. Sort of like putting my blessing on their relationship. If I could find someone worthy of him, then I could stop dreaming of what could have been.

My eyes snapped open with an idea. Gracie. True, there would be an age difference to contend with as well as a physical distance. But those weren't insurmountable. She already knew about his legal issues, and she had barely batted an eye. She would undoubtedly approve of the outer package as well. They were already going to meet in a few short days. They were two of my favorite people. If sparks flew between the two of them, it would solve everything. I just had to make it happen.

I fell asleep to visions of speeding down a dark, deserted highway. I was traveling so fast I couldn't make sense of what way I was headed. I spun in all directions, looking for clues, but I was totally alone. I felt like I was running. Whether it was away from something or towards another remained to be seen. I had not a clue.

#### Chapter Sixteen

Thanksgiving rolled around not a moment too soon. Preparations for the big day had consumed every waking moment I wasn't at work. Between poring over cookbooks for menu ideas and brainstorming with Blake on decorations, my brain was tired. I was glad to be occupied; it kept me from thinking about my irrational feelings for Matthew.

I had purposefully kept my distance from him these past few days. Of course planning a holiday event at his home required a couple more visits to the scene of the crime, but Blake always accompanied me. I made sure never to be alone in the same room with him. Or maybe Blake made sure of that and gave me the illusion that it was my idea. Whatever is was, it worked. We exchanged polite banter but nothing more.

I needed to distance myself from him if this whole matchmaking deal with Gracie was going to have any hope of working. I couldn't think of him as anything other than a good friend. I had to swallow down the lump in my throat that formed whenever I thought of him dating anyone.

Even if things didn't work out with Gracie, it would still be good for him to interact with an attractive, single female for a change. In any case, it would supply me with a barometer for how he acted around other women that he wasn't related to. If he flirted with Gracie and quickly gave her a pet name, I would know it was just his nature and that I wasn't anything special. I wasn't sure that I didn't want to be special. It was flattering to be special.

I hadn't told either of them about the potential setup. Better to let it happen organically. Obviously, it wouldn't be a surprise for her to show up at his door. She had already been an invited guest. I didn't worry about Gracie not being on the top of her game; she rarely left the house without fashionable clothes, shoes and full hair and makeup. I knew she would look like her perfect self. I would merely arrange for them to sit next to each other at dinner and let it go from there.

Blake and I arrived at Matthew's bright and early that Thursday morning, arms laden with bags of groceries and decorations. I knew that Blake could have decorated previously; she was just looking for an excuse to be our chaperone of sorts. The plan was to run over, start the turkey and head back to our place to get ready. Matthew had graciously volunteered to start some of the side dishes if we didn't make it back soon enough. I was going to humor him by allowing him to do some simple tasks. My Type A personality in the kitchen wouldn't permit me to let him ruin this for me, even with good intentions.

After we had unloaded the groceries in the kitchen, Blake called me back out to the driveway to help with decorations. She was serious about the supervision thing. Because I was concerned that our guests would drive past the house, she had come up with the idea of decorating the mailbox. It was pretty inventive, really, to make it look like a cornucopia. She wrapped the pole in rich, fall colored ribbons and instructed me on where to place the gourds that she had purchased. If that wasn't an adequate landmark, I wasn't sure what was.

We trudged back up the paved driveway, our breath visible in the chilly morning air. It was going to be a beautiful fall day. I had been concerned with the forecast, my fingers crossed that we wouldn't see an early blizzard. Indiana weather was anything but predictable. I could just imagine the complaining I would be subjected to if Eric had to drive his precious sedan in ice and snow to come over to Matthew's house.

By the time we made it to the house, I was grateful for the warm air that greeted us as we stepped inside. One perk to Blake accompanying me here was that I didn't have to ring the doorbell. We just walked inside like we owned the place. For Blake, this was her home away from home. After all, she had lived here up until six months ago. She obviously didn't yet feel like she was invading his privacy. During the tour Matthew had given me the other night, he had shown me her old bedroom. It remained untouched, as though any moment she could move back in.

Matthew had preheated the oven and was working on putting the turkey in one of those aluminum pans that one bought only at Thanksgiving. Clad in sweats, he barely looked awake. His hair was more unruly than usual. He wore black, thick-rimmed glasses. Those gave me pause. I hadn't considered the fact that he wore contacts, though I knew Blake did. It was a silly observation to make such a big deal over, but I felt a little slighted that I didn't know this already. And more than a little bothered that they made him attractive in a whole new imperfect way.

He looked up at us as we entered the kitchen and smiled widely, stifling a yawn.

"I haven't ruined anything yet," he reported proudly.

"Good job," I said brightly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Blake rolling her eyes.

"Just wait," she muttered under her breath.

There was so much that I could read into that comment. I stared at her, waiting for an explanation that wasn't going to come. Shrugging it off, I crossed the kitchen to stand by Matthew's side. I busied myself opening my cookbooks to pages I had already dog eared. As I scanned the recipes looking for things that could be assembled ahead of time for Matthew to tend to later, I saw Blake hovering out of the corner of my eye. She tried her best to look engrossed in setting up the centerpiece on the dining room table, conveniently never putting us out of her line of sight.

"What's with her?" Matthew whispered.

"Full of holiday spirit," I lied softly. If he didn't know what was up, I certainly wasn't going to fill him in. Apparently, I was the only one getting read the riot act.

"Whatever. She doesn't have anything to be nervous about. She's been kind of odd lately."

I nodded. "I noticed, too. Maybe she's just going into ultimate party planner mode?"

"Or something."

"You'll do fine," I said suddenly, addressing the unspoken. Instinctively, I started to reach for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly but pulled back. That was all Blake needed to witness. I placed my offending hand instead on my hip, willing it to stay.

"I wish I had your faith in me."

His words saddened me. I closed my eyes to blink back tears. "I wish you did too."

"If at any time today you change your mind about keying the BMW, let me know."

His abrupt subject change made me laugh out loud. Blake looked up at us, trying to figure out what was so funny. Until then, our entire conversation had been in hushed tones, so try as she might, she couldn't eavesdrop. Figuring we were getting a little too friendly, she decided the rest of the decorations could wait until we returned.

"Ready to go, Lauren?" she called out.

Matthew and I exchanged a guilty glance, akin to getting called out in the middle of class for talking by the teacher. I grinned at him and he returned the favor.

"Guess my ride's leaving."

"Guess so. Hurry back."

"Don't worry. I don't trust you that much in the kitchen."

"Hey, you shouldn't insult the host."

He swatted my shoulder playfully. I raised my arm to retaliate, stopped only by Blake clearing her throat. She raised her eyebrow at me, silently berating me.

"Are we ready?" she smirked, twirling her key ring upon her finger.

"Yes, Blake," I replied in a sing song fashion. I had almost referred to her as "Mom", but decided to bite my tongue instead. This was undoubtedly a good call. Considering their mother issues and mine to a lesser extent, this was probably not the best course of action, even in a good natured tone.

"We'll be back," Blake announced unnecessarily, practically pushing me out the front door.

I made no move to argue. Instead, I looked back in Matthew's general direction and rolled my eyes. He caught my look and nodded. Just in case Blake was watching, he quickly got back to work, staring down into one of the cookbooks intently. I smirked as I followed her down the sidewalk and to the Miata.

Safely inside the vehicle, I turned to my friend. Like both myself and Matthew, her look was decidedly casual. The siblings pulled it off better than I could ever dream of doing. Even in sweats and a face devoid of makeup, she was stunning. And frowning. Her lips remained in the sour expression even as we headed out of the driveway and towards home. I sighed.

"What?" I asked.

She shrugged. Apparently, she wasn't eager to give a voice to the words I already knew were about to come. She fixed her eyes on the road, staring straight ahead.

"I haven't done anything wrong," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. "I am just being friendly. Matthew and I are friends. He has invited my boyfriend to his house for Thanksgiving dinner."

"Indirectly."

"Okay, fine. I have invited my boyfriend to his house for Thanksgiving dinner. We are both aware of the fact that I am very much taken. This does not mean that we cannot play around and have fun together. It does not mean that we need to be chaperoned every second that we are together. We are responsible adults. Nothing unsavory is going to happen."

Blake gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. "Are you two really that oblivious to what is going on?"

"What exactly is going on?"

"The two of you are so attracted to each other, it's ridiculous. The way you tease each other. The way you talk to each other. The way you flirt back and forth. It would all be very endearing if you were actually boyfriend and girlfriend. But you're not. And I don't want to see either one of you get hurt."

"I appreciate your concern, but you have nothing to worry about. We are good friends. That's it. He's never tried to make anything more of it. Just because I've driven the Mustang and we smile and laugh doesn't mean that any deep feelings will ever blossom. Yes, he is undeniably hot. He can't do anything about it. And if you're sensing some attraction on his part, I'm sure whatever lust you think is going on will be over once he meets Eric. Maybe when you realize that my boyfriend is not a figment of someone's imagination, you'll feel better."

"I know my brother better than anyone, Lauren," she said softly. "Don't discount that."

"Blake, I'm not trying to argue here. I think that Matthew is a wonderful person. And that I was brought into your lives for a reason. But it's not to start a relationship with him. It's to show him that he can be forgiven for his actions. That other people can be accepting of his past even if his own parents aren't. I'm sorry for the both of you and what has happened. But he has to forgive himself before he can ever expect anyone else to get past it."

"So what are we going to do?"

"About?"

"About this connection between the two of you that I may or may not be imagining? What if I'm right, Lauren, and he does have feelings for you? Just play along for a second."

"Like I said, my boyfriend is coming for a visit today. If anything is brewing, that will stop it in its tracks. Eric will be on his best behavior, and I'm sure, in front of an audience, he will act like the best boyfriend ever. If – and this is a huge if – if Matthew was having impure thoughts, he would have to bury those. He's an honorable kind of guy. He wouldn't do the cheating thing. He wouldn't put me in that position."

"Or he'll fight for you even harder."

"Your optimism is staggering. Besides, he may be preoccupied anyway."

It was Blake's turn to ask what I was referring to. I debated how much I wanted to tell her prior to setting my plan in motion. I looked down at my freshly manicured nails and chewed on my lip.

"Lauren?"

"My best friend is single, Blake. She is also attending today."

"You wouldn't."

I couldn't tell if Blake was upset with me, or if she was going to be a willing coconspirator. I shrugged, turning to look out the window. We were just pulling into our driveway. The remainder of the conversation would have to wait. We both needed to shower and get ready. Even though we still had a few hours left before the Indianapolis crew was set to arrive, I knew how easily time could get away from you.

We parted ways at the stairs to the loft without another word. She no longer looked upset, which was a plus. I wondered how much of that had to do with her feeling at ease, and how much was her professional demeanor. I knew for a fact that she took great pride in her work. Since she had singlehandedly decorated her brother's house, her talents would be on display. I knew she wanted to impress today for a number of reasons, maybe more so than even I did.

I took an extra hot shower, letting the steaming water pound down against my skin. As I shampooed my hair, I contemplated what Blake had said. All along I had figured I was reading too much into Matthew's actions. Now she had indicated they caught her attention as well. I wasn't sure if I should feel flattered or scared.

She was convinced that she had her brother pegged, but I had done my best to mask my own feelings. Sure, she had caught me checking him out a couple times, but that wasn't atypical, even for someone in a committed relationship. I had to look at him, right? I couldn't change the fact that I liked what I saw. She had accused me of being attracted to him just now, but I had covered that up pretty well. Or so I thought. If I were to tell her about the dream I had in Indy, she would absolutely flip.

I stood in front of my closet debating on what to wear. Holidays typically weren't a big dress up occasion as far as I was concerned. I dressed up all of the time for work, anyway. I wanted to be comfortable on my days off. I settled on a pair of khaki colored denim pants paired with a chocolate brown sweater. Ever the shoe person, I completed the look with a pair of platform ankle boots. I rarely left home without my tall shoes. I needed as much help in the height department as I could get.

I made sure my hair and makeup were impeccable. Though I was silently freaking out on the inside, no one would be the wiser due to my appearance. According to the mirror, I was perfectly pulled together. I smiled at my reflection, hoping to instill confidence in myself.

As I waited for Blake to finish up, I sank down onto the sofa and checked my cell. So far, so good. No missed calls. No frantic texts from Eric that he was at the airport somewhere and truly was sorry that he had to cancel. Although it was very unlikely that he could come up with a feasible work excuse to miss out on today, I had been afraid he would try. In a moment of neediness, I texted him instead.

Can't wait to see you.

I wasn't sure what exactly prompted the clingy me to make an appearance. The sentiment, simple enough. I hadn't seen him in the flesh since the disastrous weekend where I had effectively walked out on him. We had put that behind us as much as you could without actually being in the same location. Just like all of our arguments, the emotions behind them dulled with time and distance. We moved on like we always did. We pretended that nothing bad happened; that we were the perfect couple.

_Same here. Leaving in about an hour_.

His reply rang hollow, though it said all the right things. I wasn't sure what response I had been expecting. I felt like he was taking the easy way out, just repeating what I had said and including his itinerary. Just once I wanted him to show some real affection, not the plastic type he was so used to doling out in the sales world.

Blake emerged from her bedroom. She spied me turning my phone over and over in my hands and assumed the worst. To be honest, I couldn't blame her. Eric didn't have the best track record.

"Don't tell me he's not coming."

"No," I shook my head, "he's leaving in about an hour. I'm just nervous, that's all."

Relief washed over her face. Apparently, she could deal with nervousness. If I were to begin sobbing hysterically, that was a different story.

"Good. Let's go back."

She picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. She had chosen an emerald green sweater over black pants for the festivities. Slightly dressy but not out of place no matter the attire of the rest of the guests. Her blond hair was stick straight and pulled half up, half down, the blue streak prominent. Before me stood someone so sure of herself, so confident in her personality, that she had that air of being comfortable in every situation. She didn't hide who she was, her quirkiness, from anyone. I wondered why Matthew hadn't learned that lesson from her.

"Who's driving?" I asked as I grabbed my own purse.

"I can."

I felt guilty for letting her drive everywhere, but I supposed that if I was used to driving something red and shiny that I wouldn't want to ride with me, either. Maybe she would let me volunteer once the snow started flying in earnest. My car likely handled better, and if it found its way into a ditch, it wasn't a huge loss. Then again, I could see her just as easily bringing home the SUV she drove for her design studio and parking the convertible for the season.

Back in the car, I wondered if we would resume our previous conversation. The first couple of minutes were spent in silence. I wasn't about to offer up any more information without being asked. I busied myself by digging in my purse for some lip balm, even though my makeup was freshly applied. My attempt to look occupied was all for nothing anyway. Blake kept her eyes on the road as if she were alone in the vehicle. When she did speak, I quite possibly would have hit my head against the convertible top had I not been fastened down with the seatbelt.

"So, this friend of yours-"

"Gracie?"

"Gracie. Isn't she younger than us?"

"Yeah. She's twenty-three."

"Matthew's about to turn thirty. A bit of a difference there."

I shrugged. "I've considered that also. As well as the distance part. But none of it's a deal breaker, right?"

"You are the poster child for a successful long distance relationship. I'd consider you the expert."

"If you're not going to say something nice," I warned. Blake stuck out her tongue at me. "Very mature."

"I'm just going to give you one piece of advice. Think before you do this. If something comes out of this, you will be the hero as long as things are going well. And you will have to live with the jealousy that comes with the territory of setting up someone you are crushing on with someone else. If things head south, you've just put yourself in an awkward position. You will forever be the person in the middle. Whose side will you choose then? It's tough when your inner circle starts hooking up. Trust me."

"They haven't even met yet and we are already planning their demise. Things may never get to that point anyway. Besides, it was just a fleeting thought."

"Because if you can't have him, you want to choose who he is with?"

I looked away, staring out the window at nothing in particular. My silence confirmed her theory. I felt her hand squeeze my shoulder.

"I have a boyfriend," I whispered.

"I know," she said, "and that's another reason not to do this."

I turned back to her, determined not to ruin my eyeliner and mascara with a few errant tears.

"You know, I admire you for your resolve. You have tried and tried to make this relationship with Eric work. You love him. You stand by him. But are you in love with him anymore?"

She didn't expect me to answer. The question was rhetorical in nature. Even if she had been waiting for a response, I wasn't sure that I was capable of forming words. Instead, goosebumps formed on my arms, and I wrapped them around myself, grateful for the warmth of my sweater.

As we pulled into Matthew's driveway, she offered one last piece of wisdom.

"Life is too short to have regrets."

#### Chapter Seventeen

It was game time. As the oven timer counted down, the finishing touches put on our carefully laid plans, my stomach continued to twist in knots. Any minute now, the doorbell would ring and the Indianapolis quotient of our party would arrive, ready to pass their judgment. I began to second guess everything, even though it was all perfect.

The last couple of hours had been a flurry of activity. I would never have been able to pull off an event of this magnitude without Blake and Matthew's help. After our interesting talk in the car, Blake had left Matthew and me to our own devices. She had stayed out of our way, keeping busy with flitting about the house and making sure everything was picture perfect. Apparently, she felt as though she had given me enough to think about. I would be way too occupied with my own thoughts to even consider flirting.

Matthew had surprised me by handling every task I had given him with perfection. No matter how much he joked about being the typical bachelor, there was hope for him. His future didn't have to consist of microwave popcorn and TV dinners. I told him that I would teach him some basics and we could go from there. Since he was over at my place for dinner more often than not, it would be simple to squeeze in some cooking lessons. He agreed, but I wasn't sure if he was just humoring me or not.

As we worked together, I studied him discreetly. During the time that Blake and I had gone back to our place, he had showered and changed. Gone were the glasses, though his face was still unshaven. Normally, I didn't like scruffy, but on him, the five o'clock shadow worked. His blond hair was characteristically unruly, threatening to fall into his piercing blue eyes. He was as dressed up as I had ever seen him; over his jeans he had layered a white dress shirt and a black sweater. The shirt remained untucked and peeked out from underneath. He looked like a celebrity, stylish in a way that mere mortals couldn't be from the top of his head to the bottom of his black combat boots.

Whoever won his heart would be insanely lucky.

A chill shot down my spine, and I shuddered at the thought.

"It's okay; I'm nervous too," he admitted, mistaking my action.

I smiled up at him. Our eyes met and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Happy Thanksgiving," I whispered. "No matter what happens today, I am thankful for meeting you and the friendship that you've given me."

He reached across the countertop and grabbed my hand. "Happy Thanksgiving, gorgeous. One day I hope I will be the person you think I already am. Sometimes when we are together, I forget that I'm not and I almost start believing it myself."

I laced my fingers around his and squeezed. Holding his hand felt like one of the most natural things in the world. Our hands rested against the cold concrete, but I felt no chill. I was only aware of the warmth of his touch. His eyes searched mine, looking for answers to whatever nameless questions were swirling in his head. His lips parted momentarily as if he were going to say something further, then closed as he thought better of it.

The doorbell sounded. Matthew snatched his hand away from mine as if it had suddenly been set ablaze. I stood, frozen, waiting for someone to answer it. Blake had seemingly disappeared, and Matthew made no move toward it, either.

"Go on," he said, "it's for you anyway."

I shrugged. It felt odd to answer his door like I belonged here, but if that's what he wanted, then so be it. I took a deep breath, raked my fingers through my pixie cut, and trudged out to the foyer. Matthew's front door was massive, actually two large wooden doors that when thrown open created a rather spectacular entrance. Whoever was waiting on the porch couldn't be seen from my position, so I had no idea if I would come face to face with Eric or my dad and Gracie first. Maybe they had waited for one another in the driveway, and they would all three be standing there.

I swung open the right hand door and revealed Gracie and my father.

"Lauren!" she squealed, "It's so good to see you!"

"I missed you so much!" I replied as enthusiastically as I could muster. Gracie engulfed me in a hug like we hadn't seen each other in years, not weeks, and I took the opportunity to roll my eyes at my dad. Gracie was, if nothing else, dramatic. My dad shook his head and smiled.

"Come on in, it's cold out here," I prompted.

They obliged, and I closed the door behind them. Still no sign of Eric. Blake had emerged during all the commotion, and she stood politely by my side as I gathered their coats and hung them up in the closet. Once that task was completed, I gestured to my roommate.

"This is Blake Snyder. Blake, meet Gracie Alexander and my dad, Doug Jefferies."

Blake extended her hand and greeted my guests warmly. I could easily see from her friendly demeanor how clients would open up both their homes and pocketbooks to her. She was the kind who acted as if she had never met a stranger. The small amount she had let me know about her past all made sense. I could so see her being the cheerleader type, the most popular girl at school. The beauty that had it all, that everyone would love to hate if only she weren't so damn nice.

Her eyes lingered over Gracie appraisingly. I was certain I was the only one who noticed. My friend was babbling on incessantly about everything from work to the latest party she had been to, and my head was spinning from her rapid fire commentary. Given the conversation that had taken place before her arrival, I couldn't blame my roommate for sizing her up. Anyone who was so protective of her sibling would do the same thing.

I took in Gracie's appearance myself, trying to see her with virgin eyes. She was a knockout with her pale skin, brown eyes and silky jet black hair that traveled down her back. She wore an oversized cream cable knit sweater over a pair of skin tight jeans. Her jeans were barely visible, tucked inside her over the knee black suede boots. Classic Gracie style. From holidays to clubbing, she basically looked the same.

"I love your hair," Gracie gushed to Blake, "I could never get away with that at the bank."

Blake smiled. "Chalk up another advantage to being self-employed."

The oven timer went off and I heard Matthew take the turkey out.

"You guys showed up right on time," I said, motioning them to follow me. "We just finished up with everything."

"It smells wonderful, dear," my father enthused.

"Thanks. I had a lot of help."

We gathered in the entrance to the kitchen and I exchanged a look with Matthew. I tried to convey as much encouragement as I could with my eyes. Outwardly he looked nonchalant, but internally, I knew he was about ready to vomit. He was so convinced that everyone he came upon would hate him that it was impossible for him to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. Seeing that fleeting glance cross his handsome features made me hate his parents intently for ever creating that fear. No one should ever do that to their child, no matter what their mistakes.

"Everyone, this is Matthew Snyder, Blake's brother. He graciously let me invade his house today, and he's not bad at taking orders, either."

Matthew wiped his hands on a towel prior to coming out from behind the counter. I introduced him to my father first, then to Gracie. He also extended his hand, though not with the same confidence as his sister. It was of no bother to either of our guests, who treated him like family anyway. Gracie turned to me and mouthed the words "Oh. My. God." and "Upgrade." I jabbed my elbow in her side.

"Ow," she whispered.

"Be good," I hissed under my breath.

Blake smirked. She had caught the whole thing. I blushed, but the ringing doorbell allowed me to leave one awkward situation for another. Eric had arrived. I turned back to the foyer, leaving the four others to make small talk while I greeted my boyfriend.

My heart threatened to leap out of my throat as I contemplated the reaction he'd have when I opened the door. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. I placed my shaking hand on the doorknob and pulled it open with more than a little hesitation.

Eric stood on the front porch, his arm propped against the side of the house. I wasn't sure if he was trying to look cool, or like he owned the place or what, but his swagger didn't impress me. He took me in hungrily with his eyes upon first glance. I wished I could say it was with longing or adoration, but it smacked more of possession than anything else. We stood there silently for a moment before I stepped aside to let him in.

"Did you find the place okay?" I asked as I grabbed his coat and placed it in the closet.

"Yes," he responded matter-of-factly, "I have GPS. But why anyone would want to live out in the middle of nowhere is beyond me."

"This place is like fifteen minutes away from the interstate. That's hardly the middle of nowhere. There's more to life than high rises downtown, you know."

"To each his own, I guess."

"Eric," I warned, "please be nice."

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Within the first ten minutes of my guests arriving, I had already had to warn two of them to be on their best behavior. My father was the only one I didn't have to worry about babysitting. I supposed Gracie was relatively harmless as well; I only had to keep her from carrying on about how hot Matthew was. As if I didn't realize that already. I should have been happy that she was so impressed, but the way she had referred to him as an upgrade made me think she was looking at him for me and not her.

Damn it, everyone. I had a boyfriend. Belligerent as he could be at times, Eric was still my boyfriend. If everyone would stop fantasizing about setting me up with Matthew, then maybe my thoughts wouldn't drift that way as well.

I grabbed Eric's wrist and drug him into the kitchen. Everyone stopped talking when we appeared.

"Oh, yay, Eric's here," Gracie drawled.

Matthew choked on his laughter. As he had alluded to the other night in the car, I could see that he would have no problems getting along with her. While it would be rude at this point for him to make a snide remark, he was obviously living vicariously through her disdain.

Blake moved into action to further cover up her brother's amusement. "Nice to meet you. I'm Blake."

She stepped forward and offered her hand. Eric accepted it stiffly.

"Eric Parker," he replied formally, as if he were meeting with a prospect instead of his girlfriend's roommate. Everything about him was rigid and fake, from his personality to the way he was dressed. He appeared to have come straight from closing a deal, leaving his suit jacket and tie in the car. His dress shirt and pants were perfectly pressed, his black shoes shiny and unscuffed as though they had yet to see the light of day.

"And this is my brother, Matthew," Blake continued, unphased.

Matthew nodded at Eric and made no move to step forward or acknowledge his presence further. Eric slid his hand out of Blake's grip and thrust it into his pocket. The feeling was mutual. The knot in my stomach tightened.

"Well," I said, "the food's all ready, so let's take a seat in the dining room."

Because the dining room adjoined the kitchen, I clearly didn't need to lead anyone toward it. Gracie trailed alongside me, eager to supply her running commentary. "Someone's being a dick."

"It's a little awkward for everyone, yes." I admitted.

"When are you going to stop sticking up for him? He doesn't deserve it."

Don't cry for him. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve you.

Matthew's words from the night he had found me sprawled on the couch echoed in my head. Hearing the same sentiment from someone else took me back to that night. I remembered the complete feeling of utter desolation, the way Eric had blown it off as if it were a minor offense. The way Matthew had cradled me in his arms, silently providing me with a shoulder to cry on. He had canceled his plans to take care of someone he was afraid hated him.

"Lauren?" Gracie asked, interrupting my reverie.

I jumped to attention. "What?"

"You were miles away, hon. What's the seating arrangement look like?"

Thankfully, I had already committed this to memory. I was able to rattle off place settings without thought. With our group of six, I thought it best that I sit between Eric and my dad. Opposite us would be Blake, Matthew and Gracie. Of course, Matthew and I would end up seated across from one another. I swore I hadn't done that for selfish reasons, merely so I could provide encouragement and be a fly on the wall if there was in fact a connection between him and Gracie. The arrangement left Blake with the short straw, sitting across from Eric, but of anyone here she could handle it best. I certainly wouldn't place him across from Gracie. They'd likely start a food fight with one another.

We had set the food up buffet style rather than take everything to the table. As honorary hostess, I lingered as everyone piled their plates high with food and tried to get a general feel for the dynamic in the room. So far, everyone was playing nice and more or less ignoring Eric, who stood scowling as he waited to serve himself some mashed potatoes. When dishes were full and everyone was making their way back to their assigned seats, I took the opportunity to plate my own food.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Matthew pull out Gracie's chair for her. Such a simple gesture, but totally swoon-worthy. I half expected Eric to do the same for me just to compete, but he stayed seated as I neared the table. I hovered behind his chair momentarily, even subtly clearing my throat. Still, he paid me no attention. Defeated, I set my plate down and slid into my seat.

I realized that all eyes were on me. Everyone's plate remained untouched, and they all looked at me with anticipation. My stomach twisted even further.

"Lauren," Blake said, taking the lead, "why don't you say a few words before we dig in?"

I shot her a glare and took a deep breath. I hated public speaking, especially when I was put on the spot. As a manager who sometimes had to address her staff in a group setting, it occasionally made my job difficult. Nothing I couldn't hide by swallowing down my fear and just doing it, though. I reminded myself that these were all people I had spent hours talking to and racked my brain for the right words.

"I wasn't really planning on saying anything," I admitted, "so bear with me. Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays, and over the years I have so many good memories of spending time with family and friends. It's always been important to me to share at least this one meal a year with the people that I care about. That, and have an excuse to eat way too much food."

Everyone except for Eric either smiled or chuckled softly. He stared at his plate, his eyes almost glassy; I wondered if he was even listening.

"This year has been full of change for me in particular. So many good things have happened to me that I have even more reasons than usual to be thankful. Because of my promotion, I've had the opportunity to fall in love with a new city and meet some wonderful new friends. So even though there's more distance between some of us now than before, I wasn't willing to give up on that tradition. And out of that stubbornness came the idea for having all of you here, together in the same room. Kind of like my old and new lives combining.

"Even though this was organically my idea, today never would have happened without help from Blake and Matthew. As you may or may not have noticed, Blake is an excellent interior designer and she is responsible for the way everything looks all throughout this house. And Matthew graciously allowed me to come in and take over his kitchen while I bossed him around the last couple days. The two of them have helped keep me sane when I needed it, and it's like I've known both of them for years.

"I wanted all of you to meet each other so that those of you that I've left behind in mileage can see that I've found a good home here. And for the two newest members of my inner circle to be more than just a faceless name to the ones back in Indy. In a way, we're all family now, and I love each and every one of you. That being said, I didn't slave away for nothing. Let's eat."

"That was pretty beautiful for being on the fly, Lauren," my father said, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You make me proud of you every day. I'm so glad that I get to be on this journey with you and watch you emerge into the person I knew you could be. In so many ways, you remind me of your mother."

"I know," I whispered softly, biting my lip to keep from tearing up. It was too late. As my vision blurred, I looked down at my plate. Matthew kicked me under the table. I looked up, surprised.

"Hey," he said, attempting to lighten the mood, "I couldn't have ruined dinner that badly."

I snorted.

"And don't think by inviting us here that I'm not going to demand to see your real house," Gracie chimed in.

"It's close," Blake volunteered. "Maybe we can take a caravan over after a while. I'll admit this was my idea. My darling brother has a better kitchen than I do. And a huge dining room table. But my house is nothing to sneeze at, either."

"The kitchen and the table weren't enough to convince her to stay." Matthew added.

"Nor are they enough to keep you here. I swear you should just move in with us. You're over there all of the time anyway."

Beside me, Eric speared his turkey violently with his fork. So he had been listening. I gave Blake a look of warning, trying to convey with my eyes that the hole she was digging was already deep enough. Thankfully, she caught my drift and fell silent.

"This food is excellent, Lauren," Gracie enthused, "as usual."

"Thanks."

My voice sounded hollow, and it felt as though the room temperature had decreased by about twenty degrees. All I could see was Eric out of the corner of my eye, looking as though he could kill something. Or someone.

As we ate, the table broke off into little pods of conversation. I flitted from group to group, adding in something when it was appropriate. Gracie began talking to my dad about work, then she switched gears and laughed at something Matthew whispered in her ear. I could tell he had an effect on her, as I imagined he did on most members of the opposite sex. However, I couldn't get a good reading on him. Polite, yes. Attracted, not sure. My dad engaged Matthew in a discussion and I tensed, knowing how nervous he had been earlier. I gave him an encouraging look and continued on talking to Blake, not wanting to pry.

No one spoke to Eric nor did he interject in anyone else's conversation. Since he had shown up, he had done very little to contribute to anything around him. He wasn't even trying. He was merely taking up space. My stomach had slowly untwisted and given way to a burning anger.

I hurriedly finished my meal and rose from the table, taking Eric's empty plate along with mine to the sink. Determined to put an end to his stupidity, I stalked back over to the table and tapped his shoulder.

"I need to talk to you in private," I growled into his ear.

He shrugged and pushed his chair back. I led him down the hall and into the guest bathroom, locking the door behind us. I stood there for a moment, glaring at him as I composed my thoughts.

"Well?" he asked cockily.

"What the hell are you doing out there?" I asked quietly, though my tone conveyed anything but softness. I knew that our departure had been noticed, and I didn't want to hamper any progress that might be going on in the other room by holding a knock down drag out fight with my boyfriend.

"My mother always told me that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

"And what is so bad about it here, Eric? Everyone else seems to be doing just fine."

"Apparently everyone else didn't notice that you professed your love to another man at the dinner table. I did."

"Eric, that's not what I meant."

"Sure it's not. You're just friends, right? He's just over at your place all of the time because he loves his sister so much. It has nothing to do with you at all. Right?"

"He's very close with Blake. That didn't change when I moved in."

"Sure. Whatever. Go ahead and defend him. Lord knows you don't defend me."

"Some of your actions are inexcusable."

"I'm not an ex-felon. You'll forgive that when you hang minor offenses over my head? What have I done to you that's worse than the mistakes that asshole made?"

"Eric-"

"Nothing. I've done nothing to that degree. But because he's a pretty face, you forgive him for everything he's ever done. He's the broken and brooding hero of your fairy tale, and I've become the villain."

"Eric, it's not like that."

"What is it like? Don't give me that sob story about you trying to give him redemption. You have no right to act like you're God. Your forgiveness means absolutely nothing. I don't care about his fucked up family life. You can't fix it. You shouldn't even try."

"Eric, calm down," I begged.

His voice had risen to near full volume, and the look in his eyes scared me beyond belief. Never before had I seen him this angry. Though in the ten years we'd been together he hadn't ever been violent towards me, I regretted my decision to lock the door. That was me, the eternal optimist. To think that I could have an intelligent conversation with him about a subject that had already caused me much grief. I backed myself away from him slowly, until I felt the support of the door behind me. Carefully, I reached my hand behind my back and turned the doorknob. The lock popped open, and I nudged the door open just a crack.

"Planning your escape?"

"It's just getting stuffy in here. Borderline claustrophobic."

He grunted, surveying the room. It was obvious I wasn't telling the truth. For a half bath, it was spacious. Swanky even. Like the rest of the home, high end fixtures and decorations abounded. I swallowed hard and placed my hand on the granite countertop for support.

"You're not a good liar, Lauren. Admit it. You're afraid of me. Afraid that this time I'm so pissed at you that I'm going to go off the deep end."

I shook my head even as the bile rose in my throat. I felt the color drain from my cheeks. He crossed the room quickly, closing the distance between us in a few short steps. He had me cornered and he knew it. He pushed the door closed again, placing his hands against it on either side of my head. At least this time it wasn't locked.

"Look at me," he demanded.

Hesitantly, I shifted my gaze to his intense green eyes.

"After all this time, you still don't trust me. You're shaking like a leaf. Do you really think I would lay a hand on you? I would never hurt you."

I winced. "Not physically, at least."

A look of utter torture flashed over his features, but it was gone before I could make sense of it. He removed one hand from the door and brought it to my face. His thumb rubbed my cheek gently. I allowed myself to breathe again, but my body wouldn't relax.

"I thought you wanted to see me," he said quietly.

"I did. I mean, I do."

It was his turn to shake his head. "I wish that were true. And maybe in some little corner of your mind, you really believe that. But the truth is that you invited me into hostile territory. You wanted to take your little stab at me out of revenge. You wanted to show me how wonderful your new life is, and just how fine you are without me. You wanted to twist the knife and show me that I don't fit anymore."

"That's not true, Eric."

"Bullshit."

"Eric, I love you. And we talked about this, how we would make it work. I thought maybe things would be easier if you could just understand where I'm coming from. If you knew that I was safe and happy here."

"I see the way he looks at you, Lauren. And more often than not, you return the favor. You don't think I notice that? I called it before I even met him."

"I've told you that nothing has happened between us and nothing ever will. I love you."

"Keep telling yourself that. If you really, truly, loved me you would have moved in with me. Actions speak louder than words."

"And sometimes I really need to hear those words. I can't remember you ever saying them."

"Lauren,"

We were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Lauren, is everything okay in there?" Gracie asked. The fact that she addressed only me was not lost on Eric. She couldn't care less about him.

"Yeah," I answered shakily, "we'll be out in a minute."

Eric traced the line of my jaw with his thumb. Clearly, he wasn't about to continue his thought. Just when we had been about to make a possible breakthrough, Gracie had come to check on me. Could you be annoyed and thankful all at once? If so, I was there.

"Just remember," Eric whispered, "you are mine."

#### Chapter Eighteen

When I opened the bathroom door, I half expected to knock over Gracie. I wouldn't put it past her to eavesdrop, though with the intensity of our conversation everyone in the house could probably hear what had been said. However, the hallway was empty. Eric trailed behind me as I made my way to find my guests and attempt to salvage the rest of the holiday.

Nothing had been settled between us. If anything, I had made things worse by trying to convince him to be sociable. He had held firm to the opinion that something was happening between Matthew and me, and that something was not innocent. Maybe not to the level of cheating but dangerously close. Even though I had adamantly denied the accusations, upon second glance our actions did seem suspect. Coupled with the conversations I had recently with Blake, I began to see Eric's point.

Still, Matthew and I hadn't done anything wrong. Sure, we had hugged. Yes, he had comforted me when I was upset. True, I had fallen asleep in his arms and he had carried me up to bed. None of those things constituted cheating. They might be bad judgment calls considering the circumstances, but they weren't inherently bad. He would do the same thing for Blake.

Eric had trust issues. For years I had trusted him when he was miles away. There was just as much, if not more, opportunity for him to cheat on me. The thought had crossed my mind several times, though I had no grounds to think it had actually happened. While I gave him the benefit of the doubt, he accused me the moment I moved away. Was it his guilty conscience?

"Please," I whispered, "try to be nice this time. For me?"

He said nothing.

I attempted to sneak into the living room unnoticed. If I could just blend in with the background, maybe it would be as though we had never left. That was easier said than done. Like he had become attuned to my presence, Matthew looked my way just as I entered. Our eyes met for a brief second; he was trying to convey some sort of message, but I couldn't comprehend. He turned back to my dad. They looked deep in conversation. At least something good had come out of this.

Blake and Gracie had retreated to the kitchen to clean up after everyone. In essence, we were effectively paired off, though my partner wasn't exactly appealing at the moment. I considered excusing myself to help the girls. However, that would leave Eric alone with my dad and Matthew, and that didn't seem like the right thing to do, either.

I stood with my back against the wall, feeling conflicted. I didn't belong anywhere in this picture. Ironic, considering that I was the one who had insisted on bringing it all together. As I watched Eric pull his cell out of his pocket, I rethought that sentiment. I had paired myself with the one who didn't belong, branding myself an outcast in the process.

He was connected to that phone like it was his lifeline, but he couldn't pick it up and call me when it was appropriate. He couldn't reach out to me just to say hi, or tell me he loved me. But he could pull it out during holiday dinner and check his voice mail.

"Put it away," I breathed. I felt like I was scolding a child.

"It's getting late," he began.

I crossed my arms over my chest. Here it came, his excuse to leave.

"I have a plane to catch first thing in the morning."

"What?" My response was shrill, louder than I'd intended.

"It's a two hour drive back home, Lauren. I have to be at the airport at six in the morning."

"Who schedules a business trip for the day after Thanksgiving? And when were you going to tell me?"

He looked at me guiltily.

"It's not business, is it?"

He stared at his feet.

"The guys and I are going to Vegas. We work hard, Lauren. We deserve to relax every now and again."

"And I deserve to see you every now and again. Did you think about inviting me? Did you think about telling the guys no? Did you think about just spending the night with me? Going back to my place and acting like you cared about me? Do you ever think about me?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Blake and Gracie come in from the kitchen. My dad and Matthew had stopped talking. All eyes were on us. So we were going to have our knock down drag out fight right here in the middle of everything. All of those emotions had tumbled out of the bathroom and followed us down the hall. It was nothing new to fight with him in front of Gracie, even my dad, but Blake and Matthew had never been exposed to our volatile relationship first hand. The desire to keep it under wraps had left with my increasing anger.

"You have to work tomorrow."

"That is the most feeble excuse you've come up with in a while. I could have taken a vacation day."

"Could you? Or would the entire bank fail without you being there for one day? Don't lie, Lauren, you are just as cutthroat as I am when it comes to your career. You won't back down. If you really cared about me, if you loved me as much as you say you do, you would have told them to keep their promotion. You knew how I felt about it, but you didn't care."

"I knew that you were concerned about getting outclassed by a woman."

I paused, letting my words sink in. Eric continued to stare at the floor.

"If you ever listened to me, you would know how much that promotion meant to me. You would have known that it was always in the works. It was always my goal. But you never listen to me. You can't even look at me. Am I that unattractive to you? You can't even tell me that you love me, and you expect me to follow you to the ends of the earth and depend on you for everything."

"Lauren," he pleaded, finally looking up and realizing that we were the center of attention, "let's finish this at home."

Clearly, home to him did not mean Blake's place.

"No." I folded my arms across my chest, feeling like a petulant teenager. If I wasn't so upset, I'd be embarrassed by my behavior. "Fort Wayne is my home now, and you need to accept it."

"You are so quick to forget where you came from. Of who you left behind."

"You left me behind a long time ago, Eric. I have tried ever since college to keep this going, and you don't help me at all. If it were up to you, you would have kicked me to the curb a long time ago. I am the only one who actually tries at this. You just buy me shit. I'm never going to be happy being your whore."

"And you trying involves playing house with the first fucking loser you come across?"

His words hung in the air. I winced, unable to make a sound, unable to breathe. Eric grabbed for my arm, his fingers encircling my wrist. I wasn't sure of his intentions, but his eyes were dark and his grip firm. I tried to yank free, but his hold tightened to the point of hurting. A small whimper escaped my lips. Terrified, I clenched my eyes shut.

"Let her go." Matthew's voice was low, but his tone firm. From the sound of it, he was also standing very near us. I wondered how he had crossed the room so quickly. Even though time had seemed to stand still, I was certain that mere seconds had elapsed since the most damaging outburst.

"My relationship with Lauren doesn't concern you."

Eric had regained his composure, and he released me. I opened my eyes as my arm fell back to my side. I staggered backwards slightly, and Matthew took the opportunity to move between us. Gracie pulled me back further, wrapping her arm around me.

"You okay?" she whispered. I nodded. Eric hadn't grabbed me hard enough to leave a mark. I shuddered to think what would have happened if things had been allowed to escalate.

"I beg to differ," Matthew said, unaffected by Eric's statement. "Your relationship with Lauren became my concern the night I cleaned up your fucking mess."

Oh, shit. I had been too quick to assume that things would end peacefully. I knew what was coming next, at least generally, and it wouldn't make Eric's suspicions of me cheating on him lessen. I looked behind me to catch Blake's eye. She stood rigid, the only other one in the room who knew the whole story.

"You didn't see her the night that you ditched her. You didn't see how broken you left her. You weren't there with her when she cried herself to sleep. I was. Who's the fucking loser now?"

Eric made a move towards Matthew, as if he were going to strike. Even though they looked each other eye to eye, it wouldn't be a fair fight by any means. An ex-football star who would have had a college scholarship if things had gone differently against a scrawny insurance salesman. There was no question who would be the victor.

Matthew smirked, knowing he had the upper hand on more than one count. "I wouldn't."

My dad had finally had enough. He placed his hand on Eric's shoulder, practically dragging him away from Matthew. Thankfully, Eric had enough respect for him to not fight him off. Blake swooped in and pulled Matthew back, shooting him a disapproving glare.

"You want to change your story now?" Eric spat at me. "Now that the truth is out?"

"Nothing happened. I promise. He only stayed until Blake came home. He didn't spend the whole night."

"Just part of it, then? Because that makes it so much better." He shook his head. "You don't need much time to cheat on your boyfriend. Don't lie, Lauren. He saw you upset and took advantage of you. Just tell me the truth. Is he better than me?"

"Nothing happened!" I repeated.

"Whatever. I'm done here. Call me when you're capable of being honest."

With that, he spun on his heel and showed himself out. He announced his departure with the slamming of the front door. We all stood frozen for a few moments, trying to digest what had just taken place. Ever the perennial hostess, I felt it my duty to break the ice.

"So, I guess he won't be joining us on the final leg of the Snyder family home tour."

"My God, Lauren, are you okay?" Matthew asked, striding over to my side.

"I'm fine," I said and meant it.

He lifted the wrist that Eric had grabbed, turning it over in his hand to inspect it himself. As usual, his touch inflicted quite a bit of electricity and I jerked away slightly. He mistook this gesture for pain.

"Really. I'm fine," I said firmly, looking squarely into his concerned eyes.

He let go of my wrist and it fell back gently to my side.

"Look, if you're not up to it, we can drop by your place another time," my dad offered.

I shook my head. "No, the two of you are up here now and there's no time like the present. It looks like the kitchen's all cleaned up, so let's head out. I know Gracie has to work tomorrow, and it's a long drive home for you guys."

"Sounds good to me," Gracie enthused. "I kind of like our party of five better anyway."

"Lauren, why don't you ride back with your dad?" Blake suggested. "I need to have a discussion with my brother."

"Yeah, that's fine," I agreed. I wouldn't want to be a fly in that car.

Apparently, neither did Matthew. "I'll just drive over myself. That way, you don't have to bring me back. I'll take my tongue lashing later, thanks."

"Suit yourself," Blake said.

"I'm really sorry," I said, turning to him, "I should have warned you about what he thought was going on. You fed into it without even knowing."

He shrugged. "It's not a big deal. Let him think what he wants. Something tells me he would anyway."

"And don't think you're off the hook, missy," Blake continued, pointing at me. "Your dad doesn't have to scold you. I will." The look in her eye suggested her amusement, so I wasn't too concerned.

"Gracie," Matthew began, "want to ride with me? I've got a Mustang. I have it on good authority that it's a pretty awesome car."

"Sure, why not?"

My friend shot me a quizzical look over her shoulder as she followed Matthew out to the garage. I shrugged. I had absolutely no clue why he would invite her on a ride. They had seemed pleasant enough at dinner, but I didn't think I had seen any interest on his part. He had to have something up his sleeve. I noted with more than a little pride that he didn't offer to let her drive. Maybe there was something to Blake's theory.

I sighed with relief as I climbed into the passenger seat of Dad's Buick. A giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders just by having that part of the day over. It had gone reasonably well, all things considered. If reasonably well equated to no bloodshed.

"Tough day, huh?" Dad smiled as he started up the car.

"I've had better. Trust me."

I gave him general directions to Blake's as we headed down the driveway. Matthew had taken the lead, Blake behind him and us bringing up the rear. I doubted that we would get separated; traffic seemed fairly light. Still, I hated driving aimlessly and feeling as though I had no idea where I was going. I did it more for my sake than his.

"You know, Eric's had a difficult time with this promotion."

"I know, Dad. And I get that, really I do. I guess he never really considered what would happen when I reached my goal. Our whole relationship has pretty much been focused on him getting what he wants. When it was my turn, he didn't know what to do."

"He does have a pretty crappy way of dealing with it, though."

"And I could have been more tactful in my approach, too. I mean, I tried. I took him into the bathroom to have a private discussion and got nowhere. Gracie interrupted because she was concerned. I guess he wasn't done having his say. And I wasn't about to sit back and just take it."

"I don't think I've ever seen you that assertive in front of him."

I smiled as I looked out the window. Our caravan zoomed past beautiful fall foliage; one of my favorite things about this portion of the city.

"Put me in front of an audience and I get a little feisty. Especially when he brought Matthew into it."

"Matthew seems to be a decent guy. He was beside himself during the whole thing, like he wanted to rescue you. I told him to stay out of it, to let you fight your own battles. But when Eric grabbed you, he couldn't get over there fast enough."

"Eric didn't hurt me. I think I hurt myself more trying to get away. I'm sure it looked worse than it was. But he was mad. I don't think I've ever seen him that upset before."

"Jealousy does that to a guy. Whether warranted or not."

"Dad," I said quickly, "you believe me that nothing has happened between me and Matthew, right?"

He cleared his throat. "I believe you because you have no reason to lie to me about it. But there is this unmistakable chemistry between the two of you."

I sighed again. "That's what I was afraid of."

"If I were in Eric's shoes, I think I might jump to the same conclusion. And that's my honest opinion."

"So what do I do? Walk around and videotape every conversation I have with Matthew? Then when he accuses me of something I can just pull out the surveillance footage?"

Dad laughed. "That seems a little extreme. Just let him cool off a little. When he's got a clearer head, maybe he'll be a little more open to the truth."

"I can't believe Eric accused him of all that and called him a fucking idiot to boot. As much as he tries to act tough, Matthew's so broken inside I can't imagine what that felt like."

"He's gone through a lot, dear. Some scars never heal." Dad placed his hand on my leg. He could have just as easily been describing himself.

"Did you two have a good talk?"

"Yeah," he hedged.

"You don't have to tell me anything. If Matthew wants to talk about it, he'll tell me. But thank you." I placed my hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze.

"You're welcome, sweetie."

We pulled into Blake's driveway behind the others. Blake left the garage door open so we could all enter that way rather than going through the front door. Matthew opened Gracie's car door for her, but once she had exited the Mustang, he fell into step beside me. I relaxed, tension dripping out of my body that I hadn't even realized was there. It would have been horrible to be jealous of my best friend. Blake was right. It was a bad idea to start setting up people within your inner circle.

Blake led the tour, Dad and Gracie responding appropriately. I stayed in the back with Matthew and let my thoughts wander. I remembered a few short weeks ago taking this same tour and being impressed with what I saw as well. So much had changed; like I had expressed to Eric, Fort Wayne really was my home now. No matter how familiar I had become with my new surroundings, I hadn't forgotten where I had come from as he suggested.

The walkthrough ended in the loft, where I could finally show my dad and Gracie that neither unicorns nor rainbows resided in my bedroom. Even though I had texted some pictures of my room, photos didn't do it justice. That and they could be faked. I stood proudly in the middle of Blake's pink, black and gray creation, admiring her work as though I was seeing it for the first time also.

"Blake does wonderful work," I praised.

Gracie nodded. "It almost makes me want a roommate. If my apartment was bigger. And if I could have yours."

I laughed. "No deal. Blake is officially mine."

I flashed back to earlier that day in the bathroom with Eric. How he had uttered practically the same feeling about me, only his words had come across as eerily possessive. A chill ran down my spine and I shuddered reflexively.

"You're sure you're okay?" Matthew whispered.

Why did he have to be so intuitive?

"I'm fine."

"I'm officially hers for about a year," Blake smiled, "then once her lease is up, all bets are off. There may be hope for you yet."

"I couldn't afford a place like this anyway. Even to rent. I don't have a career like Lauren does. Only a job for now."

"Even better. That way you're not tied down. And I'll tell you a secret; Lauren's rent here is dirt cheap."

I nodded, confirming her statement. The fact was that I only paid slightly more to live here than my rent had been on the tiny speck of a place I called home in Indy. I knew the cost of living was substantially less up here, but I figured that Blake's family issues had a little to do with it as well. She seemed the type to despise being alone.

"Well, well. Something to consider then."

We chatted easily for the next few minutes and I thought to myself that this was how the entire day should have gone. If not for Eric's presence, I would have accomplished my original goal. Like I had thought, everyone that remained got along famously. If only Eric had turned on his salesman's charm he would have fit in, too. But he had come here not willing or able to do so.

"So, Gracie," my dad interjected, "it's probably about time to head back."

Gracie responded with a frown. She looked meaningfully at me and asked me silently to stall him. She wanted to talk about something in private.

"I want to show Gracie the dress I picked out for the Christmas party at work first," I said, thinking quickly. "Why don't you guys go downstairs and have some coffee and we'll be down in a couple minutes?"

Even though my intentions were rather transparent, the group let me off the hook and took my story at face value. With the kind of day I had had so far, it wasn't asking too much to be left alone with my best friend from home. I supposed at that point, I could have just shooed everyone else out of the room and there would have been no hard feelings.

Safely alone and behind closed doors, Gracie's face lit up. I raised my eyebrow, surprised at her sudden animation. I had expected her to launch into a tirade about Eric, though she wouldn't have had to have kept that under wraps.

"So?" she asked giddily, rubbing her hands together.

"So?" I repeated, shrugging. I had not a clue what she meant.

"You didn't tell me he was absolutely hot. In fact, you barely mentioned him at all. So what gives?"

Oh, yes, that was it. She wanted to dish about Matthew. I pushed down the bile that threatened to rise in my throat and reminded myself that I had wanted them to get together. Her interest in him was a good thing, and highly understandable. I could do this. I could play matchmaker. It would make the whole Eric thing easier to deal with in the long run. Any cheating allegations would be extinguished by my best friend dating the culprit. And any inappropriate thoughts or dreams on my behalf as well.

"What gives is that Matthew is incredibly scarred by his past. And I'm trying to help him with that. Given my experience, I feel kind of qualified to help him forgive himself, I guess. Eric called it a God complex earlier, but you know I'm not the controlling type. I wanted you and my dad to meet him with an open mind and not a preconceived notion of what he would be like. So I just gave you guys the bare minimum fact wise."

"I think you left out a lot of valuable information."

I shrugged. "You know now, right?"

"He really stayed with you that night Eric stood you up?"

I nodded. "He canceled his plans with his best friend. I heard him on the phone talking to him. And he sat with little old sobbing Lauren and dried my tears. Then carried me up to bed when I fell asleep."

"That's so sweet."

"I know. But I told Eric the truth about that night. Nothing happened. So you're free to make your move. You should go for it."

Her eyebrows furrowed as if that was the last thing she expected me to say. "Don't get me wrong here, but I'm the last person he would ever think about dating."

"Why?"

She snorted. "Because, my dear, he is head over heels for you."

A mixture of emotions washed over me. Fear, relief, excitement, guilt to name a few. One by one, those whose opinions I trusted the most indicated that Matthew had feelings for me. The consensus was the same, and I had run out of people to ask. Unless I started polling people at work, the vote was clearly that there was more than friendship between us.

I slumped down on my bed, my legs refusing to hold my weight any longer. Gracie sat beside me, wrapping her slender arm over my shoulders.

"Are you sure?" I asked softly.

"I'm positive. Lauren, the whole way here he asked me questions about you."

"Really?"

"Really. And all day he's practically orbited around you like you are the sun or something."

I stared down at my fingers. "This complicates things."

"Or maybe it clears them up."

"How so? I have a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend who won't truly commit. See, no ring." She lifted my left hand to prove her point. "After ten years, you would think he could make up his mind."

"Eric said if I loved him that I would have turned down the promotion and moved in with him. I'm not playing by his rules."

"So, if you'll give up everything for him, he'll give you something that may or may not be important to you? Seriously, if a diamond meant everything to you, you would have been long gone by now."

"It's not all about getting married. I mean, we're only twenty-six. I've still got time to have the whole American dream thing."

I looked up at her, searching her dark eyes for some kind of answer. It was ironic, me seeking out the advice of the younger girl who probably couldn't fathom having a serious relationship at this point in her life.

"I wish I could tell you what to do, Lauren. But you have to decide for yourself. I'm not Eric's biggest fan, but if you have kept him around this long, he must have some redeeming qualities. And you wouldn't have gotten as pissed off at him as you did earlier if you didn't care."

I bit my lip, considering. At this juncture, Eric's relationship with me was murky at best. I felt a little bit better now that I had stood up to him. If he couldn't handle my assertiveness, then I had an answer by default.

"I guess I have a lot of thinking to do," I muttered.

"I'm afraid so. At any cost, your little love triangle is amusing for the rest of us."

I elbowed her in the side. "It's not a soap opera."

"I beg to differ. On one hand, you have the boyfriend who will open up his wallet to show you he cares. On the other, you have the reformed bad boy who will open a vein for you. Who will Lauren choose? Tune in Monday to find out."

I wished it were that easy. At the rate I was going, it would take a year of Mondays to figure this one out.

#### Chapter Nineteen

The mood at work was decidedly more festive than I was prepared for on Friday morning. Several employees had risen at the crack of dawn – or not slept at all – in order to take advantage of the Black Friday deals around town. The office was abuzz with tales of shopping conquests and family gatherings. Typically, I would have enjoyed flitting from conversation to conversation, listening politely and interjecting now and then. Instead, I made the trek from the coffee pot to my office staring straight ahead and not stopping once. Safe in my sanctuary, I closed the door.

Having transferred only two months prior, my staff didn't have a good read on me yet. I knew my actions today would earn me the label of hard-ass boss, but I didn't care. I wasn't comfortable enough yet to impose upon them with my personal problems, as entertaining as Gracie assured me they were.

Entertaining or not, they were surely headache-inducing. I rubbed my temples as I waited for the caffeine to take effect. I had one hell of a migraine starting. It would be a long day for many reasons, lack of sleep being just the tip of the iceberg.

Last night, after I had seen Dad and Gracie safely off to Indianapolis, Matthew and I had attended a come-to-Blake meeting. If she wasn't such a talented interior design, I would have pegged her for a motivational speaker or televangelist. She had ordered us to the infamous sectional sofa of awkward conversations, standing before us and pacing back and forth as she called us out on our misdeeds. Granted, she had come down far harder on her brother than me. From his expression during the whole thing, he appeared to be used to it.

She had berated Matthew for causing the scene right before Eric left. She wasn't impressed with him for implying that we had spent the night together, even if it was partially true. She noted Eric's jealous streak and how that stupid comment had only fueled the fire. Thankfully, she stopped just short of letting him know that Eric had accused us of cheating with one another long before he knew about that night.

Done with her sibling, she had turned her wrath to me. I had heard the gist of her lecture before, in the days following me driving the Mustang. Even though she didn't come right out and say it in front of him, her meaning was clear: don't hurt my brother. Don't start something you're not capable of finishing.

Blake hadn't given the opportunity for us to offer rebuttals. Matthew had left soon after, and I had slunk upstairs to my room much like a grounded teenager. Sprawled on my bed fully clothed, I had laid in the dark, begging sleep to come and put me out of my misery. It hadn't listened. My stomach had twisted and turned right along with my emotions for the majority of the night. Finally, an hour or two before my alarm sounded I had fallen into a fitful slumber.

I knew I looked anything but bright eyed and bushy tailed today. Fortunately, should anyone ask, I could make up a story about how I had scored a really good deal on a television and no one would be the wiser. Holing up in my office, the chances of me having to fabricate something were slim to none. I wondered if anyone would notice me even if I was sitting in a cubicle smack dab in the middle of the office. Maybe I should work on being more personable while on the clock. I resolved to do just that as soon as I got the whole personal issue thing sorted out.

My cell stared at me from its perch on my desk. Having it out in plain sight was against company policy, but I was bending the rules today. If George happened by, I could stash it in my desk drawer fairly easily. I didn't want to risk missing a call from Eric. I knew that he would be midflight to Vegas right about now, with no chance of connecting, but still held hope that he would reach out to tell me he had arrived safely. I didn't know why it mattered so much; my anger still flared in my veins, but I couldn't pretend I didn't care. I supposed ten years worth of love for a person could do that to you.

Hours later, as people around the office began to leave for the evening, I realized that I hadn't gotten a text or call from anyone all day. I remembered what Eric had said yesterday when he left. That I should call him when I felt like being honest. At the time, I had considered pulling out my cell and dialing him immediately just to make my point that nothing had happened between Matthew and me. But perhaps he was meaning something more figurative than literal. Was he referring to me not admitting my feelings for Blake's brother? If so, I may never be able to place that call.

Whatever the case, Eric obviously wasn't going to be the one to budge. His flight surely would have landed by now. Knowing him, he would have his cell attached to his ear even while hanging out with the guys. Who would be on the other end of the line, I had no clue. But it wouldn't be me.

I shook my head and stared at my computer. The headache had finally disappeared, and I was actually feeling productive. I decided to stay a little longer and wrap up some email responses. Sometimes it was easier to get things done after hours, when the phones stopped ringing and the hum of the office dissipated. I was so buried in my task that when George poked his head in my office to announce his departure, I jumped.

"Sorry to scare you, Lauren," he apologized with a smile.

"No big deal. You out of here?"

"Yeah. Want me to walk you out?"

We were often the last ones to leave. Ever the gentleman, I wondered if he purposefully stayed until I was ready to go so he could escort me to my car. I typically let him, allowing him to feel like he was protecting me. I never mentioned that I was accustomed to living in a much bigger city in a much scarier section of town.

"No, I'm good. I need to finish up a couple things yet."

He shrugged, and I imagined that I had deflated his ego just a bit. "You're good with locking up then?"

I nodded, giving him an encouraging smile.

"Don't stay too late. It is a holiday weekend for most of the country."

"And my family's two hours away." I grinned.

"Good night."

"Good night, George."

He hovered in my doorway for a split second as if he wanted to say something else. The moment disappeared, and he turned away and headed for the exit instead.

I stayed for another hour and a half, not really wanting to head home to an empty house anyway. Blake had informed me via a note on the counter this morning that she had a date with yet another unnamed suitor and she wouldn't be home until late. I seriously doubted that Matthew would be heading over for dinner after the debacle that had been last night, so it was just me. Eventually though, my growling stomach convinced me that it needed attention. I powered off my computer and headed for the door.

Being mid-fall, the sky had already darkened and the air was chilly. A shiver ran down my spine as I headed for the Honda, and I wrapped my coat tighter around my body. A cool mist filled the air, and I trudged across the parking lot, wet leaves sticking to my shoes.

I climbed into my car, telling myself that I would just stop at a drive-thru on the way home and grab something quick for dinner. Cooking for one didn't appeal to me, and at this point I wanted nothing more than to take a nice hot bath and go to bed anyway. The Honda, however, had other ideas. When I turned the key in the ignition, nothing happened. I tried a couple more times with the same result.

"Shit!" I slammed the steering wheel in frustration, tears threatening to spill over my cheeks.

I grabbed my cell out of my purse and dialed Blake. Straight to voice mail. Date night must be going well, or she would have eagerly accepted the excuse to opt out. I took a deep breath and dialed the only other person I knew in Fort Wayne. Even though I knew I was inviting trouble, I had no other choice unless I started calling tow trucks and taxis.

The phone rang four times before Matthew answered. Though his greeting was the usual "Hey, gorgeous," I wondered if Blake had anything to do with his hesitation. Or Eric. Or anything that had gone on since we met.

I swallowed hard and tried to compose myself. There was no need to cry. Car trouble happened to everyone at some point. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" There he was being super perceptive again.

"Not really. My car's dead. I'm still at work. I tried calling Blake, but she's out on a date."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, during which I chastised myself for not calling a cab instead. Had Blake's lecture scared him off totally? Had I? I had been so certain that he would have agreed to help me out, and I blushed at my stupidity. I wondered if he was even still on the other end of the line. I pulled my phone away from my ear to make sure the call hadn't been dropped.

"Matthew," I said shakily, "don't worry about it. I'll just call a cab."

"No, don't," he said quickly, "give me half an hour or so."

"Okay," I said hesitantly, "see you then."

Guiltily, I hung up the phone. Him asking for a half hour leeway meant that he was not just sitting at home, doing nothing. I was interrupting whatever was going on in his life right now. It had taken him a few more rings than usual to pick up, and he had seemed strange after he answered. Yet he was going to drop whatever it was he was in the middle of and come rescue me. Just like Gracie said, he had proven he would open the proverbial vein for me.

Half an hour would be enough time to go back inside and finish some more work, but I didn't want to run the risk of making him wait for me. Besides, I wasn't too keen on crossing the windy, wet parking lot once more and dealing with the security code to the building. It all seemed like more trouble than it was worth. It wasn't too cold out here; even though I couldn't turn on the heater given its current state, just being inside the car provided a small bit of warmth and a barrier from the breeze.

The operations center for the bank sat off the main road by several hundred yards. I doubted anyone would drive by here and give me trouble, but I locked my doors just to be certain. Then I reclined my seat and closed my eyes. My mind wandered almost immediately, starting with the mundane, like what I was going to eat for dinner. All too soon, I was reminded of my current dilemma.

My eyes snapped open as I realized that Matthew, like Blake, could also be out on a date tonight. Jealousy stirred in my empty stomach. True, from what I had gathered, he hadn't had a serious relationship since his legal issues had begun, but that wouldn't stop him from taking part in a string of one-night stands. Someone as handsome as he was wouldn't have any problem finding a willing partner. Maybe he and Blake were more alike in that regard than I cared to admit.

No, I told myself. I couldn't see that being the case. While Blake was fairly open about her love them and leave them philosophy, Matthew didn't act like a stud. He acted so hollow and lonely and ashamed that I couldn't imagine him having the confidence to pick up lady after lady. The only time he seemed to be at ease was around his sister or me. I had seen a glimpse of his charm appear last night when he asked Gracie to ride with him, but he had only been on a fishing expedition to find out more about yours truly.

I reached over to the passenger seat and removed my phone from my purse. I flipped it open and checked the time. Five minutes more, give or take. I yawned and could have sworn I saw my breath. I rubbed my hands together to warm them up and stretched in my seat.

Headlights reflected off my rearview mirror. I jumped, despite anticipating Matthew's arrival. I whirled around, watching as the vehicle continued down the drive and entered the parking lot proper. They didn't belong to the Mustang or even the Camry. I shuddered, this time not due to the weather.

Silly me, I chided myself. The cleaning crew was probably showing up now. I hadn't yet stayed at work this late and had no idea at what time they normally arrived. However, when the car didn't pull into one of the spots nearest the building, I was glad I had locked my doors. As I feared, it continued across the lot in my direction. As it came closer, I could see it was an older model Honda Civic, probably blue in color, a cousin of my own currently worthless vehicle. My heart pounded as I reached for my cell once more, ready to call the police.

I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for there to be an explanation for this. Nobody would have seen me parked here from the road. Someone looking for trouble wouldn't just happen by a secluded parking lot, hoping for something to be there; they'd pick an easier mark, right? For that reason only, I held off on dialing 911.

That's me, ever the eternal optimist. I wondered how that optimism would benefit me when the driver of the unknown car came at me with a gun and demanded my purse. Or worse, realized that I was a bank employee and thought I had access to a vault that contained massive amounts of money.

My breath caught in my lungs as the Civic came to a stop in the spot right beside me. I kept my face straight ahead, but attempted to look to my right to see the driver. It was too dark, but the shadow appeared tall and bulky enough to be male. Some witness I would be. The dome light of the other vehicle snapped on, but the driver didn't budge. This meant only one thing. He had a passenger, and that passenger was getting out of the car.

I braced myself for whatever was going to come next. I hoped that my attacker was small enough that I could fight him or her off. I was only about a hundred pounds soaking wet, but adrenaline had to count for something. Maybe I could bide my time until Matthew showed up. He would swoop in and get me out of whatever mess I had gotten into. I only had to not die or get too severely injured before he got there. Or try not to get clubbed over the head and kidnapped. It also wouldn't be good if I wasn't physically here to save.

My hysteria at how to control the situation lasted long enough for the passenger to cross around the back of my vehicle and approach the driver's side. I could see a silhouette out of the corner of my eye, but I stubbornly refused to turn my head. A hand reached out and rapped on my window.

I screamed. A loud, bloodcurdling scream. I hoped it would be enough to distract whoever it was outside long enough to call for help. All I had to do was get the dispatcher on the line, and even if something bad happened, as long as we were connected, they could trace the general proximity of my phone and that would be better than nothing. But before I could convince my trembling fingers to dial anything on the touch screen, I was keenly aware of the sound of laughter.

Slowly, I turned to look out my window. Matthew stood mere inches away from my door, practically doubled over. I realized that the laughter was coming from him, and heat entered my cheeks. I unlocked my doors and climbed out.

"Thanks a lot!" I practically yelled at him, my embarrassment causing me to be more harsh than I should have been. After all, he was the one who agreed to help me. Still upset, I swatted at him with my purse.

He straightened himself up to his full six foot four inch frame. "I'm so sorry, Lauren," he choked out, "but I got you good."

"You could have at least told me that you were coming with someone else. I was looking for one of your cars, not someone else's." My words were still tinged with bitterness. I couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry, gorgeous, you're right. I wasn't thinking."

He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his warmth. Maybe it was colder out here than I had originally thought. I began to shiver uncontrollably, maybe caused by a variety of factors, and he hugged me tighter, this time with both arms.

"Shhhh," he soothed softly, rubbing his hand in circles across my back, "it's okay."

I relaxed in his embrace as I always did, and if we hadn't both realized that the Civic was still idling beside my car, we might have stayed like that for an extended period of time. Instead, he cleared his throat, and I untangled myself from him.

"Do you know what's wrong with it?" he asked, motioning to my Honda as if I needed a visual.

I shook my head.

"Good," he smirked, "because I wouldn't know how to fix it anyway. Grab your purse, your garage door opener, and anything else you think is valuable. We can call for a tow truck in the morning."

I nodded, and did as instructed. I locked my car and followed him to the Civic.

"I'm really sorry about being pissed off at you," I admitted as we rounded the trunk of the offending car, "but I was really scared. I appreciate you dropping what you were doing to come get me."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

He opened the rear passenger door for me and I climbed in. For a brief, awkward moment, I was sitting in some guy's car that I had never met before, alone with him. Then Matthew assumed his place up front and made the introductions.

"Lauren, this is Chris. Chris, Lauren."

"Hi," I said softly, my mind working overtime.

"Hi," Chris replied. He turned around in his seat to face me as best as he could.

So here he was. The elusive Chris. Matthew's best friend. Blake's ex-boyfriend.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." He smiled easily, showing off perfect teeth. His dark brown, almost black hair was worn spiky, and he had large, chocolate brown eyes. Was everyone associated with the Snyders ridiculously attractive? If so, what was I doing here?

"Do you want to stop somewhere and get something to eat?" Matthew asked.

It took me a moment to realize that his question was directed towards me.

"No, I'm not really hungry," I lied.

"It's no trouble, really," Chris indicated, but I shook my head.

"I'll just eat something at home."

"Okay then," Chris said, "home it is."

Matthew directed him on just where that was, and I realized that Chris and Blake had broken up long before she became a homeowner. For whatever reason, I just assumed that he would have known where she lived now, but it made sense that he didn't.

"You would think," Chris began, "that this car would be some kind of a divining rod, but it's not."

Matthew laughed heartily before explaining to me. "This used to be Blake's car. Our dad bought this for her when she turned sixteen. When she graduated from high school, he bought her a Mercedes, and sold this to Chris for a song."

"Just goes to show you that their parents weren't always assholes," Chris commented.

"So the two of you are like kindred spirits of sorts, driving aged Hondas and all."

"Mine's fifteen years old with two hundred thousand miles on it," I said proudly, finding my voice.

"This one's slightly newer. Eleven years old. I hope she lasts another four years. Actually, I think it will be a sad day when I have to give her up."

"You've taken really good care of it," I said, and meant it. The interior was showroom clean, and I would have bet the balance in my bank account that the outside was just as immaculate. This car was a labor of love for him. I reckoned it had less to do with the car itself and more to do with who it used to belong to. If he was a car guy like Matthew, he wouldn't be babying a well-used Civic. It wasn't exactly a classic car.

"Thanks. So, you've been Blake's roommate for what, about two or three months now? Just a word of warning: don't believe anything she says about me."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that she had said very little about him at all. Instead, I just nodded. I had been sure that there was juicy backstory behind their breakup; this just confirmed that. But while Blake had been fairly forthcoming with her brother's secrets, she hadn't come nearly as clean with her own. I was fully aware that Matthew knew the whole truth, but I hadn't been willing to pry. We had barely talked about his own issues; I didn't want to seem gossipy. Which reminded me that Matthew hadn't opened up about what he had discussed with my father. At this rate, he probably never would. I might have to get that story from Blake as well.

We were fast approaching the juncture with the interstate. As we got closer to the fast food restaurants on either side of the onramps, Matthew asked again if I was hungry. Even though the bright lights beckoned to me with their offerings of fatty, inexpensive food, I declined once more. I didn't want to impose upon them any more than I already had.

"You probably scared away any appetite she had," Chris muttered. "That was pretty harsh."

Matthew shifted in his seat, and I blushed. Of course Chris would have heard the whole thing. He just hadn't mentioned it until now. I tried to decide if he was taking my side, or if he was complimenting his friend's ability to scare the living daylights out of me. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and figured he was attempting to defend my honor.

"I told her I was sorry!"

"Yeah," Chris chuckled, "I saw your guys' little apology session."

If possible, I turned even redder. Fortunately for me, we were far enough away from the interstate now that the city lights had disappeared. Even if one of them would have looked back at me, I would be covered in shadows, my embarrassment hidden.

Matthew directed Chris the rest of the way to Blake's house, effectively ending that line of conversation. I wondered how much Chris knew about me; was he judging me for an innocent hug with his friend? Did he know all about Eric? About what had happened last night? I wasn't sure if guys confided in each other the way that girls did. At that moment, I hoped not.

"So which house is it?" Chris asked as he pulled onto my street.

"The yellow one on the cul-de-sac," I replied, finding my voice.

"Don't worry, man," Matthew encouraged, "she's not home. She's out on a – "

"Client meeting," I interjected, feeling the need to lie.

Chris snorted. "So that's what she calls them now. Honestly, I'm afraid that I'll burst into flames if I get within fifty feet of her door."

"You can drop me off at the curb," I suggested helpfully.

"Nah, it's okay. Sometimes you just have to confront your demons."

He pulled into the driveway without incident.

"I suppose inviting you inside is out of the question, then?" I laughed.

"I said confront your demons, not stick your finger in them where the sun doesn't shine."

I smiled as I gathered up my belongings. "Well, Chris, it was nice meeting you. And thank you for coming to my rescue."

"My pleasure. Try to have a good night, considering everything."

I had the distinct feeling that he wasn't referring to just my car.

"Yeah," I said nonchalantly, "hope you guys do, too."

"Lauren," Matthew stopped me just as I was about to pop open the door, "if you need anything, let me know."

"Okay."

I made my way up the sidewalk and to the porch. Chris waited to pull away until I had the front door unlocked and I had started to go inside. I turned and waved; he gave a quick honk of his horn in response. I stood at the door long after the taillights of the Civic had disappeared from view, trying to piece together what had just happened. One thing I was sure of was that a lot of angst had filled the interior of that car when the three of us had occupied it.

Suddenly exhausted, I piled my stuff on the kitchen table and made my way to the fridge to get something, anything, to eat. My growling stomach had returned, and I regretted my decision not to pick up anything on the way here. I settled for a bowl of cereal, swallowing it down quickly before retreating upstairs to my room. Not a gourmet meal by any means, but it did the trick.

I changed into my pajamas, even though it wasn't yet ten o'clock on a Friday night. I carefully placed my work clothes into the bag I kept handy for drycleaning and shoved it into my closet. As I set the bag on the floor, I looked straight up at the red dress I had been wearing that ill-fated night Eric had chosen the airport over me. Matthew had hung it up in here, and I hadn't been able to look at it the same since. Every time I did, I thought of him picking it up off the floor, his hands smoothing the fabric as he placed it on the hanger, positioning my shoes underneath.

Then my mind would invariably wander to him carrying me up the stairs and depositing me in my bed, pulling the comforter over my sleeping body. I wished I would have been a fly on the wall that night, to see the way he treated me when no one else was looking, not even myself. The thought both scared and intrigued me.

Before I could continue any further down that road, I pushed my thoughts back to Eric. He was no doubt having the time of his life in Vegas by now. I was probably the last thing on his mind. If I was placing a bet, I would wager it had been quite a while since I had placed in his top ten. Yet something kept us together, gravitating towards one another. Stubbornness, stupidity, fear of the unknown? I wasn't certain.

What I did know was that I wouldn't be able to make it through the weekend without trying to pick up the pieces that had fallen apart yet again.

#### Chapter Twenty

Blake and Matthew met me in the driveway as I pulled up in my brand new Hyundai Sonata Hybrid, despite the fact that it was freezing cold and snow flurries dotted the sky. I didn't bother opening the garage door, parking instead in the driveway and hopping out. I unlocked all the doors, popped open the trunk and hood, and stood amused as they made their inspections.

After much soul-searching, the impulsive side of me had won out and I had decided against having the Accord fixed. On Matthew's advice, I had had my old car towed to the garage he recommended. Although the estimate I had been given was reasonable, I decided against paying to have it fixed and instead sold it to the owner so he could part it out.

For the past couple of weeks I had depended upon Blake's generosity. She had brought home the Trailblazer from the design studio and allowed me to drive the Miata. Secretly, I figured her graciousness was the direct result of her wanting to beat her brother to the punch. I knew that had I needed him to, he would have given me the keys to either the Mustang or the Camry without a second thought, further blurring the lines of our friendship. Before we delved into even more dangerous territory, Blake had sacrificed her own car. I knew she didn't like to drive the SUV for personal use, but I hadn't heard one complaint about it.

Between juggling work and trying to repair my ailing relationship with Eric, I had thoroughly researched the biggest purchase I had ever made. Like with most every other major decision, I analyzed it from every angle. I gathered opinions, weighed my options, then slept on it. Maybe impulsive was the wrong word for what happened.

Eric and I were back on speaking terms, though we danced around our issues without really discussing them. Our conversations focused on the safe, for which I was grateful. I really hated to bring up something so serious over the phone. I wasn't about to drive to Indy while I was relying on the Miata for transportation; that just seemed like taking advantage of Blake. And Eric hadn't volunteered to come back up to Fort Wayne. Honestly, I couldn't blame him.

Instead, he had provided me with his opinions on what my next vehicle should be. His first suggestion had been a BMW, which I had nixed outright. He continued down the list of luxury vehicles from a Lexus to a Mercedes to a Cadillac; when I had refused all those, a Volvo. Admittedly, I did consider a Volvo longer than the others, but still decided against it.

Defeated, Eric had uncharacteristically spent hours on the phone with me searching the internet for my next car. After a lot of debate, we came across the Sonata. I loved it immediately. He could live with it. And so it was decided. As a consolation, I promised I wouldn't settle for anything less than fully loaded. The color choice, red, was mine alone.

As luck would have it, no cars at the local dealership had met my criteria. I had test driven a charcoal gray one that had everything else on my list, but turned up my nose. This car was going to be with me for a long time; there was no sense in settling for good enough. So the accommodating salesman had done some digging and found the exact car I wanted in Illinois somewhere. I had written a hefty downpayment check and they had promised to make it happen. Five business days later, my new car was ready for me.

Which led me to now. Shivering, I stood back as Blake and Matthew ogled my vehicle from every possible angle. There was something about a new car that made people gather, sort of like babies and puppies. Try as I might to tell myself it was just a means to get from point A to point B, I had to admit that there was a sense of euphoria in my stomach. I rather liked my early Christmas present.

"Enough," I said finally, shooing them away, "I'm freezing. Let's go inside."

They scattered, heading up the sidewalk to the front porch. I climbed in the driver's seat and pulled it in to the garage. We met in the kitchen.

Since I had been occupied at the dealership, Matthew had brought over a pizza for dinner. Blake grabbed the paper plates from the cabinet and we sat down at the breakfast bar for a decidedly casual meal. As I lifted a slice of thin crust pepperoni from the box to my plate, I took in my surroundings and felt at peace.

Through the sliding glass doors that led out to the deck I could see that the snow had begun falling in earnest. The wintery backdrop added a serene quality to the scene that played out in front of me. Blake and Matthew laughed about something that I had missed during my reverie, their faces pure images of joy. I smiled to myself, thinking that out of all the people that I had ever met, these two deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

So often both sets of ocean blue eyes would look at me with an unmistakable twinge of pain even when I had said something benign. I knew there was so much that I didn't know. I doubted that if I hadn't revealed my mother's fate early on that I would have even gotten the partial story. My knowledge barely scratched the surface. I wondered if I would ever learn the whole truth.

I snuck a peek at Matthew smiling at his sister. It was nearly impossible to imagine him how he must have been years ago. From the bits and pieces that Blake had let slip, he had been quite the athlete, always the ladies man and more than a little cocky. I couldn't see the arrogance now; his struggles had washed that clear away. His guilt was a double-edged sword; it had floated him back down to earth at the same time it made him feel unworthy of being here.

My eyes traveled to Blake. She, too, had gone through so much. Though the legal troubles hadn't been her own, she had dealt with the repercussions of standing by her brother's side. I couldn't fathom parents who could disown one child, let alone two. I was sure that hidden in the tangled web of Matthew's arrests would be some explanation of what had gone on between her and Chris. To lose your parents, your brother and your boyfriend in one fell swoop had to be awful.

"Lauren," Blake called out.

I snapped to attention, blushing as I realized that this was not the first time she had addressed me. "Sorry," I muttered.

Blake grinned. "As I was saying, Lauren, while you were daydreaming about your new car, Matthew and I were discussing Christmas."

I sighed inwardly with relief. If she wanted to blame my lack of attention on my new vehicle, I wasn't about to argue.

"Since Thanksgiving went so well," I began sarcastically, "I think we should have a separate holiday for just the three of us."

"Agreed," Matthew said quickly, "though I think our problem is only with one of your guests."

He caught my eye and I nodded. I knew he shared the sentiment with Blake. If Eric wasn't in the picture, we could have another get together with my dad and Gracie. But he was, so that option was out. I couldn't say I blamed Matthew for voicing his opinion. I wasn't eager to repeat the drama that had unfolded a few weeks back, or the tongue lashing the two of us had gotten from Blake as a result. Things still hadn't gotten completely back to normal between us. I had the distinct feeling that we walked on eggshells in each other's presence, afraid of Blake's watchful eyes.

"So," I said, drawing out the syllable as I thought, "how about we have Christmas Eve here? I have to work till noon, and then we could get together. Then I'll wake up in the morning on Christmas Day and drive down to Indy. The two of you will be free to do whatever it is that you do usually."

"Which amounts to a whole lot of nothing," Blake laughed, "which is kind of sad."

Her face fell momentarily, a blink and you missed it kind of thing. I caught it all, and it made me feel so badly for her. Christmas had always been big at the Jefferies house, my dad's favorite holiday. I used to think it was due to the fact that he was trying to make up for being a single parent, but the truth of the matter was he just loved that time of year. If I were to show up unannounced at his place any time in the month of December, I knew I would be greeted at the front door with a giant wreath and one of those silly reindeer doormats. Inside my childhood home would be an impressively decorated tree complete with expertly wrapped gifts underneath.

I had been so wrapped up in all of my issues that I hadn't noticed that the queen of interior decorating hadn't put a stitch up in her own home for Christmas. I wondered if she was just that busy, too, or if there was some sort of a mental block against it. I weighed the risk of her being pissed off at me for bringing a live tree home and setting it up tomorrow. I decided to try to get Matthew alone and ask him if she had some aversion to Christmas just in case. It didn't seem like it, but I didn't want to open up an unnecessary can of worms.

"So it's settled then," Matthew said, "we are on for Christmas Eve."

"I won't have time to cook or anything," I said quickly, the realization popping into my head, "not with work and all."

"Don't worry about it," Blake shrugged, "we can do something simple like ham sandwiches. Not every meal has to be a massive undertaking. You don't need to impress us."

"Suit yourself. But one thing that I can do right is cook. Sadly, you all witnessed how unimpressive my relationship skills are."

"So how is Eric?" she asked pointedly. Matthew rolled his eyes and pretended to be disinterested in the conversation. He rose from the bar and collected the empty pizza box and our plates. He kept one ear tuned to what we were saying as he threw the trash away in the pantry.

It was my turn to shrug. "Okay, I guess. We haven't really talked about things. I was waiting to do that in person, you know?"

"Well, you're free to fly now," Blake mused, "I take it a trip to Indy is in order? Before Christmas?"

"Time's kind of running out for that," I admitted, "it'll keep until then. He's busy with end of the year stuff at work and so am I. And then the whole Christmas thing thrown in there with shopping for gifts and all."

"And the total lack of desire of addressing the problem?" she smiled.

"That too. We're both pretty good at ignoring the elephant in the room."

"So I've noticed. You're trying for two ruined holidays in a row. Maybe you could make it three and go for New Year's also."

"Your faith in me is astounding."

"My faith in you is astounding. Eric, however, I have no faith in whatsoever."

"We are talking. That's something."

"Sure it is." Blake didn't sound convinced.

Matthew returned to the breakfast bar and took his stool, an amused expression on his face. I elbowed him.

"I don't need you chiming in, too," I muttered.

"What?" he laughed, "I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to."

Our eyes met again, and his expression was indecipherable. My breath caught nonetheless, and I tried to read between the lines. His eyes narrowed, out of concern, perhaps? Then, just as quickly as the moment snuck up on me, it vanished into thin air and he was grinning at me.

"I've already got your present," he teased, "and you are going to love it."

My stomach somersaulted. Sure, there was a part of me that suspected he might get me something. After all, we were celebrating together and to come empty handed would be slightly rude. I had counted on it being of the drugstore variety, hastily purchased at the last minute out of obligation. A friendly gesture. A bottle of lotion maybe, but not something that I would love.

I coughed slightly before choking out a response. "Great. Because you are going to love your present, too."

At least I hoped I could find something that he would halfway like.

"That is, when you buy it, right?" He winked, letting me know that I couldn't fool him.

"Shut up."

"Hey, gorgeous, nobody's perfect. I know it takes you forever to make up your mind about things, anyway. You probably have a spreadsheet in your room with possible gift ideas that you've been working on since the day we met."

"Again, shut up."

"So," Blake interjected, "if you work until noon, we can count on eating about one thirty? I figure Matthew will come over early, so we can start on stuff before you get here. That way we'll be done early enough that you can get up at the crack of dawn Christmas morning for your drive to the big city."

"Sounds good to me," I agreed.

Blake's cell rang. She picked it up off of the counter beside her, stared at the screen for a split second, and finally answered it. "Snyder Designs," she chirped brightly, walking into the living room for privacy.

Now was my chance. I leaned over the counter, effectively cutting the distance between myself and Matthew in half. Instinctively, he leaned in as well. For a moment, I was rendered speechless at his proximity. Once I had collected my thoughts I whispered conspiratorially, "Why doesn't she have a Christmas tree yet?"

This was clearly not what he had been expecting. He stared at me blankly. I chose to continue.

"I mean the woman decorated your mailbox for Thanksgiving, and we have no Christmas decorations up. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was the middle of summer in here."

He looked conflicted. So there was a reason behind the lack of Christmas spirit. I watched intently as he struggled inwardly with what he should do next. Would he tell me what was going on? I desperately wanted him to. There was a part of me that needed him to trust me. Instinct told me that whatever the issue was, it was his sister's alone. This greatly reduced the probability of me finding out, as he seemed willing to do whatever it took to protect her. But I was harmless. I wouldn't hurt her.

I sighed, admitting defeat. "I just need to know if she'll object to me decorating the house. If a tree is going to piss her off, then I'll not get one."

He swallowed hard, craning his neck to see into the living room. I could still hear indistinguishable conversation coming in bits and pieces as Blake spoke with her client. Deciding the coast was clear, he said softly, "I went to jail about this time of year. Christmas was the first holiday she was alone. It didn't sit well. She had just been disowned by our parents and she and Chris had just broken up. And I was, well, indisposed."

I nodded, eager to learn more. I didn't want to pry, but I did want to understand. Matthew had drawn an outline of an idea. I wanted him to color it in. Unfortunately he wouldn't get the chance, even if he wanted to. Blake had wandered close enough to the kitchen that we could hear that her phone call was wrapping up.

"Go ahead and get the tree," he advised, placing his hand over mine. "She'd never do it for herself. And that will be the best present that you can give her. She needs to move on as much as I do."

He gave my hand a squeeze prior to pulling away. We separated not a second too soon, back to our respective ends of the counter right as Blake breezed into the room. As expected, the heat from his touch burned my skin long after his hand had been removed. Absentmindedly, I rubbed the offending area with the fingers of my opposite hand.

"Well," Matthew said, rising from his stool, "it's getting late. I'm going to take off."

"See you, dork." Blake grinned.

"Bye," I said simply.

He hugged his sister quickly, pausing for a brief moment in front of me. If Blake's watchful eyes hadn't been fixed on us, I was sure he would have done the same with me. Instead, he gave me sort of an awkward pat on the shoulder and was gone.

As soon as the door closed behind him, I turned to my roommate. "What did he get me?"

She shrugged. "No clue."

"He said I would love it. This makes me scared."

"Because Eric would be jealous if he knew?"

"Damn. I hadn't thought that far yet. No, I'm scared because I haven't gotten him anything yet."

"I have a feeling that no matter what you would get him, he would think it was the best present ever."

"Blake," I whined, "there is nothing going on."

"Then why would Eric be jealous?"

"Because it smacks of something going on. My God, what if Matthew gets me something wonderful and I have to lie about where I got it?"

Blake twisted her strand of blue hair about her finger. "I don't think he's that stupid. Besides, Eric doesn't see you enough to have a mental inventory of everything you own. Even if it is something like jewelry or a sweater, you can always say you got it for yourself. Or that I gave it to you or something."

"You, my friend, are pretty devious. And it comes in handy sometimes."

"Do you really think that Eric tells you everything? Why should you be any different?"

I sighed. "I worry that he doesn't tell me everything. Trust me, I know he has plenty of opportunity to do whatever he pleases. But if I start doubting him, then what does that say about our relationship? If I want him to trust me, I need to give him the same respect. And he should trust me, because nothing is going on."

"I think the scene at Thanksgiving says plenty about your relationship. Not all of it good."

I would have been upset with her if her words hadn't rung true. I had been hearing the same commentary from Gracie pretty much ever since we became friends. To have Blake hold virtually the same opinion in the two seconds she had witnessed us together was eye-opening. Maybe I was the one not seeing things clearly. Instead of firing off a quick retort, I stared down at the granite countertop.

"See, you know I'm right." Her words were soft, not arrogant. She slid onto the seat beside me gracefully. She gave me a moment to absorb her words, then continued. "There's a saying about how insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

Again, I kept quiet. I did look back up at her, choosing not to believe that she was calling me insane. I had a general feeling I knew where she was headed. I had gone there in my own mind more often than I cared to think about.

"Time and again he hurts you and you take him back. I know that people disagree. People don't always get along. But these aren't simple arguments. You have conflicting viewpoints over major things. And because you hate confrontation, you go along with what he says most of the time."

"I have stood up to him about things before. The move here, for instance."

"Right, but eventually you are going to have to be on the same page. At least on the basic stuff. A long-distance relationship won't work forever. At some point you want to get married and have kids, I'm sure. It's a little hard to raise a family together when you're two hours apart. One of you is going to have to back down. Likely not him."

I closed my eyes. She had nailed it. Was everything so transparent, so obvious? Had I been hiding from the truth for years, clinging to hope that things would change? Was a relationship with Eric worth giving up my promotion? Would he ask me to?

The sinking feeling in my stomach suggested he would.

"Relationships are about compromise," I said quietly, "and he said that we would figure out a way to make this work. I have to believe that he was sincere. If it pissed him off that bad that I moved away, he would have broken up with me already."

Blake placed her hand on my shoulder. "I hope for your sake that you're right. I don't want to see you get hurt. Just make sure that in the end, no matter what happens, that you're happy."

She stared off into the distance wistfully, like she just realized she should have taken her own advice. I wanted so badly to open the dialogue about her and Chris, but I held my tongue. With the new insight I had gained from Matthew I figured now wouldn't be the time. If she wouldn't tell me something as innocent as why we hadn't decorated for Christmas yet, I doubted she would wax poetically about her brother going to jail and breaking up with her steady boyfriend.

Even if I had been able to find my courage, she rose from her stool prior to anything else being said. That was Blake, breezing in and out of conversations. So totally put together on the outside, so broken on the inside. She never stayed anywhere long enough to engage on a higher level. She could dispense advice to me, but couldn't handle the magnifying glass being turned on her. This time she excused herself to her office, latching the door quietly but figuratively slamming it shut against further intrusion.

#### Chapter Twenty-One

Unable to shake the nagging feeling my conversation with Blake had produced, I grabbed my cell and headed to the garage. I snapped a picture of the new car, captioned it simply "It's here!" and sent the photo to Eric. Praying silently, I retreated to the living room. I slumped down on the sofa. This could go two ways. I prepared myself for rejection, but instead the phone rang mere seconds later.

"Nice," Eric said when I answered. I wondered if he used the same shorthand on all of his calls, or just with me. Like he was too important to be bothered with pleasantries, instead jumping right into the meat of the discussion. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I mean I've only driven it for about half an hour so far, but it is really nice."

He chuckled, and my stomach slowly began unknotting. "See, I told you were missing out on a lot. Sure the Honda gave you plenty of good years, but automotive technology has come a long way in the fifteen years since it was made. Now I won't worry as much about you driving down to Indy to visit."

"As much?" I asked, encouraged by the fact that he worried at all.

"Of course I worried about you. You were just too stubborn to notice. So what's up? You're not the gloating type, so there must be something going on."

I shifted on the couch, crossing my legs under me. "I just wanted to hear your voice," I admitted, settling into the cushions.

"Well, here it is. Bad day?"

"No, not really. Just lonely, I guess. And thinking about the holidays. Now that I have reliable transportation, I am coming down for Christmas for sure."

"Awesome. At your dad's? Or here?"

"I haven't talked to him about it yet. Everything just kind of fell into place tonight with the car coming in and all. I mean, I was pretty sure that I would have it before Christmas, but I didn't want to start planning something I couldn't follow through with."

"Right."

"So you're free Christmas Day then? I wasn't sure what was going on with your parents."

"Oh, they'll be down in Florida like usual. So I'll eagerly be waiting for your arrival. You are coming alone, right?"

"If you're asking about Blake and Matthew, they are staying here, yes."

The relief on the other end of the line was palpable. It saddened me that I had to compartmentalize my life this way. If I was with Eric, I couldn't be with my Fort Wayne faction. To be honest, he barely tolerated Gracie, but maybe she was okay because she was local. His unspoken invitation probably would have included Blake as well. She hadn't seemed to annoy him, either. It was really just Matthew he couldn't stand. But since the siblings were more or less a package deal, one not welcome meant they both weren't.

"Well, figure out what you want to do and let me know. You could always come down Christmas Eve and spend the night here."

Even though he was miles away, I still shook my head. "I'll be tired with working and all. I'll just get a good night's sleep and head out in the morning. Depending on what the weather looks like, it may be stressful driving."

"It seems like we very rarely have white Christmases here. You will probably be just fine. And you're only working until noon anyway."

"I'm not sure," I hedged. "I'm salaried now. Word is that management is expected to stay longer."

"On Christmas Eve?" he countered, picking up on my bold-faced lie. At the branch level at least, all employees had zoomed out the door the second the clock struck twelve. In fact, the four working hours were largely unproductive. It was a running joke that corporate was just out to make us miserable by not extending the holiday.

"It's just what I've heard. Maybe they are trying to scare us into submission. Or into staying late until year end so we meet our goals. We are fairly close to hitting production based on the applications we have in house right now. There is a big push to get as many loans closed as possible to have them on the books this year."

Once I pulled out the shop speak, he relented. Being in sales, he couldn't argue with my logic, even though it was totally off the cuff. Talking about production goals made him forget that the majority of the business world would be shut down for the holiday, so any progress made after hours would be minimal at best. Maybe he just didn't want to consider the alternative.

"Well, if you do get off at a reasonable hour, my offer still stands."

"Okay," I said, unable to close the door on his optimism completely. I could always fabricate a story about a closing gone wrong or some similar chaos ensuing. Or, if the festivities at Blake's didn't last as long as I planned, I might be able to hop in the car afterward and head down. Maybe that's what I would do. It made my head spin to juggle wanting to be in two different places at once.

"See what you can do, okay? Unless you need the extra time to wrap your gifts. I know how you procrastinate."

I laughed. He was right there. And the pseudo-pleading thing tugged at my heart. I wished that I could shrink myself and hop through the phone line into his condo. When he was like this, it was easy to forgive him for his trespasses. He turned on the charm and I dissolved. Everything that I questioned became foggy, unimportant.

"I will see what I can do," I promised. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too."

His tone was hushed, as if he didn't want to admit it to himself. I couldn't doubt his sincerity when he said it like that. This distance thing wasn't just hard on me. Considering this was the first time he was the one left behind, it probably hit him harder than it did me. But being a guy, he refused to show it.

I swallowed down a yawn, suddenly aware of how late the hour was getting. I pulled my cell from my ear to check the time. It was nearly eleven already. If I would have been up in my bedroom, this would have reminded me of our college days. Often, we would end our nights on the phone with one another. I would curl up in my bed at dad's, dressed in a tank and pajama pants, the phone cradled against my shoulder. I would close my eyes and imagine Eric in his dorm room miles away, whispering to his roommate that he needed privacy. We would talk about anything and everything: parents, friends, papers due, exams upcoming, how much we both looked forward to when we could see each other again. His voice would be my lullaby, helping me to drift off to a peaceful sleep. I would fight exhaustion as long as possible just to hear it.

As if he could read my mind, he stated the time. "We'd better get to sleep."

"I know," I said sadly. "I love you."

"I'll see you soon, Lauren. Good night."

With that, he was gone. I stared at my silent phone for a moment, disappointed that he couldn't bring himself to say the same to me. I had gotten something of an admission of affection from him, which was more than usual but less than what I truly wanted. It was always one step forward, two steps back with him. If I waited long enough, eventually he might catch up with me.

"Rome wasn't built in a day," I muttered to myself as I flipped off the light in the living room and mounted the stairs.

A ribbon of light still shone under the door to Blake's office. Inside, I could hear the humming of her sewing machine. No doubt she was working on making someone's dreams come true. Maybe even the client that had called her tonight. I had grown used to the sounds of her working late into the night; instead of bothering me it was now more like one of those white noise machines that people kept by their beds. I paused at the threshold, knocking gently to announce my presence. I turned the knob slowly, intending to pop my head in to tell her goodnight.

Her sewing machine was set up facing away from the door, so her back was turned to me as I entered. Either she hadn't heard the knock or she was intent on finishing her project for she just kept on working. I cleared my throat and she jumped half a mile out of her chair.

"Sorry," I apologized quickly, feeling ten ways of bad.

"It's okay," she said huskily, sniffling and wiping at her eyes quickly.

"Are you okay?" I asked. If I had just seen things correctly, she was crying. To make sure, I circled around the table so she faced me. She had almost wiped the evidence away before I arrived.

"I'm fine. Just multitasking."

She pointed to the fabric that hung down between us, half in, half out of the machine. If I had to guess, I would say it was a curtain of some sort. The gauzy blue creation puddled to the floor.

"Working and having a nervous breakdown at the same time?" I inquired. She nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Her shoulders slumped and for a moment she sat there, debating. I stood and waited patiently. For whatever reason, I wasn't as tired as I had been when I came up to the loft. Perhaps it had everything to do with a possible breakthrough in Blake's formerly impenetrable veneer. If she wanted to talk, I wasn't going anywhere. I would hate myself for it in the morning, but it was a sacrifice I was ready to make. Nothing a few cups of coffee couldn't make tolerable.

Wordlessly she rose from the sewing machine and went out to the sitting area. I followed her out, stopping by the bathroom for a handful of tissues. I handed her one as I sat down beside her on the loveseat. I propped my back against the arm on my side as she blew her nose. I remained silent as she pressed the diamond stud back down flat against her nostril. Apparently nose rings migrated in times of intense emotion.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, tossing the tissue to the small table in front of us, "sometimes I forget you have a degree in accounting and not in psychology. If you don't want to listen to any more of my family's shit, just tell me."

"Don't worry about it. I'm a good listener. I think. Did you and Matthew have a fight? I've never dealt with sibling rivalry myself, but I'm willing to give it a shot."

"No, nothing like that." She shook her head, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. I expected her to rock back and forth. Instead, she sat still as a statue. I waited. She took a deep breath and began quietly.

"I haven't celebrated Christmas for a long time. Not for religious reasons or anything like that. By choice. Sure, I get paid to decorate other people's houses for it, but for me it hasn't existed for years. Since you are here though, I decided that I would try because it means a lot to you. I thought I would be okay with it, like I could pretend you were another client or something, but tonight it just really hit me hard."

"Blake, you don't have to do anything on account of me. If you have a problem with it, just tell me and we'll drop it. It's no big deal."

"But it is a big deal. I have this irrational mental block against a holiday. It's stupid. If you remember the scrapbook, you probably noticed that the articles about the sentencing were written about this time of year."

I nodded, wanting her to continue. Matthew had already shared this much. Of course, she wasn't aware of that.

"Christmas was huge in my parents' house. I'm sure you can imagine that with my dad being a lawyer and my mom being a socialite, we got some pretty extravagant presents. Any excuse they could find to buy gifts they embraced wholeheartedly. I got a brand new car for my sixteenth birthday. I got a Mercedes when I graduated high school. Christmas gifts were no different. We got shopping sprees, vacations, you name it. I was raised that way. I didn't know any different, didn't understand that things like that weren't normal.

"The first time Matthew got arrested, it was pretty much a slap on the wrist. His license got suspended, my dad coughed up money for a fine, stuff like that. All with the understanding that it would never happen again. No harm, no foul more or less.

"So fast forward a few months and Matthew and Chris get invited to this huge party. Since I'm Chris's girlfriend I come along, even though I'm underage. Matthew's girl of the month comes too. They have hit a rough patch, and they are already starting to fight on the way there. Matthew's license is still suspended, so Chris is driving us all. We get to the party and one of the hosts takes Chris's keys. It's an all-nighter, and people are getting trashed.

"Even though it's incredibly stupid to do so, we all start drinking. Obviously, it's illegal for me to have alcohol, and Matthew's on probation. But since we're staying the night, no one will be wiser in the morning, right? Our parents are pretty lax; they could care less where we are as long as we come home in one piece and don't get into trouble. Chris is like super-boyfriend, they trust him immensely and don't mind that I'm out all night with him."

Blake paused to take a breath. It was amazing how talkative she had become. Depression seemed to be a truth serum of sorts for her. I nodded, urging her to continue.

"A couple hours later, we are all severely drunk. Chris and I are having a good time. Matthew and his date have disappeared. Turns out they've gotten into a pretty ugly fight, and she's walked out on him. Matthew gets pissed off and he goes after her. Word gets back to us what's happened, and at first, we don't think anything of it. We figure he's right outside, no big deal. Then we realize that Matthew still has keys to Chris's car – it used to be mine, but my dad sold it when I got the Mercedes. Sure enough, he's taken off in the car.

"Obviously, you know the rest. Matthew gets pulled over and taken to jail, and this time it's not pretty. My dad is beyond mad, and he disowns him. I can't turn my back on my brother, so I get the same treatment. Luckily, by that time, Matthew has bought the house he lives in now, and I move in there."

"And this is why you hate Christmas?" I asked, confused. Sure, I'm grateful for the dialogue, but it doesn't make enough sense to denounce an entire holiday.

"That's the backstory. So, about this time of year, I move out of my parents' mini mansion into Matthew's house. Let's just say it's not in the same condition now as it was then. He bought it dirt cheap as a foreclosure with the intention of fixing it up room by room. It was a roof over my head, and not much else. I guess there was running water and heat and all the important stuff, but it was a major reality check. And the Mercedes was gone, too, parked at my parents'. I used the money in my savings to buy a used Cavalier.

"Gone were the days of a family Christmas. It was like Matthew and I never existed, and I had never been more alone in my life."

She stretched her long limbs, effectively ending the tale. Still, I waited. When the silence became too much to bear, I decided to ask the million dollar question.

"So what about Chris?"

For a moment, I was afraid that she wouldn't answer. Her eyes glazed over with tears, and I knew I had struck a nerve. All that exposition hadn't gotten to the heart of the matter, and she was painfully aware that I knew it.

She sighed deeply before continuing. "I was so mad, Lauren. So angry at myself, my parents, anyone but Matthew. And I know now that I was wrong. As much as I love my brother, he made some really stupid decisions, and he should have paid for them. In a way, he got what he deserved. But then, I assigned that blame to Chris."

"Why?" I inquired, totally confused.

She shook her head sadly. "I was pissed off at him because he didn't try to stop Matthew. Once I thought about it, it made sense to me why he didn't. If we all would have been stumbling around in the night, we might have all gotten caught. He was trying to protect me, but I didn't see it that way. I had expected him to be the knight in shining armor swooping in to save the day, and he didn't.

"For a while, he tried to look after me. I could tell he felt bad. But I pushed him away. I couldn't look at him anymore without hating him for what had happened that night. It was unfair and stupid, and I ended up losing everyone that ever loved me in the span of about six weeks."

"But Matthew wasn't gone. He just wasn't with you."

"I know. But every night I would go to bed in his old crappy house by myself and think of him all alone in jail. I visited him every chance I could, but I don't have to explain to you why that's not the same. With Chris out of the picture, I turned the blame inwardly on myself. And truth be told, Chris was never truly gone. I just never saw him anymore. He would come over and mow the grass when I wasn't there. He made sure that if there was something that went wrong in the house, like a leaky faucet, that either he fixed it or that people magically appeared to fix it for me. I'm sure that he meant for it to be a protective gesture, or he felt he owed it to me, but to me it just felt like him twisting the knife a little deeper."

Lost in her memory, a tear slid down her cheek. I passed her another tissue. "Thanks. The last thing I ever said to him was that I hated him and I wished he would rot in hell."

"Oh, Blake," I whispered as she dissolved into sobs. I reached for her, and she let me embrace her. Being a sympathetic crier myself, tears threatened to spill over my cheeks as well.

"No wonder he hates me," she choked into my shoulder. "I am a horrible person."

"No," I soothed, "you're not a horrible person."

"I am. It's like a freaking divorce. He's still friends with Matthew, you know. And when they're together, I can't be there. That's a big reason why I ended up getting this place. It was too uncomfortable walking around on eggshells all the time. Matthew couldn't have his best friend over because I was there. They always had to find somewhere to go, or go over to Chris's place. I was the third wheel and I hated it."

"Did you ever try talking to him about it?"

She pulled away and stared at me like I was crazy.

"I'll take that as a no. Maybe you should."

"Are you shitting me? He hates me. And he has every right to. I broke his heart and trampled it. I was angry and scared and alone and I took it out on him. I was stupid and mean and I deserve every bad thing that happens to me because of it. He was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I ruined it."

I took a deep breath, my head spinning. I wanted to tell her that I suspected differently, but that would open a whole other can of worms. When I had told her the story of my old tired Honda and how I had gotten home that fateful night, I had conveniently neglected to mention that Chris was a part of it. At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. I had mentioned my omission to Matthew lest he unintentionally bring it up, and he had agreed to go along with the story that he alone had come to my rescue. Unless I could suddenly convince her that I was psychic I would have to come clean in order to share my impressions.

"What if I told you that he doesn't hate you?" I said finally. The truth had won out.

"Yeah, right, whatever," she responded, dabbing at her moist eyes with her sleeve.

"I think he has forgiven you long ago, if he even was mad at you at all."

"That's really nice of you to say, but you don't have to try to make me feel better."

"Blake, I mean it. The guy still drives your old Civic and cares for it like it's a classic car. I've seen it. It's endearing in a stalkerish sort of way."

"What?"

The entire story came spilling out of my mouth, and she sat in wide-eyed disbelief, listening. When I was done, I apologized profusely for keeping secrets, but she just stared at me. I waited for a reaction of any sort but got nothing.

"Blake, you might have broken his heart, but he also broke yours. You may have had unrealistic expectations when it came to him, but when you love someone, that's what happens. You think that they are way more powerful than they really are. But he was only human, and so are you. You both made a mistake. And you are both still grieving for that innocence that you lost."

"That sounds all nice and good, Lauren. I'm glad that you believe that after spending like fifteen minutes with him. I know you're trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate the gesture. But if he was really that distraught, don't you think he would have mentioned it to Matthew? Don't you think they would have planned some sort of intervention to make a discussion happen? Don't you think one night he would have worked up enough courage to drunk dial me? I never changed my phone number. He knows where I work and now where I live. He could ambush me and make me listen."

"Maybe he doesn't think you want to hear it. Maybe he's afraid of rejection."

"Aren't we all?"

"Just consider it, please. It could be like a New Year's resolution. You don't have to get back together or anything, but you could at least bury the hatchet. It sounds like he has been a good friend to your brother, and it would make things a lot easier on that front."

"Me buying my house made things a lot easier on that front. I don't know, Lauren. Sometimes it's just easier to let things die. And we died a long time ago. I'm not anywhere close to the same person that I was. He might not be who he used to be. Who's to say that we wouldn't bite each other's heads off just on general principles? It's not high school anymore. We're not two adolescents who think they know what love is. Maybe it works for you and Eric, but it's not the answer for everyone. Maybe my high school romance was just that, nothing more. A little something to get misty eyed over now and again, but in the end of slight lasting significance."

I winced, uncertain that it was the answer for me either. Her rebuttal had brought me to question my own motives with Eric. Was I holding on to the past, afraid of rejecting him because I didn't want to be alone? Had we changed so much that we were no longer who we were when we got together ten years ago? Was that the reason that Eric never told me he loved me? Did he not know if he did? Did I know?

#### Chapter Twenty-Two

Despite Blake's apparent aversion to Christmas, she never again breathed a word of her torment in the weeks leading up to it. For this reason, and because of Matthew's insistence, I forged ahead with my idea of making her home a tribute of sorts to the holiday. During lunch breaks I would make trips to buy decorations, stashing them everywhere I could think of that she wouldn't look. Soon my trunk, my closet and my office at work were filled with ornaments, tinsel, artificial wreaths and multicolored twinkling lights.

The night before Christmas Eve, things had all seemed to fall into place. George had all but shooed me out of the office at five on the nose. Matthew had met me at a roadside Christmas tree stand and dutifully tethered a six foot evergreen to the roof of his Camry. He followed me home, unloaded the tree and assisted me in setting it up. After an hour or so of helping, he excused himself to attend to Blake.

Somehow he had been able to convince his sister to spend the night at his place. I hadn't asked him how, but I was eternally grateful. I wanted her to walk into the house on Christmas Eve and be completely shocked. In a good way, of course. I might not have her formal training, but Christmas was one thing I knew how to decorate for.

Prior to leaving for work the following morning, I stood in the living room to admire my handiwork. I hadn't gone over the top, preferring the classy traditional look to the gaudy one. The tree was dressed in red and gold ornaments. An old fashioned train set circled the skirt, weaving in and out between the packages displayed. Even with just the three of us celebrating here, it appeared that we had quite a haul. To be fair, I had set out the gifts I was taking to Indy. Matthew had brought over his contribution and added it to the pile as well.

Drawn to the package labeled with my name, I knelt at the tree and picked it up. Like a child, I shook it gently to try to deduce what was inside. The box itself was massive, but it was light as air. Deciding that it wasn't a bowling ball, I set it back down in frustration. I giggled at my immaturity as I stood up to survey the room one last time.

Everything appeared to be in order and I swallowed down my nervousness, silently praying that she wouldn't be offended. Matthew had done all he could to assure me that she wouldn't be. I knew that nobody knew her better than he did, but I still couldn't quiet the nagging feeling that I was flirting with disaster. Knowing it was too late to change my mind, I headed to the bank.

Feeling a little guilty about not staying over the previous evening, I had set my alarm extra early. I wanted to attend to the slew of emails I knew would be waiting in my inbox prior to the rest of the staff showing up. Getting a good head start on the day would help me to feel less guilty about rushing out of the office again at noon. Plus, I wanted to be a little more festive than I had been on Black Friday. No closed office door for me today. If the rest of the office was taking it easy and discussing their plans, I would, too.

Traffic was light, a testament to the early hour. The people who had to work today were still getting ready, and those lucky enough to have the day off were likely still in bed. The roads were clear pavement, no snow in sight. I sighed, more than a little disappointed. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I remembered having a white Christmas. This year looked to be lacking in that department as well. Knowing Indiana weather, we'd have a massive blizzard the day after.

As expected, the parking lot was empty save for George's Lincoln in its usual spot. I had half expected to beat him here, but realized that I should have known better. My dedication to the bank paled in comparison with his. As much as Eric joked about the bank closing its doors because I took the day off, I believed it might be true in George's case. A creature of habit, I pulled into my own favorite spot and shut off the engine.

Even though it hadn't snowed, the wind was still bitter cold. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and mocked myself for the decision to wear a skirt. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and with parking in the garage at home I hadn't given any thought to the blustery conditions. By the time I reached the door, I resembled a Lauren sized popsicle. Hopefully the temperature would raise a few degrees by the time I was ready to leave.

Instrumental Christmas music greeted me as I entered. The volume was turned up a few notches louder than normal. I wondered if it would stay that way all day or get switched to a lower volume once the masses appeared. In any case, it meant that George was undoubtedly a Christmas person. I smiled to myself at the thought and caught myself humming a few bars horribly off-key. What I lacked in talent I made up for with spirit.

I rounded the corner to my office, squinting as I approached. Funny, I hadn't remembered closing the door when I left last night. In fact, it wasn't ever part of my routine. However, the door was most certainly closed when I reached it. Maybe the cleaning crew had gotten new instructions or something. I placed my hand hesitantly on the doorknob and turned. I must have been watching too many horror movies in my down time. It wasn't as though a dead body was going to jump out at me or anything.

I shook my head and flicked on the light switch. Then I froze in place at the threshold. Someone had most definitely been in my office after my departure. I didn't have to venture a guess to determine who that was. Blake's presence radiated from the walls. While I had been decorating her house, she had been slaving away at my place of employment.

The old standard issue office furniture was gone, replaced with pieces that were decidedly more modern. New artwork had been mounted, adding color to the otherwise drab walls. I was half surprised that she hadn't managed to sneak in a couple cans of paint to spruce things up. I imagined if she had she would have been handily turned down. Banks were funny about that kind of thing.

I strode over to my new desk to find a set of keys placed atop an unnecessary greeting card. As I suspected, the keys belonged to the top two drawers. I unlocked them to find all of my things had been neatly transferred over and organized just so. If she didn't know me, no one did. I shut the drawer of pens and pencils and noticed something else out of the corner of my eye. A picture frame stood guard over my workstation. I reached for it to pull it closer. Inside was a candid shot of Blake, Matthew and me taken on Thanksgiving.

I remembered Gracie carrying around her camera at Matthew's house that day, but for the life of me didn't recall that picture being snapped. The three of us were standing around his concrete island, deep in an animated conversation. The way our eyes sparkled, the expressions on our faces would lead anyone to believe that we had known each other for years, not weeks. It surprised me to have a visual of how at home I felt in my new surroundings. To realize that Gracie had been in on this in at least a small role made it all the more special.

I had just opened Blake's card, a traditional Christmas greeting with the words "Please don't be mad! Love, Blake" scrawled across it when I noticed George hovering in the doorway. Our eyes met and he walked the rest of the way in the room, perching on one of the undoubtedly designer chairs across from me. Any doubt that possibly existed in regards to his being an accomplice to the redecoration efforts were effectively erased by the smirk across his otherwise distinguished face.

"Merry Christmas, Lauren," he grinned.

I set the card down on the desktop and responded with my own smile. "Merry Christmas, George. I guess it's no longer a secret why you were so eager for me to get out of here last night."

"The cat is pretty much out of the bag, yes. Let's just say that your roommate is both talented and persuasive. I think she felt a little bad about asking me to stay late, but it really was no bother. I had plenty to do here, and she worked faster than I thought was possible. Of course, her brother did come a little bit later to help, too."

"That explains it," I said more to myself than to him. When George looked at me quizzically, I felt the need to elaborate. "Matthew met me after work and I got about an hour of labor out of him before he left to help her. The funny thing is, I decorated our house for Christmas."

"Ironic, huh? They seem like good people. But don't think she left without giving a sales pitch. She made sure to give me her business card just in case the bank is interested in some redecorating in general."

I smiled. The few times she had met me for lunch she had always commented on how bleak and uninspired our surroundings were here. My retort was usually along the lines of bankers not being creative types. She did have a point though. The changes she had made in my office transformed it entirely. The space around me felt warm and inviting, no longer cold and imposing.

"Think we'll take her up on it?" I asked, referring to the bank as a whole.

George responded with a shrug. "Not really my call. I'm sure her services don't come cheap."

"I don't know. Everything she does for me is free. Perhaps I could negotiate a family discount."

He chuckled. "I won't hold my breath. So, big plans for the holiday?"

I shrugged. "I guess you could call it that. Blake and Matthew and I are having our gift exchange this afternoon. Then tomorrow it's down to Indy with my dad and boyfriend. Depending on how things go, I might head down there tonight. I'm not sure yet."

"Well, whatever happens, make sure you enjoy yourself. You deserve it."

"Thanks. What about you?"

"The kids and grandkids will be over tonight. Tomorrow will be a nice, quiet day with just me and the wife."

"Sounds good. You have fun yourself."

"We always do."

He rose from the chair and placed his hand on the edge of my desk. "Don't work too hard today."

I looked up at him with a twinkle in my eye. "I would tell you that I never do, but something seems wrong about saying that to your boss. So instead, I'll just let that go."

"And I would know that you were lying, anyway," he retorted.

I watched as he retreated back to his own substantially less decorated office. Settling back in my soft leather chair, I took in my surroundings once more just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. With a space like this, it was easy to pretend that I had reached the big time. So what if this wasn't a corner office with a view of the downtown skyline like our colleagues at the main office had? My little portion of the banking world now more resembled that of high level executive than middle management. If I squeezed my eyes shut hard enough, I could pretend anyway.

I dug my cell out of my purse and texted Blake a simple "Love it!" before stashing it away. It was just now nearing eight in the morning, and the rest of my coworkers were filing in. I doubted that Blake would have returned home yet, so her surprise hadn't yet been revealed. I would thank her in person later, but something this monumental just couldn't be ignored for a few hours. I had to give her at least a taste of gratification now. I realized that a little piece of her went into everything she created, and doing this for me was almost as much of a gift to herself.

Despite her mad talent, she had been so brainwashed by her parents' abandonment that deep down she didn't believe her own hype. Sure she could turn on the charm like George had mentioned earlier, but I knew better. She had a hard time accepting other people's praise of her work. That, coupled with her tendency towards perfectionism led her to think that nothing was ever good enough, that the job was never truly finished. I supposed that everyone who was creative by nature shared a little bit of that sentiment, but for her the feeling was multiplied tenfold.

As George had alluded to earlier, a bare minimum amount of work was accomplished during the four hours we were there. Several employees had taken vacation time to extend their holiday and the rest of us that were there had only shown up physically. The festive spirit flowed throughout the building and no one seemed to mind the lack of production. Compared to the branch setting, where the tellers were typically slammed with customers on a day like this, the atmosphere here was decidedly more laid back. Corporate had supplied us with quite a spread of donuts, fruit, bagels and coffee cake. George made the rounds with our Christmas bonus checks. Tucked into the envelopes along with the checks were scratch-off lottery tickets. The entire office went silent as everyone pulled out coins and set to work seeing if they had a winner. Occasional cheers would ring out as people scratched off prizes. I was not one of them.

Unlike the day after Thanksgiving, I kept my office door open. As word of Blake's gift spread, a steady stream of people came through to inspect the goods. Ever the dutiful roommate, I supplied some of the most impressed with Blake's business cards, which I had found handily stored in my top drawer. I guessed I owed her the free marketing. She really had done an awesome job. I had told some people about her already and the awesome bedroom that she had created for me, but it wasn't like I felt comfortable inviting them to our house to show it off. Here her talents were on display for everyone to see.

For perhaps the first time since I had transferred here, I really felt like part of the team. The joyful atmosphere had permeated my mental wall and broken down my guard. I had always felt like I deserved the promotion, had never doubted my ability to do the job, but had felt like I had so much to prove. With my desire to be taken seriously, I had shut off my own personality. Today I was smiling and laughing and genuinely having a good time.

Out of the corner of my eye I had noticed George watching me closely as I flitted from group to group, commenting appropriately during some exchanges, merely listening in to others. I saw him nod approvingly in my direction at one point and it filled me with a surge of pride. Never had I felt such a sense of belonging. Any doubt that had been placed in my mind by Eric had been erased.

I was good at this. Just like Eric was good at what he did. For him to expect me to give up this part of me to be with him was like me asking him to give up his own career for me. It just wasn't fair to either one of us. No, to make this relationship work we had to meet in the middle. In and of itself, the realization was simple. The hard part would be figuring out just how to do that.

Back in my car after the workday ended, I cranked the heater on full blast and set to work debating on how to make that happen. The temperature hadn't warmed up as much as I'd hoped and my legs were frozen. For starters, I resolved to drive down to Indy tonight like Eric had wanted me to. The idea had already been bouncing around in my head since he had suggested it, and I felt like it was my duty as his girlfriend to accept the invitation.

As much as I complained about him not making enough honest efforts to see me, I would be a hypocrite if I wasted this opportunity. Truth be told, I saw Blake and Matthew all of the time. Even if I made it to Eric's condo late in the evening, I could still wake up in the morning next to him. We would have some alone time prior to heading over to my father's house for the official holiday visit. I owed him that much. I already had to hurry back home so that I could work the next day; it would be unfair to drive down all that way and not even have a chance to discuss us. It wasn't quite the conversation I wanted to have in front of my dad, and we hadn't really spoken about it since our huge fight at Matthew's house.

That settled, a new wave of anxiety pitted itself in my stomach as I drove home. I hadn't heard from Blake yet. I prayed that she wasn't angry with me for conducting my own ambush redecoration. Or worse yet, I hoped that she hadn't holed herself up in her bedroom, curled up in the fetal position on her circular mattress. No news was good news, right?

And on to Matthew and the giant box that contained the gift he told me I'd love. Even though Blake had come up with a plan to explain it away should Eric inquire, I was still worried sick about it. If it was fantastic like advertised would my gift to him be sufficient? And what would that imply if he had gotten me the perfect gift?

I decided that things would be a lot easier if his gift to me sucked. I would accept it graciously and tuck it away in the deep recesses of my closet, never to be seen again. Guys had a false sense of bravado about these kinds of things anyway. In reality he probably had gotten me the scented candle or bottle of lotion I expected and was playing it up like it was the best thing ever. Nothing to stress out over. We had known each other for a couple months, which was hardly any length of time at all.

Matthew's car was already in the driveway like I expected it to be, parked as usual on Blake's side. I pulled my car into the garage and mentally prepared myself for whatever was to come. Depressed roommates, flying Christmas ornaments, white elephant gifts, I could deal with it all. I placed my hand on the doorknob that led to the kitchen and took a deep breath, waiting for the chaos to ensue.

Instead, I was greeted by an empty kitchen. The breakfast bar was covered with food, laid out buffet style, but the siblings were nowhere to be seen. I set down my purse on the table in the nook and followed their voices into the living room. They were both seated on the sectional, staring at the Christmas tree. A fire burned in the fireplace, the one and only time so far I had seen that feature used.

"Hi guys," I said hesitantly, my inflection more of a question than a greeting, "what are you doing?"

"Hey, gorgeous," Matthew drawled warmly, and the butterflies in my stomach melted away.

Blake sprang up from the couch and engulfed me in a hug. "It's so beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," I said as she pulled away, holding me at arm's length. Tears glistened in her beautiful blue eyes, and I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat. I yanked her into another embrace. "Thank you for my office. It's perfect."

She sniffled slightly before responding. "You're welcome, too. I'm glad you like it."

"Of course I do. It's a Blake Snyder original. How many people get gifts like that for Christmas?"

"Only the people in this room," Matthew quipped. "Trust me, the novelty wears off after a couple of years. You start to just wish for gift certificates or something normal."

Blake snorted and pulled away for real this time. Her brother had risen from the couch to come stand by us, and she slugged him playfully. Her composure had returned in spades.

"And thank you, too," I said, impulsively giving Matthew a hug, "since I know for a fact you helped."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," he whispered, squeezing my shoulder. The contact sent a shiver down my spine.

"Well," I said quickly, pulling back from him before Blake could find our interaction inappropriate, "I'm going to change into something warmer and then it looks like it's time to eat."

I excused myself to my room where I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and tried to calm myself down. I reminded myself that I was the one who had instigated the touching, and had done so without having ulterior motives. I was good with hugging; friends did it all the time. Christmas was an especially common time to embrace someone innocently. I had done nothing wrong. And Matthew was just being himself, using his nicknames, and nothing more had been meant by that, either.

Between Blake and Eric analyzing everything that happened in regards to Matthew and me, it was easy to put anything under the microscope and have it come out suspicious. Now I was doing it myself.

Before I was gone long enough to require a search party to come rescue me, I headed back down the stairs. Blake and Matthew had already gone into the kitchen and I grabbed a plate as well. With the breakfast I'd had at work I really wasn't all that hungry, but I didn't want to insult Blake's effort. She had gone to a lot of work to put this together and I could choke down a ham sandwich and some side dishes to show my appreciation.

I deliberately took longer plating my food than the others so that I could scope out the seating arrangements without looking obvious. Thankfully, Matthew sat at one end of the breakfast bar with Blake between us. I took my stool with relief, not wanting to tempt fate again. Neither one of them seemed to notice that anything was amiss. This further supported my theory that I was making a mountain out of a molehill and I began to relax.

"So," Blake turned to me, "how did you usually spend Christmas when you lived back home?"

I shrugged, poking at the macaroni salad on my plate with my fork. "Well, ever since I started at the bank I've had to work on Christmas Eve. So I never officially did anything. After Gracie and I met, we would do our gift exchange then. Sometimes Eric would come over later, or I'd go over to his place. Christmas was always the big day. That's when I would go over to my dad's and do the traditional holiday stuff. Being in Fort Wayne hasn't really changed any of that. Gracie's coming over to my dad's tomorrow, but that's no big deal."

In a normal conversation I typically would have asked her how she spent past Christmases but given the circumstances I bit my tongue. She had expounded a little on the Snyder Family Christmas during her breakdown the other night. Anything my father would have ever provided would pale in comparison, though I had the distinct feeling that she would have traded places with me in a heartbeat.

"And Eric?" she asked.

I heard Matthew groan. I didn't blame him. Blake rarely passed up an opportunity to insert my boyfriend into the conversation, especially when her brother was in the same room. It was like she was wanted to make us both keenly aware of the fact that I was taken, just in case either one of us forgot. The attraction between us she had halfway nurtured in the beginning had grown repulsive to her ever since the night I drove his Mustang. If I didn't know better, I would think she was one of Eric's closest allies. Though she at times played devil's advocate she was only doing so to protect her brother, possibly even me.

"Eric always comes to my father's house on Christmas. His parents are always gone, usually in Florida, at this time of year. It's been our thing for the past ten years."

I stabbed at my food violently, my fork jutting through the Styrofoam plate. I took a deep breath and calmly set about extricating it before continuing.

"He asked me to drive down tonight and spend the night at his place."

"And?" Blake arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

"I'm seriously thinking about it," I conceded.

Even though my mind was already made up and had been for a couple hours, I had a difficult time saying that in Matthew's presence. For some reason, it seemed better to act like I was on the fence about it. After we had enjoyed our festivities here, I could pretend like I had just decided to go and excuse myself gracefully. No need to let Eric's shadow dampen two holidays in a row.

I snuck a peek over at Matthew. His head was bowed as he concentrated a little too closely on his plate. Even though he pretended not to care, I knew he had heard every word and committed it to memory. Blake's interrogation had served its purpose, further driving a wedge between us and any burgeoning flirtations. Noticing her success, Blake quieted and we finished our meal in relative silence.

#### Chapter Twenty-Three

The somber mood continued as the three of us cleaned up the kitchen. As I wiped up the counter I found myself wishing that things would have gone differently. I wasn't sure how I could have redirected the conversation without lying outright, but still. I had wanted to create a happy occasion for the two of them and this was turning out to be anything but.

"Keep doing that and you'll wear a hole in the granite," Matthew whispered as he walked behind me.

My hand froze and I released the sponge I had been using. Now that he mentioned how hard I was scrubbing, I realized how tense my body had become. I flexed my fingers and continued at a much gentler clip.

With his sister's head stuck in the refrigerator as she placed the leftovers inside, he braved further commentary. "I know she's being a buzzkill, but it's just her nature."

I considered his argument as I watched him retreat to the pantry to dump the armload of disposable dinnerware into the trash. He had a point. I imagined that if I had been disowned by my family at Christmastime after growing accustomed to presents such as vacations and Mercedes I would be a little callous myself. Her lingering issues and my perfectionism weren't meshing well today. Sure, on the outside our little get together looked worthy of a photo shoot, but I wanted the total package.

Speaking of packages, my stomach clenched slightly as I thought about the imminent gift exchange looming ahead. I had agonized over Matthew's gift ever since he had mentioned how much I would love the one he had chosen for me. He hadn't been too far off by suggesting that I would employ a spreadsheet approach for my gift selection. I had racked my brain contemplating ideas for what to get him, debating about hidden meanings. After a few nights scrawling down thoughts and scribbling the majority of them out, I had reluctantly made up my mind, realizing that the big day was fast approaching and that he would end up with nothing if I waited a second longer. I closed my eyes and mouthed a silent prayer that he wouldn't think my selection was too cheesy. In reality, it tied in nicely with what I was getting him for his birthday in mid-January. So if he hated it, I was doubly screwed.

Putting on a brave front, I cleared my throat. "I think it's as good of a time as any to unwrap our gifts, don't you?"

Blake clasped her hands together and for a moment she looked just like an eager child. I smiled at her reaction; maybe I had written this day off a little too soon. Things were definitely salvageable.

"Sounds good to me," she proclaimed as she headed into the living room, leaving Matthew and me to trail behind her. Her excitement was contagious, and the trepidation I had concerning the event in question began to dissipate.

Even though Blake and I had already swapped rather extravagant presents, we had still bought each other a few small items. What fun was a Christmas tree with no presents underneath? With beauty products being my not-so-secret obsession, she had chosen a makeup set for me that contained tons of eyeshadows, blushes and lip glosses all contained in a purple train case. I would have been content to run up to my room right then and there to experiment, but instead pushed it aside and thanked her profusely. I didn't want to tally up the cost of the office redecoration in my head; I would feel way too guilty. Even with donating her labor, I was certain that the new furniture hadn't come cheap.

I had picked out a blue cashmere blend sweater for her that coordinated perfectly both with her eyes and her hair streak. I was no slouch; I knew that blue was her favorite color for clothing, this tone especially. Her wardrobe was full of it, and why not? When she wore it, her skin looked even more porcelain like, her hair like spun gold, her eyes more striking. If I had been blessed with her coloring, my entire closet would be full of the shade.

"Thank you so much!" she gushed, yet again embracing me.

All traces of her less than festive demeanor had vanished. Once more she was all smiles, and I sat back, quite impressed with myself. So far this had worked out perfectly. Whatever Christmases Blake and Matthew had endured since the incident had been forgotten, at least for the time being. I was sure that this particular year would be remembered fondly, a new beginning in their journey as a family of two.

Matthew opened his presents from Blake next: a new iPod – predictably in blue – and a scrapbook that gave him pause. As he flipped through the pages, he was visibly moved by the contents. Blake sat next to him on the floor, beaming at him. I sat across from them, feeling small and insignificant. It was as though I was watching a movie in a foreign language and everyone else could read the subtitles except for me. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but still had the unmistakable feeling that I was intruding on something very personal.

"Wow," he whispered as he carefully closed the album, "I don't know what to say."

Blake smiled and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that you're the best brother ever and that no matter what, I will always love you."

"I love you, too, sunshine," he said softly, reaching over and tousling her hair, "but now that candle I got you seems really lame."

Blake smoothed her silky tresses and laughed. She quickly wiped away the moisture that had collected in her eyes as she accepted the gift he extended her way. It was in fact a candle, but as she pulled it from the packaging, a silver locket had been fastened around the glass jar. She unclasped it and let it slide down into her outstretched palm. Her fingers trembled as she undid the hinge to see what, if anything, had been placed inside. Never one to disappoint, Matthew looked on as she reacted emotionally to the contents.

Her tears came in earnest as he took the necklace from her, lifting her curls away from her shoulders to fasten the present around her neck. With the clasp secured firmly, he let her hair down so it pooled in glorious waves. He brushed her tears away with both thumbs, then kissed her gently on the top of her head.

A lump formed in my throat as I watched the scene take place. I knew I had just witnessed something profound, even if I couldn't put a name to it. Another emotion bubbled in my stomach which I surprisingly recognized as a twinge of jealousy. The bond between them as brother and sister was so strong, something that I as an only child would never get to experience. To be so close to someone of the opposite sex, to be their biggest supporter, their greatest protector without any fear of your actions being misunderstood as romantic in nature was a feeling that I would never have.

As much as I told myself that Matthew treated me in the same regard, I second guessed everything he did. Every touch, every snide comment, every glance in my direction I over-analyzed until I was positive that he had instilled a deeper meaning into it. As much as I had insisted to both Eric and Blake that nothing was going on, in reality, I wanted to be the object of his attention. I didn't want him to treat me like a sister or even a friend. I was the one who wanted something more.

I bit my lip almost to the point of drawing blood. The realization was like a sharp blow to my stomach, and a wave of nausea passed over me. Eric was right; he had been all along. Guys and girls couldn't be just friends without one of the parties wanting more. Only instead of Matthew wanting more, as Eric had not so subtly implied, it was me. I was the one who got caught up in the game, who secretly fed off of the jealousy that Matthew's innocent actions elicited from my boyfriend.

I liked to feel wanted, and Matthew was able to give me that, even if it wasn't in a romantic way. Perversely, I was getting from him what I had been missing from Eric all along. In the short weeks that we had known each other, Matthew had filled that role that had been vacant for as long as I could remember. He was my shoulder to cry on, my rock when I needed strength. He was my stand-in when Eric couldn't or wouldn't show up to do his rightful job and I had been all too willing to use him and attach undeserved meaning to it.

"Lauren?" Matthew's voice interrupted my reverie. From his tone and the look of concern on his face, I gathered it wasn't the first time he had said my name.

I jumped to attention, hoping that the smile I plastered on my features seemed genuine enough. "Sorry, I guess I was off in my own little world."

"Yeah, I'd say," Blake grinned. "You guys are up. Last two presents of the day."

I consulted the Christmas tree to make sure. Her inventory of the situation was correct. My present to Matthew and the large box that contained my gift from him were the only ones remaining to be given at this particular celebration. The rest of the gifts under the tree I would be taking to Indianapolis with me shortly to be opened at my father's house tomorrow.

Blake passed out our presents; of course the one for Matthew was decidedly heavier than the one she handed to me. I already knew that from my sneak peek this morning. I set the massive box on my lap, toying with the red ribbon instead of ripping into the wrapping paper. Oddly enough, Matthew didn't dive into his, either. Blake looked at us, confusion lighting her features, then threw up her hands in frustration. "What are you two waiting for?"

We both said approximately the same thing at about the same time: "I wanted to watch him/her open it."

She snorted. "What am I going to do with the two of you? Open them at the same time. The suspense is killing me."

We did as instructed, neither one of us eager to disappoint the self-promoted mistress of ceremonies. Truth be told, the methodical tearing open of my gift did help to occupy my mind a little and keep me from focusing on what his reaction would be to what I had chosen. I was still nervous that he wouldn't like it, especially after the present that Blake had gotten him appeared to knock one out of the ballpark, whatever it was.

It was no surprise that when I removed the top of the box all I saw was a sea of packing peanuts. I glanced up at Matthew to see if he was looking at me, but he was focused extricating his own present. I reached down into the Styrofoam and wiggled my hand around, finally touching the corner of an envelope. I fished it out of the box, sending a flurry of peanuts to the carpet. The envelope was a bright green and not written on, but still sealed. I slid my finger in the small gap at the top to open it.

Inside was a card, very similar to the one that had been left by Blake on my desk at work. I wondered if they had pooled their resources and gotten one small box of greeting cards. The humor in this thought made me smile at first, then saddened me as I realized that if they did so it was only because of their lack of people to share the holiday with. I opened the card, a folded piece of paper fluttering to the floor as I did so.

My breath hitched as I read the inscription.

To Lauren,

Your acceptance means more than you will ever know. Thank you for being the most radiant light in a world that has been dark for far too long.

I love you, too.

Matthew

I read the short message over and over, until, once again, I felt that all eyes were on me. When I looked up, I saw that Matthew had clearly stopped unwrapping his present from me to watch for my reaction. My lips parted a couple different times, but no sound came out. His sentiment had left me speechless. Though I knew it was directly related to the night at his house when I had been attempting to convince him to join us for Thanksgiving, I had been utterly unprepared for it. Hell, I hadn't even meant to say it to him, but it had popped out against my better judgment. And here it was again, coming back at me from the person who had vowed he didn't deserve that affection from me. No matter how it was intended, the gravity of the moment was huge.

He had freely told me he loved me. Written it down, even, so that I couldn't pretend I had misunderstood him. This had been done intentionally, for posterity; it couldn't be taken back. It had been wrapped up and given to me, had sat in my home unbeknownst to me. Now that I had seen it, there were no do-overs. He couldn't rip the card from my hands and brainwash me into thinking I had imagined it; the image would be forever burned into my memory. He had given me a piece of his heart.

He had given me what I wanted most from Eric but had never gotten.

"By the way, the card is not your present," he said softly. "This is."

While I had been quietly freaking out, he had set down his own still unopened gift and crossed over to where I sat. In his hand he held the paper that had fallen out of the envelope. He held it out to me, on bended knee, his eyes firmly locked with mine. The Christmas tree behind him illuminated the scene, and if I scrunched my eyes closed far enough, this whole thing took on a far different meaning.

It was best not to go there, not to think that way.

My lips still unable to form words, I nodded dumbly and took the paper from him. My fingers trembled as I unfolded the page. I calmed slightly once I realized that the sheet appeared to be a poster of some sort printed off the computer. For a moment, I had been expecting even more shocking revelations – a lengthy letter, a poem, I wasn't sure what. I blinked to clear the panic-induced cloudiness from my vision and met those beautiful eyes yet again. Matthew smiled at me encouragingly, and I turned back to the mystery he had represented as my gift.

It was, in fact, a poster of sorts, the kind that smaller clubs and bars prepare to advertise a coming event to their venue. I scanned the information quickly and gathered that Parabelle would be playing an upcoming show in Indianapolis. The bar was a place I had never heard of but I was at least familiar enough with the area. The show was on a Friday night in February.

"We're going?" I whispered.

"I promised you we would, right?" was his response.

I was instantly transported back to that night in November and all of the emotional ups and downs I had felt then. I relived them all tenfold as he continued on about his plans for the evening. He noted that with February weather being so unpredictable we likely wouldn't get to take the Mustang like I'd said I wanted to. He talked about how we would have just enough time to grab something quick to eat after work and then head down to Indy for the show. He seemed just as excited about the adventure as I did, perhaps even more so.

"Thank you," I interrupted him, realizing that Blake remained in the room with us. I wondered what she made of all this; her expression was unreadable. Fortunately, she didn't look upset. I doubted that she knew how he had signed my card and I wasn't about to mention it.

"You're welcome," he said, understanding my silent cue.

"Now open yours," I urged, "I don't think I can stand to wait any longer."

"Okay," he said as he rose to his feet and gave me a quick hug. "We'll talk later."

I nodded again, slowly getting my wits about me with each passing moment. I stashed the poster back into the card and set it as close to me as possible for safekeeping. Until I could store this gift away somewhere private, I wasn't about to let it out of my sight.

Matthew returned to his spot by the tree and picked up his present. As he slowly unwrapped it, I felt that familiar twinge of uncertainty as I wondered if my gift would be as well received. The waiting was excruciating, and as he pulled the final traces of paper off I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

"Oh wow," he said softly, "this is awesome. Thank you, gorgeous."

"You're welcome."

"What is it?" Blake asked with interest. Obviously at some point Matthew had told her what my gift was, but I hadn't spilled the beans on his. Either that, or she couldn't care less about what her brother had gotten me. I doubted that was true. She scooted closer to him to get a better look.

Back when Matthew had given me a tour of his home, I had noticed several pieces of hockey memorabilia scattered about. Based on that, I had gathered that he was quite the Red Wings fan. Of course, his conversations with me never touched upon that subject. I assumed that he saved that kind of talk for his evenings out with Chris. So I had gone out on a limb and purchased a large framed panoramic photograph of the interior of Joe Louis Arena. The print itself was pretty cool, even for a non-hockey lover.

"Nice," Blake said. Her inflection implied that she was appreciative of the artwork, not the subject matter.

"Yes, it is," he confirmed. "Now I need to figure out where to put it. Maybe over the fireplace?" He turned to Blake, giving her a pointed look that suggested he was asking her for her professional opinion.

She shrugged playfully. "I thought you only wanted gift cards from me. I figured my services are no longer desired."

"Every once in a while would be fine. Like now."

"I thought so. We'll figure it out tomorrow, I'm sure."

"Or tonight?" Matthew asked, "We could always move the party back to my place."

"No way," Blake said, elbowing him, "You convinced me to stay at your place last night. Tonight, the sleepover's on my turf. Besides, you haven't decorated for the holiday."

"You didn't either," Matthew grinned, "your roommate did."

"I guess you have a point."

As their conversation turned to their typical sibling banter, I took the opportunity to slip upstairs with my gifts. A smile lit my face as I shut the door on their good natured ribbing. They would be together on Christmas morning just like almost every other year. I hadn't considered a sleepover; I wondered if that idea had sprouted after I'd expressed the possibility of heading down to Indy early. Knowing Blake, if I decided to stay here until morning, she'd shelve the option. After the past month or so, I couldn't fathom her allowing Matthew and me to spend the entire night together, chaperoned or not.

I tucked Matthew's card into my sock drawer, buried underneath the tightly balled up cotton pairs. Part of me considered taking it with me to show to Gracie, but I knew how dangerous that would be. Even a picture snapped on my cell would be subject to discovery by Eric. There was no need to add fuel to that fire. I would just have to settle for attempting to have a private moment with her during all of the chaos. I knew how easily she would jump to the improbable conclusion that he was declaring his most intimate feelings, not just a token of friendship. I had to admit that I was looking forward to hearing her wild ideas. It was flattering to think that someone like myself could be caught up in a love triangle, no matter how far-fetched.

I set to work packing a small overnight bag with the essentials for my road trip. A pair of jeans and a sweater would suffice for my father's house; he wasn't overly traditional. My new train case from Blake also made the cut, along with my shampoo and conditioner. I had pajamas and a toothbrush at Eric's as well as a small hairdryer that did a good enough job. Just the basics at his place, nothing more. With me being there so little it was hardly practical to have my entire arsenal duplicated at the condo. Still, he had seemed appeased by the fact that I had left some belongings there. Before I exited my room, I grabbed an empty fabric shopping bag for the gifts I was bringing.

My descent down the stairs with the bags clearly announced my intentions. Both Blake and Matthew watched as I filled the empty bag with the remainder of the unopened presents.

"Leaving so soon?" Blake asked with a hint of surprise.

I nodded. "I figure the damage here is done. If I get too comfortable here, I'll probably end up in a food coma and miss Christmas in Indy all together. As it is, I probably won't get to Eric's before it gets dark."

Blake crossed the room to give me yet another hug. "Thanks again for everything. And drive safely."

"You're welcome. And I will."

I squeezed her tightly before letting go. A moment of awkward silence passed as her brother and I debated on our send off. He hovered a few feet away, as unsure as I was of what to do next.

"I'll help you to your car," Matthew volunteered. He lifted both bags easily and I followed him empty-handed out to the kitchen. I collected my purse and coat from their position at the table and fell into step behind him yet again.

Once the garage door had been secured tightly behind us and we were safely out of Blake's earshot, I swallowed hard and attempted to summon my courage. There were so many things that I wanted to say, that I wanted to ask him that I was afraid they would all come out in an incomprehensible heap. Instead of going for the most pressing question on my mind I chose instead to ask the one I figured I had the most chance of getting an answer to.

As casually as I could, I popped the trunk and walked to the back of my car. His eyes were focused on the task at hand. With him not looking at me, conversation was simpler. "What did Blake get you, anyway?"

He set my bags in the car before answering. "She put together a scrapbook of pictures of the two of us growing up. Just us, no other family members. Some of those pictures I haven't seen in years. When everything happened, I never thought about taking them with me and just assumed that they were gone forever. Apparently Blake grabbed a whole bunch of stuff that I didn't know about and saved it."

"That's a pretty awesome gift."

"I have a pretty awesome sister," he admitted. "I'll show you the pictures sometime."

"I'd like that. And what was in the locket you gave her?"

"A tiny copy of the picture of us on her mantle. As grownups, not as kids."

"Some people might say that you're a pretty awesome brother."

Even though the bags had been put down several seconds prior, he continued staring into the trunk. He shrugged. "Maybe sometimes. I have a lot of making up to do for things, though."

"I think she'd beg to differ. I know I do. Sometimes I'm jealous of the relationship the two of you have."

That caught his attention like I intended it to. His eyes swung up to meet mine. Deep ocean blue orbs stared down at me, squinting slightly as he posed his silent question.

"Being an only child," I continued, "I never got to experience that kind of bond. I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother or a sister. Someone who had grown up with you and knew everything there was to know about you and loved you anyway."

"Sometimes it's like that," he mused, "but other times I think I'd be just as happy choking her."

I snorted.

"You would have made someone a wonderful sister, but it just wasn't in the cards."

"I guess it wasn't. I'm just beginning to understand why it never happened. Because I was so young when my mom died, I never saw for myself how much my dad loved her. Part of me wanted him to date again or get remarried and create an instant family. Now I realize that he could never do that. My mom was his soulmate, pure and simple. I only hope I'm lucky enough to have that, too."

"You don't have that with the boyfriend?"

"I have the feeling that if I have to ask myself that, I probably don't."

"Then why stay?"

That was the million dollar question. I sighed deeply and averted my eyes to the ground, tracing circles upon the concrete floor with the toe of my boot. He allowed me my silence for a few moments before he moved to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, effectively prompting me for a response.

"My parents are like the gold standard of relationships. If I keep trying to compare my relationship with Eric to that, it's always going to come up short. Maybe I'm not meant to find that soulmate experience. Or maybe I have, but I can't see it because I'm too focused on all of his faults."

"Well, there's enough of them there to keep you occupied for a while," he grinned, then thought better of it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't worry about it."

I placed my hand on the trunk to close it at exactly the same time Matthew did. Together, we lowered the trunk until it latched closed. Our fingers remained on the lid long after the contents of the trunk had been secured inside, dangerously close to one another. I contemplated shifting my weight so that I accidentally bumped into him, but my hand remained frozen in place. It didn't matter anyway; he beat me to the punch.

As his hand grasped mine, I caught him looking nervously towards the door that led inside. We had been out here for a few minutes now, and I could tell he was debating whether he had enough time to say something else before Blake sent out a search party. His touch burned like always and my resolve to get in the car and drive off began to melt away.

"Lauren, I –"

"I really need to leave,"

The words came all at once. If I had waited a second longer to bow out gracefully, I might not have said anything at all. I wanted to hear his confession, but as it was, my badly timed sentiment stopped that train of thought completely. His eyes closed and he nodded slowly. He released my hand and it swung back to my side.

"Matthew," I said softly, "we'll talk later, okay?"

"Sure," he said, summoning all of his strength to sound optimistic. His face contorted as he pulled me to him for a quick hug. Before he let me go, his lips brushed the top of my head, sending shivers down my spine. "Now go make the boyfriend happy."

#### Chapter Twenty-Four

Eric's BMW greeted me in the parking garage, a silent reminder to gather up my composure and remember who I was here to see and what I intended to accomplish. I pulled the Sonata in next to it, for the first time feeling no shame in my choice of transportation. Sure, his vehicle still cost nearly double mine, but I refused to feel embarrassed about that. As I climbed out and went around back to the trunk, I stared at the shiny red beauty and almost forgave him for being so anal about his car. I could finally see where he was coming from.

The two hour drive to Indy was the first lengthy road trip I had taken in my new car so far. It would have been enjoyable if I hadn't have been so preoccupied. Instead of calling Gracie as I had intended, I had sped down here in silence, not even turning on the radio. My mind was reeling with the words Matthew had written in his card to me and the things that had been left unsaid. I knew I was getting ahead of myself. The two things may not even have been related, but I was numb nonetheless.

I fired off a quick text to Blake to let her know that I had arrived in one piece. She didn't respond back, but I knew that if I wouldn't have informed her, she would have called in a couple hours looking for me. Knowing that she was with Matthew tonight, I wondered what they would talk about. I seriously doubted he would confide whatever it was he had been about to say, but I couldn't be sure. The way he had looked about prior to beginning indicated that it was for my ears only. However, Blake had an uncanny ability to weed out the truth. I wouldn't blame him if he caved and told her first.

I grabbed both bags and headed to the elevator. The parking garage was quiet tonight, most spaces occupied by cars. I imagined families sitting at home with one another, opening presents or maybe packing bags to head out on the roads first thing in the morning. Guiltily, my mind flashed to Eric sitting alone in his condo unsure whether or not I would show up. In a perfect world, in a perfect relationship, there would have been no doubt that I would appear on his doorstep tonight even if I would have had to drive cross country.

When I got to his door, I set down the bags and rummaged around in my purse for the key to Eric's condo. I always had it with me but just didn't have it on the same keychain as the keys I used every day. As usual, it had migrated down to the bottom of the bag. I wrapped my fingers around it and victoriously brought it to the surface. Again, had we been more solid of a couple, the key would have been right next to Blake's and would have been scratched and worn with use, not bright and shiny like it had just been cut at the hardware store.

I needed to stop this line of thinking if my plan was to be successful. I was admitting defeat even before the opening bell had rung. Preparing for a fight was a bad omen. However, given our track record lately, it was a trained response.

I turned the key in the doorknob first, then in the deadbolt. The door swung open smoothly, allowing my entrance. I stuck my foot inside the threshold to prop it open, then drug the bags inside. Once my belongings had made it into the condo, I stepped in all the way, too.

Eric was nowhere to be seen. I had expected him to be at his usual perch in the living room, a beer sitting open before him on the coffee table. The sofa was empty, though the lights were on. I trained my ears to the sounds surrounding me, finally focusing in on what sounded like water running from the master bedroom. He was taking a shower.

Impulsively, I followed the noise into his room, debating my next move. Before I could chicken out, I stripped off my clothes and entered the bathroom. For a split second, I considered what I would do if he wasn't alone, then chastised myself for the thought. Of course he would be by himself if he wasn't yet with me.

His shower was one of the deluxe, walk in variety. There was no door to shield him, nor to announce my arrival. His back was turned to me as he bathed, obviously not aware that anyone was watching. I walked in behind him, the hot water enveloping me, too. My arms reached for him, my fingers caressing his wet skin.

"Merry Christmas, Eric," I said softly.

He jumped slightly and turned to face me. For a brief moment he just stood there, frozen, as though he couldn't believe I had actually shown up.

"It is now," he responded eventually, pulling me into him.

His kisses were full of intensity, his green eyes blazing with desire. The steaming water only heightened the feelings. It was all too easy to melt into him, to forget all the doubts that played on an infinite loop in my mind. Of every aspect of our relationship, this was the one we had mastered. It was so easy to sink into this comfortable, familiar territory and ignore all our lingering issues.

And I let him, again and again, refusing to admit the truth. If this was the only thing we had going for us, then who was I to judge Blake and her string of one night stands?

Eventually the hot water flowing from the shower head dissipated, and he reluctantly turned off the faucet. I remained dripping and shivering in the shower while he got out to retrieve a towel. He held out the plush cotton rectangle and I grabbed it almost as hungrily as I had grabbed him. The fabric was delightfully warm courtesy of his heated towel bars. I wrapped the towel around me and stepped out onto the warm travertine floor. At times like these, I understood his logic in installing high end upgrades. If I ever stayed here long enough to get used to the luxuries, I would have a hard time returning to my existence in the real world.

Eric stood behind me as I dried off, clearly admiring what he saw in the mirror. My cheeks flushed with unnecessary modesty. Catching my expression, he smirked.

"So you can ambush me in the shower, but I can't watch you get dressed?" His tone was light and playful, but he still left me to my own devices.

The walk-in closet could be accessed through both the bathroom and the master bedroom. Obviously, I opted for the bathroom entrance, praying that my pajamas were still where I had left them. I breathed a sigh of relief as I opened the appropriate dresser drawer. I pulled out the red silk tank and shorts and slipped them on. Definitely not what I was accustomed to wearing to bed, but they would do. Somehow I didn't think he would enjoy my visit as much if I were clad in my typical oversized t-shirt and plaid flannel pants.

He was perched across his king sized bed when I had finished dressing and brushing out my hair. He smiled broadly as I entered the bedroom, beckoning me to his side.

"Just what I like to see," he remarked. "Ready for bed at eight at night."

"Look who's talking," I gestured to his own attire, consisting of nothing more than boxer shorts.

"It's not like we can go out or anything. It's Christmas Eve. I doubt we could even grab a burger at this hour." His face clouded momentarily. "You're not hungry, are you?"

I shook my head. "I think I ate enough for two people today."

"Good, because I'm all tapped out. Though I could fill you up in other ways, I'm sure."

"I hope my dad's not counting on us to bring anything tomorrow," I joked, knowing full well he didn't.

"I've got beer, but something about that doesn't seem right."

A small giggle escaped my lips as I mounted the bed. I knew he was being silly, not insensitive. One thing he had never handled inappropriately was my mother's death or the circumstances surrounding it. Given his brashness in most other matters, it was the one subject I could always count on him to tread lightly with. Had my father been in the room, he never would have voiced that comment. With me, he was a little less guarded but still impressively sensitive.

Eric wrapped his arm around me as I settled against my pillow. Noticing the goosebumps on my bare arms, he rubbed the length of the one furthest away then pulled the comforter over us. I snuggled against him, craving the warmth he provided.

"I'm glad you were able to come."

"I needed to be here with you," I admitted, choosing my words carefully. I didn't want to lie and tell him that I couldn't imagine myself anywhere else. Better to phrase it honestly no matter how awkward that sounded. I did need to be here, to invest time in our relationship. That much was true.

He played with a tendril of my hair, twirling the damp lock around his index finger. I closed my eyes and drank in the sensation. The feeling of him running his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp, was heavenly. One by one, the muscles in my body relaxed.

"Long day?"

"No, not really. I went in early so I could leave right at noon, but it wasn't like I accomplished much. Nobody there was really on task today. So, we talked a lot and ate quite a bit. Blake redid my office as my Christmas present. It was the talk of the building and most everyone stopped by to take a peek."

I paused, realizing that Eric had never set foot in my office to begin with. He would have no clue that all of mid-management didn't have equally appointed workspaces. No before picture to compare it with.

"You'll have to stop by and see it sometime," I said quickly, "if you ever happen to be in the area."

"I guess I'll make it a point to be," he conceded, without the slightest edge to his tone. "Why don't you tell me about it for now?"

I proceeded to go into great detail about my new furnishings. My enthusiasm for the space was not faked; I found great pleasure in recounting all of the touches she had added to make the once drab room my own. I described every last detail from the designer guest chairs to the stack of Blake's business cards found in my top drawer. Only one item was omitted from mention: the picture of Blake, Matthew and me that perched upon my desk. I knew he'd feel slighted that a picture of us didn't occupy that prime real estate. I vowed to look for an appropriate photo when I returned home.

"That sounds really nice," he mused. He paused for just a beat before asking, as casually as he could muster, "Did her brother get you anything?"

"He helped with the decoration of my office. You know, the manual labor and all. One of the pictures in there came from him, I think."

There was no way I was going to mention Matthew's true gift to me. My intent for this night had been to salvage my relationship with Eric, not drive a further wedge between us. I could only imagine the response if I admitted he was taking me to a concert on Eric's home turf. And I hadn't lied exactly. Without his help, Blake's project wouldn't have come to fruition near as easily. Adding the "I think" at the end about the artwork had absolved me of any factual errors. I was in the clear.

Eric picked at an imaginary piece of lint on the bedspread. The tension in his body hadn't disappeared despite my efforts. He sighed quietly, clearly not finished with the line of questioning. I anticipated what was coming next.

"Did you get him anything?"

I had been correct. The answer I would provide had already formed on my tongue. I shifted my gaze to the area of the comforter he was rolling between his fingers. If the fabric could speak, it would be screaming for help. With this visual in mind, I decided to employ a slightly different tactic.

"I couldn't just ignore him," I said softly, going for the repentant girlfriend vibe, "with him coming over to Blake's and all. She told me he was a hockey fan, so I got him some NHL poster she showed me online. Nothing exciting. I'm not even sure he liked it."

"What team?" he asked, still not willing to let it drop.

"I couldn't tell you," I lied smoothly.

He chuckled, relaxing noticeably at my apparent indifference.

"And what did you get Blake?"

Here I grew more animated, more at ease with the subject matter. I knew he was only asking to be polite, to cover his tracks at being so nosy as to my gifts both to and from Matthew. I milked my exposition for all it was worth, the purpose twofold. On one hand, it deflected his attention from anything to do with Matthew, and on the other hand, it further illustrated how little thought I had given her brother's present. Eric seemed very accepting of this, and I hoped he would let it drop completely.

"That was very nice of you," he praised at my conclusion, "to include them in your plans. Without including them in our plans."

He smirked in an attempt to keep the mood light.

"I know we don't get to see each other nearly enough. Trust me, I wouldn't set out to ruin two holidays in a row."

"If you truly meant that, you wouldn't have invited Gracie to the festivities tomorrow."

I elbowed him gently. "Come on, that's just tradition. You know my dad thinks of her like a second daughter. Sometimes I think he likes her better than me."

"I could never see that happening."

"Me either. But she's local, and more needy of his attention now that I'm gone."

The words slipped out before I realized I didn't want to ride that train of thought. I silently cursed myself for dodging one touchy subject in exchange for introducing another. I had been doing so well. Why had I gone and opened that can of worms?

"What if that didn't have to be the case?"

"Eric, I really don't want to talk about this right now. You know how I feel about my job. I'm not about to give that up and be some kept woman."

He held his hands up in surrender. "I know, I know. Trust me, I wasn't about to suggest that again."

"Then what? We've already established that Fort Wayne is way too far of a commute from Indianapolis. Unless I move everybody up there, I don't see another option."

"Maybe I should just give you your present now," he said with a grin. He extricated his arm from underneath me and rolled away. "Don't go anywhere."

"I wasn't planning on it," I said, settling back down on the pillow.

He disappeared into the other room and I laid there, wondering what kind of a solution could be placed in a box and tied up with a bow. The twinkle in his eye suggested that he was quite pleased with his idea. I hated to burst his bubble, but I couldn't see how a necklace or earrings would solve this problem. Maybe he had gone the technology route and bought me a laptop or a tablet that I could use to video chat. That would be an alternative, but not exactly the same as being there in person. And unless he had also purchased ones for my dad and Gracie, highly impractical.

Eric returned with a bag in tow. The grin on his face remained as he sidled up to the bed and thrust it at me.

"Go on, open it," he urged.

I sat up and took the package from him. Wary, I peeked inside it as though it held an explosive device. He laughed good naturedly at my bravado. His green eyes bore into me as I plucked the tissue paper from the bag and let it flutter to the floor. He was waiting for a reaction of some sort, but I didn't yet understand.

Inside were newspapers. Specifically real estate sections from local papers stretching from Indy to Fort Wayne. My brow furrowed as I looked closer at the first one I pulled out. What was he trying to tell me? Was there an ad for the bank in all of them, maybe name dropping me as an underwriter? I wasn't aware of a current ad campaign, but maybe they had done it without my knowledge. I was only mid-management, not an executive.

After moments of awkward silence, I glanced up at him. Eric stared at me expectantly.

"I don't get it," I admitted.

He plopped down beside me and took the paper I was holding. "This one's from Marion," he explained to me like I was a child and couldn't read. "There's also one from Muncie. Some that cover Gas City and southern Huntington County."

"Okay," I drawled, stretching the syllables out into a question.

"Real estate sections that show houses for sale between here and Fort Wayne."

"Okay."

He set down the paper and took both my hands in his. Those eyes stared back at me, so earnest and sincere that I felt a lump form in my throat. My breath caught in my lungs as I waited for him to explain further. I still wasn't sure exactly what he was proposing, but I knew it was major.

"Lauren, honey, I know that I've been nearly impossible to deal with the past couple months. I thought that I would be okay with your promotion and moving away, really I did. But I'm not. I know that I'm away a lot, so you would think it wouldn't matter, but it does. The thought of you being two hours away, practically having a whole new life, really bothers me.

"I know how much your career means to you. I know how hard you have worked to get where you are, and how much further you can go in time. If you were willing to give that up to be a 'kept woman' I would let you without question. But you are you, and that's part of why we're so good together. You don't back down. You make me work for things. You question my judgment.

"So I sat and thought about this long and hard. How I could make this work. You remember, back in the parking lot of your old apartment the day you left?"

I nodded.

"I promised you then that we would figure this out. I've been a little slow on the uptake, but I've come up with a solution of sorts. I can't leave my job in Indy and you can't leave yours in Fort Wayne. But we can compromise and live somewhere in between."

"You would move? For me?"

"For you, I would do just about anything."

"But you love this condo."

"I didn't say I was selling it."

"Then how?"

I wished I could string together more than a couple words at a time, but my brain was having a hard time processing his plan. My head was swimming in a fog of possibilities. For him, this was a gigantic move to prove his commitment. If only he could insert something about how much he loved me in his monologue, we'd be nearly home free.

"The mortgage for this is in my name. The mortgage for our home would be in yours. That way we could have both."

My head, formerly in the clouds somewhere, came crashing back down to earth. I must have contorted my face in a disapproving fashion as it did so, for he came up for air quickly.

"You know I bought this place for a song, Lauren. It's an excellent investment. We are right downtown, in the heart of everything. The view is spectacular."

"All the more reason to sell. Think of the profit you'd turn. We could put all of that down on our place. We could have way more house for the money in most of these areas. Or we could start with something smaller and save the rest. Or do repairs or something."

His eyes were a mixture of disappointment and hope for the future. I saw the recognition behind them that I hadn't shot him down completely. My word choice had been deliberate; using "could" signified that I wasn't immediately turning him down, but not quite ready to jump on board.

"We could stay here on weekends," he countered, "or if I have an early flight or something, I won't have to get a hotel. Think of the convenience factor. Some people would kill to live here, and we do."

I raised my eyebrows. "Somehow having a parking spot here isn't the same as living here."

"You know what I mean. Financially, you make almost as much as I do. If I can pull this off," he gestured to the view out his window, "imagine what you can get. You with your connections at the bank. And if we stumble upon our dream house, I'll consider adding my name to it to sweeten the deal."

"You'll consider it?" I asked, practically choking on the words.

Eric nodded, totally serious.

"While I appreciate the gesture, to me it sounds like I'm the only one who would be taking a risk. Call me a traditionalist, but if it would be our house, both our names should be on it."

"I'm thinking practically here."

"So am I. It's not signing some one year lease or something. This would be a mortgage. It would be me putting my income and my livelihood on the line as a testament to our relationship."

"True."

"And you offering nothing new. You keeping your place 'just in case' something bad happens."

"I never said I wouldn't help pay for it. And this place is just as much yours as it is mine."

I laughed sharply. "No it's not. Yes, this is a beautiful home, Eric, but it's not mine. This is your bachelor pad. A little decoration and some window dressing won't change that. Call it what you want, but this is your backup plan."

"Lauren," he said, folding his arms across his chest and pouting slightly, "we have been together for ten years now. I'm hardly going to leave you high and dry."

I stared at him blankly, making a point with my silence.

"Look, just promise me you'll think about it. At least give me that much."

"Fine. I'll consider it. But no more talk about it until the new year. I need some time to get my head around it."

"Fine."

I peeled back the comforter and wrapped myself in its warmth, positioning myself as far away from him as possible. He gravitated towards me as he climbed under the covers. Reluctantly, I allowed him to curl his arm around me. I pretended to fall asleep, relaxing my muscles as much as possible so he wouldn't continue the conversation. He didn't pick up on my charade and soon fell into his own authentic slumber. It was hours later before my eyes finally gave in and I fell into my own dreamless sleep.

So much for making the boyfriend happy.

#### Chapter Twenty-Five

"I swear that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Gracie commented bluntly.

We were sitting at my father's house in my old bedroom having some much deserved girl time while the guys were watching television in the other room. With the door closed and firmly latched behind us, I felt comfortable enough to tell her in hushed tones about Eric's supposed gift to me.

"I know, right?" I stared down at my hands.

"Don't tell me you're considering it."

I shrugged. "I told him I'd think about it."

"Tell him you thought 'no'."

"I kind of thought I made that clear. But the more I thought about it last night, the more I realized that he's trying."

"He needs to try harder."

I sighed. "In order for this to work, we both have to make compromises. He's willing to accept that I want to keep my job-"

"I can't believe you just said that with a straight face."

"It's a complete one-eighty from where he was just a couple of weeks ago. Back then, he still wanted me barefoot and pregnant in his kitchen."

"The traditional husband and wife roles without the whole pesky marriage thing."

Gracie flipped her stick straight hair over her shoulder and hopped up to her feet, unable to stay in place for too long. She paced back and forth along the length of the room, her impractical stilettos sinking into the carpet. How she didn't lose her footing was beyond me. My devil's advocate had serious skills.

She was also practically reading my mind, totally giving a voice to my subconscious. It was difficult not to agree with that, still something burned in my gut that said I should try harder. Eric was making a valiant attempt. He wasn't used to giving in. Nor was I. Maybe if we both worked our own angles, we could meet somewhere in the middle at a mutually agreeable conclusion.

"I thought that myself," I mused, "that he was putting the cart before the horse. A mortgage is a huge commitment. Granted, marriage is bigger. But you would think we would do that part first, just to get it out of the way. I wasn't about to bring it up last night, though. He looked like I had just killed his puppy."

"I bet he acted like he was eight, too."

"Kind of," I snorted.

"So, what's your plan?" she asked, absentmindedly picking up a picture frame from my old dresser.

"I don't have one yet. With the lack of sleep I got last night, you would think I would have written a ninety page thesis on it by now, but I'm fresh out of ideas. If I turn him down outright, he'll never forgive me. I guess I'll just keep dropping hints and see if it gets me closer to what I want."

"And what do you want?"

"To be honest, I want it all. I don't want to choose. And that's not going to work because it's not fair to anyone involved. I want the boyfriend and the job and the friends. I just can't make the pieces all fit."

"Then maybe you're trying to put the pieces from two different puzzles together."

"You know, that's pretty deep."

"I have my moments of brilliance."

I smiled despite myself. "I'll think of something. I always do. And why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?"

"He's not going to leave you alone until you tell him yes or no," Gracie contemplated, "just be prepared for that."

"I'm fully aware of this. He'll probably pay more attention to me than he has since I left. I told him I didn't want to discuss it now; I want to wait until after New Year's rolls around."

Gracie nodded, putting down the picture frame and staring into space thoughtfully. All of a sudden, her expression changed and she whirled around to face me. "You wouldn't, would you?"

"I wouldn't what?"

"Marry him. You know, just to get it over with."

My stomach clenched as I replayed our earlier conversation and realized that's exactly what I had said. I had treated a sacred covenant as nothing more than a business deal. A practical merging of households and incomes. That wasn't exactly a glowing report on the state of our relationship. When I had thought about marriage as a little girl, I had imagined breathless declarations of love. I wasn't even sure that Eric allowed that word into his vocabulary.

"Lauren?" she asked as I stood in silence.

"You don't know something, do you?"

She chuckled inwardly before answering. "The guy can't stand me. It's not like he's talking my ear off when you're not around. I haven't seen him since Thanksgiving."

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was right. Eric wouldn't tell Gracie what he had for breakfast, let alone confide in her about something as major as a house hunt or a proposal. Yet now that the thought had been planted in my brain I couldn't shake it. If I had associated buying a house together with getting married so organically, couldn't it be possible that Eric had done the same thing?

"You look positively green, dearest," she declared, coming to sit beside me on the bed once more, "so let's talk about something else. How did you like your present from Blake?"

"It was fabulous. And I know you were in on it. You are so sneaky."

Gracie's face lit up at my mention of her involvement. "She ran it past me when we were together on Thanksgiving. When you and Eric were indisposed, she and I had a mighty nice talk. If we lived closer to each other, we'd probably hang out."

Just how I had figured, my Indy best friend and my Fort Wayne best friend were two of a kind. Maybe that's why the transition had been so seamless for me; I had a Gracie stand-in at the ready.

"If you and Eric end up sealing the deal, maybe I'll take her up on her offer," Gracie mused, referring to the fictional lease Blake had proposed on Thanksgiving night. I glared at her, a reminder that it was her idea to end that line of thinking for now. "Oops, sorry."

"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," I stated more firmly than I felt. "I haven't accepted his offer. Even if I did five minutes from now, we haven't begun to look. We haven't even discussed where we would look. The whole house-hunting and purchasing thing would take a while."

"The financing part would be a lock though," Gracie teased. "I know someone who could help you with that."

I elbowed her with a giggle. "You know, the idea of a mortgage shouldn't be so scary for someone who works with them all day long. But one with my name on it, that's another story."

"One with only your name on it when you're not the one calling the shots," she clarified.

I laid back on the mattress and ran my hands through my hair with a sigh. "That's exactly the problem. I'm glad someone else gets it. If it were just me and I had decided to do the homeownership thing, I'd be fine with it. I'd go find a house in Fort Wayne and be happy."

"You like it there that much?"

"Yeah. I've established a life there. My job's there, I have a couple of friends. I could lay down roots. But with Eric, that's never going to fly. Practically, Fort Wayne's just too far away for him. And Indy's just too far away for me. I get that. So the idea in a nutshell is the only alternative. He's going about it wrong, but it has its merits."

"So why aren't you happier? He's finally showing some initiative."

"Not enough, though. He would keep his condo, which tells me that he isn't one hundred percent invested in this. If we would break up, he could just smoothly continue on with life as he knew it. I'd be saddled with a mortgage on our house in who knows where, living between Indy and Fort Wayne for no good reason at all."

"Well, you know how I feel about it. And I'm willing to bet that Blake will tell you the same thing. And don't get me started on that brother of hers."

I groaned involuntarily.

"What? If you decide for whatever silly reason to take Eric up on his ingenious plan, you know he's not going to allow you to still be friends with them. You've got to be kidding me if you think he would willingly let you spend time with the guy who almost kicked his ass."

"It wasn't like that."

"But it could have been. Eric barely allows you to spend time with me. As far as I know, I'm not competition for your affection."

I choked on my denial, realizing that my efforts would be futile at best. The lump in my throat grew as tears clouded my vision. Concerned, Gracie laid beside me.

"Now it's my turn to ask what you aren't telling me."

"Matthew told me he loved me," I admitted, wiping away moisture from my eyes.

"Really?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes shining with the obvious desire for me to provide more detail.

"He didn't say it. He wrote it down. In the Christmas card he gave me. But it wasn't just 'Love, Matthew' like I could explain away with that just being how he signs things. He wrote 'I love you, too.'"

"Too?" She jumped on the qualifier like I knew she would. "So you are holding out on me."

"I said it. Once. It just slipped out. I was at his place trying to convince him to come to Thanksgiving and it just happened. I was telling him about how if he came, everyone that I loved would be in the same room at the same time. That included you and Blake, by the way."

"So it could have been innocent. But you're not completely sure."

"I was so embarrassed that it just popped out like that. But it was the truth, in some form. I care about him so much. And at the time, he rejected it so I thought I was in the clear anyway."

"He rejected you?"

"He pulled his whole self-loathing routine that made me feel worse. But now, he's put it back out there and I don't know what to do. I don't know what it means. I don't know what I want it to mean."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

I rolled over so that I was on my stomach. The position made it easier for me to look at her. Her eyes were wide, innocent even. Granted, that would have been the most logical course of action, but I hadn't been capable of rational thought at the time. I shifted my eyes to the bedspread and she smacked her forehead.

"I know," I muttered, "I know."

"Well, start from there."

"I think he might have started to mention it when he walked me out to the garage, but I cut him off."

"Really?" This was said more like a statement and less like a question. She huffed and shook her head.

"It was an accident. I promise I'll try harder next time."

"You better."

Gracie's pep talk was cut short by a knock at the door. We both sat up and smoothed down our hair, attempting not to look too guilty about our latest installment of Lauren's True Confessions. Eric strode into my old bedroom like he owned the place. The same surreal feeling washed over me that always occurred on Christmas; there had been so many occasions during our lengthy relationship where he had done the same thing. To him, this was as much of a home as his parents' house. I never would have guessed ten years ago that we'd be in the same place, carrying out the same actions as we did back then.

Of course Gracie hadn't been in the picture then. Or my own indecisiveness about where I wanted things to go. Back then I only lived in the moment, enjoying the comfort that a steady boyfriend brought. Today I was more focused on the future, wondering where my current direction would lead me. To be honest, I felt like someone had convinced me to shut my eyes, then proceeded to spin me around. I had no idea which end was up, or where I was headed.

Eric, on the other hand, looked more sure of himself than ever. He was practically grinning from ear to ear.

"I figured you'd want to head out soon," he said, effectively ignoring Gracie.

"What time is it?" I asked. I'd left my cell in my purse, so I had completely lost track.

"Getting late," was his reply.

He extended his hand to help me up. Reluctantly I took it, seeing his gesture for the possessiveness it was. He was only demonstrative of his affection when it suited him. Apparently, this was one of those times.

Gracie rolled her eyes as I rose to my feet. She remained seated on the bed, her arms folded across her chest. Her distaste for my boyfriend was obvious; there would be no doubt whose side she would take if it came down to a battle for my attention.

If. Again, I couldn't be certain of Matthew's intentions. There were so many things that he kept hidden from me. So many mysteries and contradictions that I couldn't explain.

Eric's desires were pretty well cut and dried. I knew what to expect for the most part. Every now and then he'd throw in a curveball, like he'd done with the buying a house thing. But the story arc was relatively the same. I was his. It radiated in the way he moved, in the way he spoke, in the way he lived his life. For him, there were no doubts.

"So I guess this is goodbye?" Gracie said finally, addressing only me.

I shrugged even as Eric gently pushed me toward the door.

"Call me later," her voice trailed behind us, "and thanks for the perfume!"

"I will and you're welcome," I called back. "Thanks for the calendar!"

Gifts had always been simple between Gracie and me. Every Christmas since we had become friends, we had bought each other the exact same gift. She always bought me one of those page a day calendars. The subject matter varied; one year it was puppies, another it was jokes, but it was always a calendar. I, in turn, faithfully purchased her a bottle of her favorite perfume. It was more like a running gag gift tradition than anything else. I knew our tax brackets were considerably different and didn't want to create any awkward moments if I got her a present that I knew she wouldn't be able to reciprocate with like value. I couldn't care less if she got me anything at all, but I realized she was sensitive about the subject.

My dad was still in the living room where Eric had left him, his eyes focused on whatever basketball game was airing. He rose from his recliner when I entered to give me a hug.

"Leaving so soon?" he kidded, fully aware I had stayed the majority of the day.

"Yeah, I'm about to turn into a pumpkin," I joked. "Besides, your surrogate daughter is around here somewhere."

"You know nothing compares to the real thing."

Eric looked at me pointedly from across the room. I wondered if he had spent his quality guy time drumming up my dad's support for the homeownership plan. I wouldn't put it past him. Of course my dad would be on board with me living closer to him if presented in the right way. If discussed in a manner that didn't let on how truly on the fence I was about it. I could imagine Eric regaling my dad with tales of how we'd spend Sundays here at least once or twice a month. Of course, those stories would be lies, but they would sound good. Convincing.

"I know, dad," I whispered into his shoulder.

He held me at arm's length, studying my face intently. I stared back at him, doing the same. It was this weird father – daughter connection thing we had between us, how we could communicate without saying a word. He could tell that I was conflicted even if he hadn't been clued in to the cause. And I knew he was advising me to be as thorough as I typically was when I considered a major decision. His eyes shifted in Eric's direction, and he nodded slightly.

"I just want you to be happy," he said softly, low enough for Eric not to overhear, "no matter what. Even if it takes you two hours away."

I closed my eyes, digesting his wisdom. When I had left Indianapolis, I hadn't just left Eric behind. My dad and Gracie were also here, yet they didn't complain about it. True, being someone's child or friend was a lot less complicated from a distance than being someone's girlfriend.

"Now don't cry," he soothed, acknowledging the tears that formed so easily beneath my lashes, "it's Christmas."

"I know. I'll be fine." I brushed away the moisture with my thumbs, giggling slightly at my sentimentality.

"I know you will." He smiled warmly at me.

Eric had retrieved my coat and purse from the closet and he handed them to me, eager to get the show on the road.

"Doug," he gestured to my dad, turning on the salesman voice, "it was a great time as always."

"Eric," my father intoned, the mocking nature not lost on me, "it was my pleasure. Take care of yourself."

His last words struck me as a bit strange. Perhaps a piece of advice, a little reference to their earlier discussion? I shook my head as I eased on my outerwear. Gracie had me reading too much into everything. Not that I needed much help in that department.

Eric ushered me out of the door, his hand brushing against the small of my back. His touch was warm, familiar, but I shivered at the contact.

"Cold?"

I nodded, thankful that I could blame the weather for my reaction. I wasn't entirely sure that the climate had anything to do with it. It had turned out to be a bitterly cold day. Every once in a while, a snow flurry teased at the possibility of a white Christmas, but never quite delivered.

Eric turned the heater in the BMW on full blast, and I was quickly comforted by its warmth. He still had a grin on his face as he maneuvered the car through the relatively empty streets back to his condo.

"You going to let me in on the joke?" I asked good-naturedly.

He turned to me, his green eyes practically sparkling. "Maybe someday."

"Was it that good of a game?" I prodded, playing along.

He shrugged. "Maybe I was just thinking of the gift you got me."

I blushed. "Please tell me you didn't tell my dad."

He snorted. "Do you really think I would do that?" he scoffed, reaching over to ruffle my hair.

"No, but for a minute, I was very afraid."

He laughed, a pleasing sound that came from his core. It had been quite some time since I had seen him this animated. If he were like this all of the time, there would be no competition, real or imagined. I would follow him wherever he went. This was the Eric of old; the self-assured, easygoing guy I had crushed over at age sixteen.

For years, he had mentioned how he didn't have a good picture of me to show off to friends, coworkers, whomever. In fact, the last professional photos I had had taken were my senior pictures. As much as I liked to do hair and makeup, something about saving my look for posterity didn't appeal to me. I ducked out of as many photos as I could. Of course, as witnessed by the candid shot of me that now took up residence on my desk at work, I wasn't always successful.

This time, I had bitten the bullet and made an appointment with a photographer. Instead of going to the standard shopping mall photo studio, I had hired a freelancer to take pictures of me in a more intimate setting. Wearing considerably less than would be appropriate to have on display at a department store. Along with those shots, I had also done a couple poses more suitable for a wallet version. I had been pleased enough with the results to not hate them, and Eric had practically raved about them.

For once, he had been rendered speechless by something I had given him. The look on his face had been priceless, and was forever stored in my memory. After the shock had worn off, the praise had followed. Per my request, he vowed to keep the private photos private. I hadn't really been concerned; if I had, the gift never would have come into fruition.

"You know you're beautiful, right?" he asked when we were stopped at a red light. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, tipping my chin upward slightly so he could inspect me closer. The light turned green, and he pulled away to focus on driving.

I smiled slightly as the heat rose in my cheeks.

"You never could take a complement well," he smiled. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed," I said softly, "just not used to hearing it."

"Well, you should be. Because you are."

"Thanks."

We completed the drive back to the condo in relative silence, the easy kind that passed between those who knew each other well and didn't need to fill every moment with idle chatter. I admired the view of my hometown all dressed up for the holiday. In a few short hours, evening would descend upon the city and the Christmas lights would fire up for one of the final times of the year. It was odd how it felt like Christmas had come and gone so quickly, yet it seemed as though I had left this place so long ago.

Lost in thought, I was surprised when I realized we were pulling into the parking garage. My car waited patiently in its assigned stall for me to return. I had wanted to drive it to my dad's to show it off, but Eric had been all about taking the BMW. Knowing how much he liked to be in control, I offered to let him drive mine. He had still insisted on taking his car and I had relented. I knew when to pick my battles and this wasn't one of those times.

He pulled the car alongside the Sonata and cut the engine. We both remained in our seats, neither one of us making a move to get out.

"You can always come back up," he suggested with a twinge of hope.

"No, I'd better get going," I said. "I have one more stop to make before home."

He nodded, realizing before he had asked what the answer would be. Prior to leaving for my dad's I had drug my belongings downstairs and placed them in my trunk. Depending on how one chose to look at the situation, I was either being super-efficient or preparing for impending doom. With the way our relationship ebbed and flowed both options were equally possible.

"Well, then," he said, leaning over to brush my lips with a gentle kiss, "be careful going back. And Merry Christmas."

"Thanks," I said, "you too."

The exchange felt hollow and emotionless. I paused for a moment, my hand poised on the door handle, waiting for him to say something of value. Or to pull me into a passionate kiss. Nothing happened. With a deep breath, I opened the door.

"I love you, Eric," I said softly as I exited the car.

"Good night, Lauren," he said in response.

I wanted to pretend that he hadn't heard me; that if he had, he would have given a like response. At the same time, I wasn't about to fool myself. I watched as he climbed out of the driver's side, closed the door solidly behind him, secured the car and stalked away to the elevator without looking back. Once the elevator doors opened to allow him access and he disappeared inside I stood alone, frozen, between our cars.

Shaking my head at what we had become, or worse, what we had always been, I finally climbed in my own car and headed out.

Every Christmas since I had been able to drive myself there, I visited my mother's grave. Just because I had moved away didn't mean the tradition was going to end. It wasn't something I kept from anyone, but I never spoke of it and always went by myself. Eric had understood where I was going when I brought it up a few minutes ago. I suspected my dad knew as well. Their knowledge didn't bother me, but I was glad they didn't bring it up.

Depending upon how cold it was outside I either stayed for quite some time or just a few minutes. Some years I had long discussions with her; others I quickly set down a poinsettia plant and told her I loved her. It was the thought that counted and I doubted she would mind either way. This year felt worthy of an extended visit despite the bitter temperatures.

So I bundled myself up and trudged through the cemetery to the place I knew like the back of my hand. There was no one else around, though evidence of other people's recent visits was clearly visible. Like always, my dad had been here already. A single red rose lay nestled up against her headstone, fresh and beautiful. Her favorite flower, it was my dad's traditional offering. Maybe that's why I didn't care for the bloom; to me it symbolized a devastating loss. As I set down my poinsettia, I wondered if Eric would bring me roses like this if I died before he did. My gut feeling told me no. I pushed down the bile that rose in my throat at the thought.

Taking a deep breath, I relayed my entire dilemma to her, starting from when I'd first been offered my promotion and ending a few moments ago when Eric had walked away from me in the parking garage with little more than a passing thought. I told her everything; hearing the story spoken aloud was a cathartic experience. I didn't know if she already knew or even if she could hear me now. What I did appreciate was the fact that for once I was able to speak without interruption or criticism.

Only after I was done did I realize how cold I was. Even sheathed in leather gloves, my fingers felt numb. The tip of my nose was likely as red as my car by the feel of it. I jammed my hands into my coat pockets and said my goodbye, promising to visit her again as soon as I could. Part of me wished that I could stay there forever, safe in that moment of unconditional love between a mother and her child.

Instead, I climbed into my car and started the trek back home, feeling as though I was preparing for battle. The clarity I had experienced at my mother's grave made me anticipate nothing less. If I believed my own hype combined with Gracie's take on the situation, Matthew was nursing some serious attraction to me. Eric would want an answer in a few short days concerning moving in together and no matter what I did, someone was bound to get hurt.

I hoped like hell it wouldn't be me.

#### Chapter Twenty-Six

My stomach was in a constant state of upset. Even though Eric hadn't flat out asked me for an answer yet, as the calendar turned to January, he began to drop hints like nobody's business. I couldn't open my email without finding some message from him about mortgage rates, a picture of a random house for sale or a realtor's contact information. He began to call me every night under the guise of missing me. Typically, I would have eaten up the attention. However, I felt more suffocated than anything else.

While Eric worked on being overbearing, Matthew retreated. Though I hadn't shared the news of Eric's proposition directly with him, I had told Blake. Considering the frequency with which they spoke I knew she had passed the information on. She could deny it all she wanted to, but I knew that Matthew's absence in our house was directly related to me. Of course, I hadn't exactly made any moves to reach out to him either. The fear of whatever he had been about to say to me in the garage on Christmas Eve kept me from sending a quick text or placing an innocent phone call.

On one hand I was on the verge of getting everything I had ever wanted. On the other, I felt as though I was missing a part of my soul.

With a heavy heart, I continued on with making plans for Matthew's birthday. My source at work had come through for me on the Red Wings tickets and I shelled out the money for them, not knowing if I would be afforded the opportunity to give them to him. If things went too much farther south, I could always send them along with Blake for delivery. Or I could resell them myself. I hoped against hope that I didn't have to do that; I knew I had selected an awesome gift.

As far as Eric was concerned, party planning was in full swing and my life in Fort Wayne couldn't get any better. If I had let him in on the real truth, he would have likely come up here himself and drug me back down to Indy. I wasn't sure I wanted that. I didn't need my boyfriend to come rescue me no matter how bad the situation got. I could deal with this myself.

So it was more than a little surprising when Blake asked for my help to plan a meal for Matthew's birthday, complete with a homemade chocolate cake. She narrowed her eyes at me when I overreacted slightly, shaking her head at my enthusiasm.

"I told you, he's just really busy at work right now," she insisted as we worked side by side in the kitchen on the night in question.

"Sure," I muttered, unconvinced.

She looked up at me from the cake that she had been intently frosting and pouted good-naturedly. "I swear it has nothing to do with what I told him about Eric."

"Whatever," I allowed, "it just seems mighty convenient."

"He goes in phases," she continued in an attempt to get me off her back, "Sometimes I don't see him for a while. Honestly, you haven't lived here long enough to be an expert on his comings and goings. You are, however, an expert at cooking and I greatly appreciate that."

"Fine. Maybe I am overreacting just a bit. And thank you."

She smiled triumphantly as she set down her knife, the icing job complete. She started in on the candles next, clearly in her element. Cake decoration was the only thing I was willing to trust her with tonight. For some inexplicable reason I wanted everything to be perfect. I knew Matthew wouldn't be upset with me if dinner was burnt or undercooked, but I would be. After all the silence between us lately, I wanted nothing to make the situation any more awkward than it already would be.

He showed up right on time, breezing into the kitchen as if mere hours had passed since his last visit. Blake greeted him with a hug; I stayed in position behind the counter, pretending to be occupied while I waited for him to make the first move.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said, doing just that.

"Hey, yourself. Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"So how does it feel to be thirty?" Blake asked, winking mischievously.

"Don't remind me," he said with mock annoyance. "I already feel old. And that I haven't accomplished everything I wanted to by this point in time."

Given the glance in my direction, the last comment was made for my benefit. I felt a blush rise in my cheeks and I lowered my eyes, once again messing with the already completed food to keep what was left of my composure. So he had meant to talk to me. Maybe he had been busy at work. Or maybe he had been waiting for me to do my part and initiate things.

Whatever the case, I was determined not to ruin things between us any further than I already had. We were going to have a good meal together. He was going to open his birthday presents and then, if we were lucky, Blake would have enough tact to leave us alone long enough to address the elephant in the room. Surely she had to know something was going on. The air was thick with words unsaid.

Dinner was eaten amid idle chatter. We all took the floor in turn to expand on our respective days at work. Since I hadn't seen him since I went to my dad's, Matthew asked me about Christmas Day. I responded politely, sharing a couple stories about Gracie and her exploits, but mentioning nothing about Eric. His smile was so encouraging as he hung on my every word that I found myself recounting my pilgrimage to my mother's grave. Of course I edited the whole pouring my heart out story based on my audience, but by the end, I had tears in my eyes.

Embarrassed, I brushed away the moisture with the back of my hand. I stood up from my barstool and tended to my empty plate, rinsing it off in the sink and loading it into the dishwasher. Matthew followed me, tapping me gently on the shoulder when I refused to acknowledge him.

"You okay?" he asked simply.

I sniffled, wondering why the majority of our conversations began this way. Pasting on a smile, I spun around to face him. "I'm fine. I just have never shared that with anyone before. For some reason, it made me sad. I'm sorry to be such a downer."

"Don't apologize. You shouldn't feel bad for missing your mom."

"Even if I can't remember her?"

He smiled. "Maybe because of it. You never had those moments where you were upset with her, when she couldn't understand you, when she disappointed you. When she died, she was still perfect in your eyes. You never got to the point when you realized she was just human."

"I guess not. Though to hear my dad talk about her, she was perfect."

"And he was in love with her. That clouds your vision, too."

At a loss for words, I reached out for his plate. After a second, he realized what I was doing and handed it over. Since I was standing between him and the sink it was far easier for me to handle the dirty dish. He watched me closely as I tended to the plate. I knew he wanted to say more, but Blake was within earshot and it wasn't the time.

We might have stood there all night if she hadn't broken the silence and announced it was time for presents. The entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief and the tension evaporated instantly. I could have reached over and hugged her.

Unlike Christmas Eve, I wasn't concerned about giving him his gift. Based on his reaction to the framed print, I knew he would be over the moon about the tickets to the game. In fact when he opened them, he stared at them for a moment in disbelief.

"These are really good seats," he said finally. "They should have been impossible to get."

"I have my sources," I grinned broadly. "I figured you and Chris could go and have fun."

"Oh, for a minute there I thought maybe you wanted to go."

"I really don't know anything about hockey," I backpedaled, "it would be a waste to take me."

I silently berated myself for not thinking the presentation through better. Not for one moment had I considered that he would think the second ticket would be for me. I had figured it rude to just supply one ticket; who would want to drive that far to go to a game alone? Chris had, to me at least, been the obvious recipient of the other admission. Even though I knew very little about the guy, I figured that by being Matthew's best friend there was a good chance he was also a fan or could at a minimum tolerate the sport enough in order to accompany him.

Of course he would have thought I was going with him. We were going to go to the concert together, why not a sporting event? My Christmas gift had clearly included a night out with him. He hadn't told me he was sending me down there alone, or with Gracie or even Blake. He had told me we were going. My gift to him, as similar in nature as it was, wasn't a true reciprocation.

"It's awesome, sweetheart," he confirmed, "thank you so much. I'll wait to tell Chris about it, just in case you change your mind."

"You're welcome. And I'll consider it, I guess."

"Good. It would be a lot of fun."

Blake rolled her eyes at our exchange. "And what if I wanted to go?" she piped up. "I enjoy having fun."

"I could give you the name of my contact," I teased, positive that she was only kidding.

"Before you came along, I used to be the one who got invited on road trips. Now it's the two of you planning adventures together. I am feeling very third-wheelish right about now."

"Oh, sunshine," Matthew said playfully, "such the drama queen you are. Don't worry; you'll get to go somewhere with me soon. I'll even let you pick. I'm sure there's some art exhibit you want to go to coming up."

She smiled evilly. "I'll find something, I'm positive of it."

"Well, now I'm just afraid."

"As you should be, dork. Now that Lauren has stolen my thunder, here's your present from me."

She handed him an expertly wrapped package and took her seat. He tore into the wrapping paper to reveal a box containing a new camera. The look on his face was priceless, like he'd just received the best gift ever. He opened the box to extricate the item from its packaging. Even with my lack of knowledge about photography, I could tell it was an expensive piece of equipment.

I hadn't realized he'd had an interest in the hobby. As I sat there while Blake rattled off features of the camera in what sounded like a foreign language and Matthew nodded enthusiastically, it was my turn to feel like a third wheel. There was so much I didn't know about him. So much he hadn't told me. So many things I didn't know to ask about. Yet in the short time since we had met, his life had become seemingly meshed with mine. I had felt a distinct loss those weeks when we hadn't communicated, as if the orbit of my small little world had noticeably shifted.

"If you two are going to go all geeky on me," I interrupted, "I'm going to get the cake ready. I can at least understand that."

"The fire extinguisher is by the back door!" Blake called helpfully as I made my way into the kitchen. Her snide remark was quickly followed by "Ow!" and then laughter.

Blake did have a point. Thirty candles took a while to light, and the sight of the finished product was sort of like staring directly at the sun. I had considered carrying it out to the living room and setting it on the table, but didn't trust myself to pick up a large flaming object for transport. Instead, I decided on calling the siblings back into the kitchen.

When they returned, Blake had the new camera in hand. They had obviously spent the time alone doing at least a little research with the owner's manual, for she was preparing to snap the inaugural picture. Either that, or she was more technologically savvy than I gave her credit for. I seriously doubted that I would have been able to get the thing turned on by now, let alone be ready to take a picture with it.

True to form, I ducked out of the way as Matthew rounded the breakfast bar. Blake took her place across from him to get two pictures. The first was him standing next to the cake, the second an action shot of him blowing out the candles. As she snapped photos, the two of us sang a – offkey on my part – spirited version of Happy Birthday. I never would have guessed that Blake had the voice of an angel, but she did. The two of them just kept surprising me.

We cut the cake and headed back to the living room and its more comfortable seating. With only three of us sharing in the festivities, there was quite a bit left even though we had all taken pretty sizable slices. I figured that at the end of the night I would wrap the remainder up for Matthew to take home with him. By the way Blake was attacking her piece, though, I figured she might try to talk me out of that option. I supposed we could leave it here, but only if I could be assured that things would return to normal and her brother would again be our frequent dinner guest.

The doorbell rang and all of us looked at one another, clearly not expecting anyone. I shrugged as Blake rose to her feet, answering her silent question.

"Probably just someone trying to sell something," I muttered, returning to my cake.

Blake was still holding her plate as she sauntered over to the door. She took another bite of cake, beyond annoyed that someone was intruding on our private party. Personally, I would have chosen to just ignore it, though it was a little hard to pretend no one was home when the house was totally lit up. She probably figured it was easier to deal with the distraction and make it go away rather than trying to hide from it.

"So, about the concert," Matthew said quietly, taking advantage of his sister being occupied momentarily, "do you think Gracie would let us crash at her place afterwards?"

"We're not going to drive back that night?" I asked innocently. To be honest, I hadn't fathomed that our little road trip would turn into an overnighter. It would be a late night for sure, but I had assumed that we would be sleeping in our own beds come the wee morning hours.

"I wasn't planning on it. Especially with it being in February, who knows what the weather will be like? Think about it, we'll have been at work all day. A trip to Indy and back would be a little ambitious for anyone in the same day."

"Fair enough. I'll mention it to her the next time we talk. Just a word of warning, though, her place is pretty small. Hope you're okay with bunking on a couch."

"That'll do. I'd much rather stay there than some roach motel."

I was positive Gracie would be cool with it. So cool with it that I almost didn't need to ask her; I could just plan on it. I could almost hear her gushing in my head to go for it. Knowing her, she would conveniently find something to do that evening that involved her not coming home.

The thought of being alone in a tiny apartment with him all night both scared and intrigued me all at once.

With thoughts of what might happen that night swirling in my head, I totally ignored the conversation Blake was having at the front door with our mystery guest. She spoke in a low tone, and I couldn't hear the other party at all. Finally she turned from the door without closing it behind her, a gust of cold air passing through as she returned to the living room, still eating her cake.

"Lauren, you have a visitor."

Her announcement stopped me cold in my tracks. I stared up at her, my eyebrow raised, but she didn't give me any hints other than her utterly amused expression. With my back to the door, I was totally unprepared for what I was about to get myself into. Blake and Matthew, who was sitting on the portion of the sectional parallel to the front door, exchanged a glance that chilled me to the bone.

I didn't have to wait for long to find out my visitor's identity.

"Lauren," Eric said, walking into the foyer and closing the front door behind him, "we need to talk."

I set down my plate on the coffee table, my hands trembling. I was certain I looked like a child caught with my hand stuck in the cookie jar. Eric had been standing mere feet away from me while I had discussed an overnight road trip with the same man he accused me of cheating on him with. Although I was relatively certain he wouldn't have been able to hear any of it, the guilt rose to the surface reflexively.

"Eric," I said as I stood up, "what are you doing here?"

He laughed easily. "I'm here to see you, of course."

"I'm sorry," I apologized unnecessarily, "I didn't realize you were coming."

"I wanted to surprise you," he stated, clearly in his element, "and it looks as though I was completely successful. You remember when you texted me your address? I still had it in my phone, and by the magic of GPS, here I am. The place was pretty easy to find, considering I've never been here before."

By now, I stood in front of him. We were a few feet apart, but neither one of us made a move to lessen the distance.

"Do you want to go somewhere and talk in private?" I gestured up to the loft, hoping that we could do whatever this was behind closed doors.

With one word he crushed that wish completely.

"No," he shook his head, finally taking my hands in both of his so that he could turn me toward our captive audience, "the last time all of us were together, I'll admit I behaved very rudely. I wanted to apologize and promise to everyone that I won't do that again. And nothing that I have to say to you today needs to be kept private. I didn't come here to argue, Lauren, I came here to tell you how much I love you."

I couldn't help myself. I gasped. It figured that the first time those words would form upon his lips during our relationship that I'd be standing in front of my roommate and her brother. My eyes scanned the room for their reaction. Blake stood frozen in mid-bite; Matthew's expression was unreadable.

"I know the past couple of months have been hard on us as a couple. And I'm to blame for the majority of that. I wanted too much, expected you to drop everything for me. And it wasn't fair. I know how much this job means to you, Lauren. In a way, we are so much alike.

"I promised you before you left Indianapolis that I would find a way to make this work. I meant that with all of my heart. It just took me longer than I thought it would to come up with a plan. I was close when I came up with your Christmas gift, but it still wasn't quite right. Like I expected you to, you held your ground and wouldn't back down.

"So I went back to square one and regrouped. The basic idea was good. You're completely right; we need to make compromises. I needed to take baby steps to get there, but I now have the exact solution to our problems. Everything didn't come together as quickly as I planned, but it's all here now.

"So if you'll allow me to, I am asking you for a do-over of my Christmas gift to you."

He paused and I nodded, feeling as though I should answer him somehow, even if I wasn't sure what was happening.

"Lauren, I've decided to put the condo up for sale. I want to show you how much I am committed to you, to us. So there will be no backup plan, no easy out, just me and you beginning our lives together in earnest. Like adults do. We'll take our time and find our dream house and both our names will be on the mortgage. We'll both come home to each other every night that I'm not traveling, like a real couple does.

"But that's not all," he said softly, dropping to his knee, "Lauren Marie Jefferies, I love you. For some inexplicable reason, you have returned the favor. It took this distance between us to realize that I want you by my side for the rest of my life. So I'm asking you right here, right now, to be my wife. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Time stood still as he pulled a black velvet box from his pocket and propped it open to reveal one of the largest diamond rings that I had ever seen in person. Eric looked up at me expectantly, his green eyes shining with emotions I had never before seen him express. I opened my mouth, once, twice, but words wouldn't come. Trapped in the surreal moment, unsure if I was dreaming, I spun around to where Blake and Matthew stood. Blake was just as eagerly awaiting my answer as Eric, but Matthew grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her into the kitchen to allow us our privacy.

Before he disappeared into the other room, Matthew turned and looked back at me. The expression on his face wrenched at my stomach and burned into my memory. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that someone had ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped upon it. Sheer pain was what I saw reflected in those eyes. I wanted to break free of Eric's hold and run after him, but my feet were cemented to the carpet.

Instead, I let out a whimper as I closed my eyes, tears spilling over my cheeks. Eric, of course, interpreted my outburst as a positive response.

"Lauren," he said softly, "that's not exactly an answer. This is the part where you tell me yes. We can cry about it after you accept."

"Oh, Eric," I said eventually, "I am in complete shock right now. My head is spinning; I can't formulate a coherent thought."

"That's a good thing, right?" he asked hopefully. He straightened up, rising to his full six foot plus frame and escorted me over to the couch.

I dropped onto the cushion like a rag doll, leaning into him as he wrapped his arm about my shoulders for support. My body shook; no matter what I did I couldn't stop the trembling. I let out a couple of ragged breaths, trying to regain enough composure to come up with something to offer him.

"I don't know," I admitted breathily, "I can't think right now. I just need some time."

He sighed, obviously disappointed but not angry like I expected. "I had a feeling you might say that. You have the most beautiful, analytical mind and I sprung this on you out of left field. So as much as I wanted to leave here tonight with an answer, I will give you some time to digest this. Why don't you come to visit me on Saturday? That will give you a couple of days to think it over, to realize that I am serious. You can give me your answer then. Of course, if you make up your mind sooner, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know."

He placed the velvet box on the coffee table beside my cake plate. Untangling my limbs from his support, he propped me against the back of the couch, holding me in place for a moment before letting me go completely.

"I guess I should head back then," he said softly as he stood.

I stared up at him, nodding slightly.

Impulsively, he bent down towards me to place a kiss on the tip of my nose. "You know I love you more than anything," he whispered.

I wanted to tell him the truth - that I hadn't known that up until a few minutes ago, but I refrained. My thoughts were so jumbled in my head that by the time I realized I should say something, anything at all, he had left me all alone. The door latched quietly behind him before I realized I hadn't returned the sentiment.

#### Chapter Twenty-Seven

I pressed the doorbell with a trembling index finger. For a split second, I considered running for the safety of my car and getting the hell out of there. Unfortunately, I doubted that I could make a clean escape before he came to the door. He would recognize my car, would know that it wasn't some prank done by neighborhood kids. Besides, with his house being so far back from the road and not visible through the trees lining the neck of the driveway, no one would come here on accident.

So I waited on his front porch instead. As the seconds ticked by I worked on bolstering the fleeting resolve that had driven me here in the first place. My hands clutched his birthday gifts, a reminder that I had intended to end up here after work today. I had scooped up the camera and the Red Wings tickets that he had left behind the night before as I headed out the door this morning. Blake had said he would pick them up sooner or later, but for me they were an invitation to attempt to clear the air between us.

Last night after Eric had left, I had remained in my catatonic state for who knew how long before Blake had emerged from the kitchen alone. It had only added to my turmoil when I realized that Matthew had ducked out of his own party without saying goodbye. Blake had tried to shrug things off, either for my benefit or for his, but I knew there was a lot that she was leaving out when she indicated it was no big deal. The look we had exchanged as he retreated suggested that he hadn't just left to give Eric and me our privacy.

The subject had changed quickly to that of the diamond ring that sat before me on the table. Blake had picked it up, even taking it out of the box and sliding it on her own finger, albeit her pinky. Of course he had had it sized to fit me; why wouldn't he? For the life of me though I couldn't slide it on my left ring finger like Blake had suggested, just to make sure. It was like I was afraid that by putting the ring on, it would somehow trap me into making a decision that I clearly wasn't ready to commit to yet. I couldn't be swayed by the beauty of an inanimate object, couldn't let it make the choice for me. Call me crazy, but once that ring was on, I doubted it would ever come back off. Like something out of a science fiction movie, the band would devour my finger and never let go.

A cold gust of wind reminded me that I had been standing there for quite some time, and my heart dropped into my stomach. I was almost one hundred percent positive that he was home. Even though the Mustang and Camry were not parked in the driveway, I knew he kept them in the garage. There were more than enough lights on inside to mean someone was in there. Which meant he wasn't answering by choice.

I imagined him peeking out the window, somewhere unnoticed by me. He would have seen my car parked in his drive, then decided that he wanted nothing to do with me. I pictured him pressed against a wall inside, praying for me to just leave him alone. Pretending not to be there, silently begging me to give up and turn away.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and prepared to do just that, but my feet wouldn't move. I stood frozen in place, still as a statue. Eventually he would find me out here, frostbitten and stiff as a board and choose not to ignore me. We needed to talk. Besides, I had his things and I had come to return them. I wasn't about to leave them on his doorstep and hope they didn't blow away.

Emboldened, I reached up again to ring the doorbell just as I heard motion on the other side of the door. It sounded like the deadbolt was being turned. I dropped my arm and stepped back slightly.

Sure enough the door opened. As soon as Matthew made his appearance, I realized that his delay in answering the door had nothing to do with me. He was wearing only a pair of jeans, hastily thrown on by the looks of it, zipped up but unbuttoned. His feet were bare. Also bare was his chest, though a t-shirt was flung over his shoulder. His hair was wet, and he practically radiated that easy confidence of a model in a men's bodywash commercial.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. Of course I had seen him shirtless before, many times in fact. Yet this was so unexpected that I couldn't help taking in the scene, completely awestruck.

"Hey," he said finally. I noticed immediately the lack of the "gorgeous" that typically followed, and may or may not have outwardly winced.

"If it's a bad time I can come back later. Or not at all. I just brought your stuff." The words came out in a rush of stupidity and I thrust his items in his general direction.

"No, no, it's not a bad time. Come on in." I detected a trace of amusement in his tone as he pushed the door open wide enough to allow me through. As I entered, I passed dangerously close to him, breathing in the heady scent of soap and warmth.

He trailed me into the living room, pausing briefly to slip his shirt over his head. Ever the gentleman, he offered me something to drink as I clumsily put the camera and the envelope with the tickets down on the table. I politely declined and seated myself on the couch. He shrugged then took a seat on the same couch, though as far away from me as possible. Yet again I might have made a face that hinted at my discontent with the awkwardness, but I really wasn't sure.

"Thanks." He motioned to the items I had brought with me.

"You're welcome. I didn't want you to have to make a special trip to pick them up."

"So you went out of your way to drop them off?"

I shrugged. "It was the least I could do after single-handedly ruining your birthday party. And this way I can apologize for it, too."

"Lauren," he said softly, pronouncing my name almost reverently, "you didn't ruin anything. Whatever you think you did, there's no need to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You had to leave your own birthday party because my – Eric – crashed it. If I hadn't been involved, clearly that wouldn't have happened. So I'm sorry for that. And I'm sorry on his behalf, since he would never apologize to you for what happened. In fact, the more I think about it, I believe he planned it that way."

Matthew's eyebrow raised, inviting me to continue.

"He knew you were going to be over there. I had talked to him about planning your birthday party with Blake. Isn't a little convenient that he would pick your birthday, of all days, to drop by for an unexpected visit?"

"If I were him, with that question for you and that ring burning a hole in my pocket, I doubt I could have waited any longer, either. I'm sorry that I walked out like that; I just needed to leave before I said something to ruin the moment."

"I can't believe that you of all people are giving him the benefit of the doubt."

He shrugged. "Where are my manners? I guess congratulations are in order."

I shook my head. "I haven't accepted his proposal."

A flash of unadulterated emotion, perhaps joy, lit his face for a split second. Whatever it was, this was the first he was hearing of this development. Up until now he had clearly thought I was engaged. Either Blake hadn't talked with him since last night at the party, or she had chosen not to reveal my indecision over the subject. His features returned to normal as he processed my words and the carefully chosen meaning behind them. "You haven't yet, or you're not going to?"

It was my turn to shrug.

"Oh, Lauren," he whispered.

"I know," I said flatly, "what the hell am I going to do?"

He laughed, though the short chuckle was without humor. "I am so the wrong person to ask. What about Gracie? Or my sister?"

"You know me just as well as they do," I retorted. "I was hoping to get your take on things."

He sighed so deeply it was almost painful. I hated myself in that moment for doing that to him, trying to make him call out his own hand when he always played his cards so close to his vest. But he was the one who had expressed his love to me just days ago. If I knew the intentions behind it, would it change things? Did I want it to?

"Why you would ask me for advice when the only thing I have ever done successfully is fuck up my own life is beyond me, so do with this what you will. He seems serious to me. About selling the condo, about marrying you. Do I think he loves you? In short, yes. I think he was stupid to not express it before, but maybe it took almost losing you for him to realize it. Maybe you were never going to leave him no matter what he did, I don't know. But the threat was real enough to him to make him decide to man up and take action. He's giving you pretty much everything you want."

I nodded. "But what if what I thought I wanted has changed?"

What if what I think I want is you? That was the real question, right?

"Then that's up to you to decide. I can't tell you what's in your heart. But whatever it is, it's obviously given you pause and he knows it. I bet he never imagined that he wouldn't get an answer right away."

"Actually, he took it pretty well. I have until Saturday to make up my mind. Guess it's time to get out the spreadsheets and start working on it."

"It's not a business decision," he said sadly, not picking up on my sarcasm.

"I know. That was my feeble attempt at trying to make light of things. Too soon?"

He shrugged. "Lauren, it's not up to me."

"What if it was?" I pressed, attempting to make the question sound as innocent as possible. "What if you were in my shoes? What would you do, knowing what you know?"

He shoved his hands through his hair, his fingers catching on the still damp strands. When it became clear that he wasn't going to answer me, I continued digging.

"Would you leave behind your new life, your new friends? Would you give up a lot of what you had worked so hard to achieve in order to make a compromise? Is a relationship worth doing that for? Is it a moot point if you have to ask that question?"

Matthew held up his hands in the universal symbol for surrender. I realized that this line of questioning was going nowhere. Unless I changed tactics, he was going to wedge as much distance between himself and the subject as there was space between us on the sofa.

I sighed and positioned myself on the cushion so that I was marginally closer to him than three seconds ago. Once I had his complete attention, I swung one leg over the other, my toe dangling just inches away from his knee. He stared down at my platform boot, following the length of my leg with his gaze until his eyes fixed yet again on mine.

"I guess I thought that we were better friends than this," I said into my lap, wringing my hands as I spoke, "I came over here hoping that you would shed some light on things for me from a guy's perspective. I thought we were closer than we really are. Maybe it's my fault. My own active imagination at work."

"We are friends," he interjected as I paused for effect, "but truth be told, I've known you for about five minutes and you're asking me for an opinion about how to handle a relationship with way more history than I will ever know. I've just seen glimpses of it. Most of them bad. And you know my first impression of the guy, but maybe that's unfair. If you love him, there's got to be something that I'm missing."

"Maybe, but then I'm missing it, too. If I felt like I was supposed to I wouldn't be hesitating now. If I was head over heels in love, I would have told him yes right away. But something held me back. If I despised him like Gracie thinks I should, I would have broken up with him long ago. But I kept forgiving him for everything he did that was wrong. I kept enabling him to walk all over me. And it's finally led to this moment, where the two sides are colliding. Maybe the problem is me."

"You?"

I nodded. "Me. Maybe I am just so comfortable in my routine that I'm happy there. I don't want to be alone, but I'm not ready for anything bigger. Eric and I used to agree on that, and now we don't."

"I doubt you would be alone for long," Matthew hedged.

"And just where would I find someone else?" I asked, drawing up enough courage to look him in the eye. He stared back at me, his expression unreadable. Damn. He wasn't going to take the bait, and I would be forced to backtrack in order to save face. "I work all the time and we have a strict no-fraternization policy."

His eyes dropped to his own lap. "I'm sure someone would come along eventually. If it's meant to be, it will happen."

"I don't know how much of that I believe. What if I missed out on my one true soulmate while I was busy with the wrong one? What if Eric is mine and I'm just too hung up on the whole perfection angle of things? What if I ruin things with him only to find out that was as good as it gets? I don't want to be destined for a life of blind dates and living alone with cats."

"Being alone isn't the worst thing that can happen to you," Matthew said, a touch defensively, "and you wouldn't have to get a cat. I hear fish are nice."

"Hell," I said, deciding at that moment to give it all I had, "according to Eric, you're chomping at the bit to have a chance with me. Maybe you could step in and fill the position."

That garnered a reaction from him. He practically choked on his own tongue, his face turning bright red.

"Hey," I continued as if the thought had just entered my mind, "that night in the garage, you were about to say something to me. We started talking at the same time, and then I promised you we would talk about it later."

"It wasn't anything important," he insisted, "I was just going to thank you for doing what you did for Blake."

"Oh," I said softly. I couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not. Maybe I had read more into it than was reality. But Blake, Gracie, Eric and my father, to a certain degree, couldn't all be wrong. Right?

I slid closer to him, almost near enough to him that we were touching. I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and bury myself against him, but I restrained myself. Here I was giving him all the bait he needed to admit his feelings for me and he wasn't about to take it. In fact, he was staying obnoxiously mum on the subject.

A horrible, twisting feeling struck my insides as I wondered if I was nothing more to him than his sister's roommate. In my eagerness to fault Eric, had I raised Matthew up on too high of a pedestal? Had I accepted his natural charisma as meaning more than it did? Had he reluctantly helped me just to be nice?

Desperation snapped something inside of me, and I impulsively decided that if I was going to hang myself, it would be on my own terms with my own rope.

I reached up to touch his face, my fingers tracing his jaw and passing over his lips. His breath was warm on my hands, inviting. He didn't flinch or push me away. Perhaps he was too much in shock to react. I took that as my cue to continue. I grabbed a handful of tousled blond hair and bent his lips down to meet mine.

For a moment, it was like kissing marble. Then something happened and he began responding to me in earnest, his mouth moving against mine as if we had done this a million times before. If ever there was a fairy tale moment with violins playing in the background and the heavens opening up, this was it. This was my moment of clarity. One of us moaned; I couldn't be sure who. We were a mass of arms and legs and desire, and I had never been happier in my entire life. One of his hands traveled up my spine to support me as he laid me back against the couch cushion. As he positioned himself on top of me, I realized that he dressed to the left.

His eyes burned with an intensity that I had always known was there, or at least had always wanted there to be. At that moment, I would have followed him anywhere, done anything he asked me to.

"I love you, Matthew," I whispered, not sure if it was out loud.

Apparently it was, for in the next instant he had untangled himself from me and had stood up, backing himself against the wall. I sat up, confused.

"What's wrong?" I asked stupidly.

"I – you – we – can't," he stuttered, the emphasis most definitely on the latter word.

Can't.

I winced, keeping my eyes shut to try to ward off the tears I knew were fast approaching. I wasn't about to cry in front of him, even though I already had more times than I cared to admit. This time it would be over him, and I couldn't do that. I couldn't expect him to comfort me and be the culprit at the same time. When I felt like I had a good enough handle on my emotions, I opened my eyes, looking everywhere except directly at him.

"You're practically married," he was saying in the background as I gathered my purse and threw on my jacket. "Lauren, look at me."

I shook my head, fumbling with my coat zipper. I only had a few seconds left before I completely melted down. The room suddenly felt stuffy, and if I didn't know better I would swear it began spinning.

"We can't do this. We can't do something stupid like this. Do you want to be the person that Eric is accusing you of being? Do you really want to cheat on him like this?"

Maybe those weren't direct quotes, but it was the gist of what he meant. I was having a hard time making heads or tails of anything. It was like I was underwater, hearing only bits and pieces of dialogue and attempting to fill in the blanks.

My zipper finally cooperated, and I tucked my head down and walked past him towards the door. My purse hung limply at my side, bouncing off my leg as I moved. I felt him reach out for me, presumably to stop me from leaving, but I fought him off.

"Leave me alone!" I growled in a voice I didn't recognize as my own.

"Lauren, wait," he pleaded.

"No," I said firmly, placing my hand on the doorknob and pulling it open, "I know where I'm not wanted."

He made no move to stop me, but I could feel his presence behind me. Standing in the threshold, I had two choices. Shut the door and remain inside, and talk whatever this was that had happened out. Watch as all my self-confidence oozed out of my body and landed in a puddle at his feet. Have this awkward moment become a funny story to tell at parties. Or go out into the icy waiting arms of winter to lick my wounds alone.

I stepped out onto the porch, slamming the door on his pleas for reconsideration. The door was heavier than I'd anticipated, and I nearly wrenched my arm out of socket doing so. I rubbed my shoulder to dull the physical pain as the emotional anguish slid over my cheeks via hot tears. I waited a beat to see if he would follow me, which he didn't, before heading towards my car.

The combination of my altered emotional state and the fine freezing mist that filled the air left the concrete slippery. My right foot slid out from underneath me, leaving me to grab the railing for support. That was all I needed to add insult to injury, to wind up in a heap on the ground in front of his house. If I'd have fallen, I doubted I'd have the willpower to get back up. It would be rather fitting to curl up in a ball and die of humiliation right there, at the scene of the crime.

I composed myself enough to unlock the car and climb into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind me for effect. Still not as angry sounding as the slamming of a BMW door, but it would do. I mashed my thumb against the push button start, wishing the engine would roar to life instead of hum. In fact, with it being a hybrid, I could barely tell it was on at all. How disappointing. I couldn't even do a big dramatic exit right.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands. I gripped the steering wheel at ten and two until my knuckles turned white. My arms ached with the attempt, screaming for me to relax at least a fraction. I loosened my hold on the wheel slightly, flexing at the elbows as I tried to prepare myself for driving away.

I made the mistake of looking back at the house as I reversed the car to head back down the driveway and to the road. The lights shone warm and inviting through the windows, reminding me of what I was leaving behind. I squinted to see if I could make out Matthew's silhouette in one of them. If he was watching me leave, I wasn't aware of it.

What had Gracie said about him on Thanksgiving? That he had orbited around me like I was the sun? She had been wrong. He was my sun; now that that bright star had burnt out, there was nothing left but pitch black.

My headlights did little to illuminate the darkness that surrounded me, both literally and figuratively. Like I had noted many before, even though Matthew's house was only a few miles from the interstate, it was almost as if he lived out in the country. His was the perfect location for someone who wanted the best of both worlds.

Only his world didn't include me.

Instead of turning off on the road that led home, I continued driving. Home. I snorted. Who was I kidding? It was Blake's house, not mine. I was nothing more than a glorified guest there. After tonight, maybe not even that. I could only imagine the kind of conversation that was happening over the cell phone towers now. By the time I arrived at her doorstep, I might be public enemy number one. Hell, it wouldn't be too late for her to call a locksmith and have the locks changed, making my key obsolete.

Without thinking, I merged onto the interstate, no plan of action in mind. With the inclement weather and the late hour, traffic was light but the roads weren't that bad. I just had to be careful and not speed, and I would be fine. Driving always helped to clear my head, and lord knew I needed that.

Before long, I was headed along the same route that Matthew and I had taken in the Mustang on that fateful night in November, albeit much more slowly. The mile markers slid past me, meaning nothing and everything all at once. The last time I had taken this stretch had been under much happier circumstances, in a way. That night had been deep in its own regard, though my torment had been pointed in the opposite direction.

For weeks I had been traveling the same circuitous path, bouncing between hostility and love toward the only man I had ever truly known. Sure, he had his faults, but he was consistent. He hadn't acted out of character until yesterday when he had gotten down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. It had taken some time, but he had eventually offered me the commitment I thought I desired.

All along Eric had been wary of my decision to move up here, to get so involved with someone I barely knew. In the end he had been right. He knew me well enough to see I had fallen for Matthew, even before I was willing to admit it myself. When he had called me out, it pissed me off. Yet he hadn't given up on me.

I wondered if he would be willing to hold me while I cried over his arch nemesis. Something told me that he would allow me a few moments of sorrow if it meant that Matthew would be out of my life forever.

Blake's words echoed in my head as I drove: don't hurt him. Like his feelings had ever been in question. As conflicted as he had appeared the night of his birthday, he had certainly regained enough composure to brush me off tonight. Whatever trace of friendship I had been cultivating with him had been trampled over in mere hours. She really needed to stop handling him with the kid gloves; he didn't need it anymore. I hadn't hurt him. I, however, was a completely different story.

I didn't know if I would ever be the same.

However stupid the kiss had been, I couldn't pretend that it hadn't happened. I still felt the burn of his lips against mine, the rush of adrenaline that had surged through me. So what if it had meant nothing to him? To me, it had meant the world. I had always thought that Eric and I were explosive together; now that I had something to compare it with, I was proven wrong.

Eric was my safety net. The one thing I could always count on. Familiar, comfortable, frustrating. But he had been by my side for as long as I could remember. He had shared all these ups and downs with me. Never before had his position in my life been in question. As soon as he had seen the signs that it was, he had worked on stepping up his game.

I jumped slightly as my cell phone chirped in the passenger seat beside me. Keeping my eyes on the road, I reached over and grabbed it blindly. When my fingers wrapped around the plastic case, I glanced over briefly enough to realize it was a text. From Matthew. I threw the offending piece of technology back where it came from without checking the message.

"What do you care?" I asked no one in particular. "What's the matter? Didn't twist the knife deep enough in person?"

The new tears that slid down my cheeks betrayed my harsh words. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hear his apologies. In my fairytale world, I wanted him to chase after me, to speed up behind me and make me hear him out. He had begged for me not to leave but whatever he'd wanted to say hadn't been important enough to really stop me.

He had given up on me just when I had needed him most.

My downward spiral continued as I drove on, the miles slipping past me until I realized that I had spent hours circling Fort Wayne. If I'd really wanted to, I could have driven to Indy instead, but I doubted I would have found any more clarity there. My life was nothing more than a series of questions needing answers I wasn't ready to come up with yet. Only when I completely cleared my mind of everything other than the action of driving did I reach my epiphany.

At the next exit, I pulled off of the interstate and changed direction. It was as if a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I still wasn't ready to jump for joy; the next few days would be hard for me, but if I could manage them, I could deal with anything.

I knew exactly what I had to do.

#### Epilogue

The alarm on his cell pierced the early morning silence of the darkened bedroom. It rang incessantly, the volume increasing as he untangled an arm from the comforter and set about slapping at the nightstand in the direction of the noise. After a couple of failed attempts, his fingers found the phone and clasped around the still chirping item, dragging it back under the blanket with him. With his other hand, he removed the pillow from over his head and pried open his eyelids.

Five-thirty came early. Especially when he had rung in all the hours prior by staring at the ceiling before finally, blissfully being taken over by sheer exhaustion an hour before. For a split second, he contemplated faking illness and calling in to work, but that wouldn't solve anything. It would make things worse; leave him alone with all of those unpleasant thoughts that he couldn't escape. At least with a job to do, with a shift to manage, he could try to lose himself in the mundane. Thank goodness there would be no major decisions on the docket for today. He was spent.

The deafening alarm still pounded in his ears even after he turned it off. Desperately, he checked the phone for missed calls, new messages that he knew wouldn't be there. Of course, there were none. Only the reminder that she hadn't answered him.

Are you okay?

Those inadequate words were the last that appeared on his screen, typed by his finger in an attempt to try to undo some of the damage that he had undoubtedly inflicted the night before. There was no response. Just the cursor flashing expectantly, waiting for him to try something else. He was all out of ideas.

With a heavy sigh, he lifted himself out of bed, replacing the phone on the nightstand as he made his way into the master bath to shower and get ready. One look in the mirror at his bloodshot eyes confirmed that today would be a glasses kind of day. There was no way his contacts would feel comfortable in eyes that were more red than blue.

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn he was reliving one of his mornings after from college. The trappings of a massive hangover were all there, but this one wasn't alcohol-induced. He almost wished it had been. He could deal with the headache, the vomiting, even another arrest better than what he was left with now.

The regret was suffocating.

He showered quickly as always, not feeling the water against his skin. Honestly, he had no idea whether the spray had been scalding hot or ice cold. His body was numb; it didn't matter. The cleanliness was just a courtesy for those who had the bad luck to be around him. No amount of soap could scrub away the dirtiness that lingered in his soul.

"Don't hurt her," Blake had warned him more than once. He had tried not to, damn it, even falling upon his own sword in an attempt to keep her from harm. But last night had been an epic failure. He had watched her shatter into a million pieces before him, even as his own heart broke right along with hers.

As he walked out into the living room, returning to the scene of the crime so to speak, he was overcome with a pang of guilt like no other. Never would he forget the look on her face when he had pulled away from her kiss. The shock, the confusion that washed over her features was brutal. It had been all he could do to steel himself against the desire to lift her up and take her back to his bed. She had wanted that, too. Or at least she thought she did.

But he couldn't be that guy. Not the one who led her into temptation just as her boyfriend was trying to do right by her. Eric had been slow in coming to the right conclusion, but he was there now and he deserved his chance. And Lauren wasn't going to cheat on him with her roommate's brother, no matter how conflicted she seemed to be. If she wasn't strong enough to stop herself, he would have to be strong enough for the both of them.

She had had every right to be mad at him. He had never before witnessed someone that small filled with such rage. Her words had lashed out at him, her growl practically primal as she had fought against the hysteria that was so close to the surface. Behind those incensed eyes he had recognized how frightened she was, just on the verge of tears. He imagined it had taken all of her will to slam the door behind her. She had probably collapsed into tears the second she hit the porch.

If he had been a better man, he would have thrown open the door and gone out into the cold after her. He would have grabbed her in his arms and held her close and told her how much he loved her. He would have made her listen. But there were too many parallels to the night at the party where he had gotten drunk and stolen Chris's car to chase after someone who ended up meaning nothing to him. For his troubles he had ended up losing his parents and his freedom for the next six months. Obviously Lauren meant so much more to him than his college flavor of the month, but the sheer déjà vu factor had frozen him in place.

His hand had slid from the doorknob in defeat. Spineless, he had sunk to the floor, the wind knocked out of him. His body shook with dry sobs.

That had been how Chris had found him, curled up practically in the fetal position. With all the drama going on, he had completely spaced the fact that his best friend had planned to come over after his shift on the ambulance. He had entered through the garage like usual with his own key, no formalities necessary. If Matthew hadn't been so distraught, he would have found his friend's reaction to the scene amusing. Chris had been just about to employ his paramedical training when he had sat up and assured him that nothing was wrong other than he was the world's biggest idiot.

They had sat and talked for hours. Chris was exactly the right person to confide in, given his own experience with unrequited love. Nothing said "expert at relationship torment" like holding on to the engagement ring you had intended to give someone just in case they ever decided to come back to you. The situations were entirely different, as Blake and Chris had actually had a relationship implode, whereas Lauren and he had done little more than flirt with one another. The pain that Chris had experienced had been years ago; Matthew's wound was still raw and fresh.

Eventually, Chris had yawned one too many times, and Matthew realized he was speaking in circles, rehashing the same things over and over again. He had pretended to be tired himself and had put on a brave face so his friend would leave. Chris had virtually made him promise not to do anything drastic before heading home to his own loneliness.

On his way out, Chris had commented about how slick the roads were. This passing remark had set Matthew off into another tailspin. With the way Lauren had fled earlier, this news chilled him to the bone. He envisioned her navigating the highway in her altered state, sliding off into a ditch somewhere. This was when he had sent the text. Of course she hadn't answered it, but he wasn't certain if it was out of spite or due to the fact that she was in trouble.

He had almost called Blake just to make sure she had arrived home okay, but he thought better of it. His sister would put two and two together easily, and he wasn't ready to have that lecture yet. If Lauren had come home all out of sorts, she either hadn't told Blake the reasoning behind it or his sibling was still nursing her wounds. And if she hadn't made it home the night before without at least a phone call in explanation, Blake would have surely called her brother for advice.

That line of thinking had been enough to convince him to try to go to sleep. Rather than shut his mind off, however, the darkness had only reminded him how alone he was. How alone he was always going to be.

His stomach too sour for breakfast, he grabbed his coat and headed for the garage. As the overhead door creaked open sleepily, he was greeted with the vision of several inches of new snowfall. Damn. The Mustang would have been better suited to his mood, loud and angry and dangerous, but the Camry would have to do. Even in dry pavement, he wouldn't have trusted himself to drive the convertible. He likely would have killed himself doing so.

Safely at work, he pocketed his cell as he went out on the floor. He never, ever, did that since his employees couldn't have their phones during work hours, but today he allowed himself the luxury. If Lauren did break down and call him he sure as hell wasn't about to miss it. She would never leave a voice mail, and seeing her number in his missed call log would haunt him forever. He had the sinking feeling that she wouldn't reach out to him ever again, but it was worth a shot to keep hope alive.

He was stalking back to his office when it rang, the vibration against his leg startling him. He held his breath and fished it out of his pocket, praying for it to be her. Instead, it was Blake. He swallowed hard, realizing it was time to take his medicine. They would have to have this conversation sometime. It might as well be now.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. It sounded hollow even to his own ears. Self-preservation was a funny thing. Maybe if he pretended that nothing was wrong, his sister wouldn't jump down his throat no matter how much he deserved it. He closed his eyes and waited for her wrath on the other end of the line.

It never came.

"Blake?" he said finally, his blood running cold. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." This was clearly a lie, he could tell it in the way her voice waivered. A million scenarios played out in his mind of what would have caused this, but none of them prepared him for the words she said next. "It's not me; it's Lauren. She's gone."

#### Acknowledgments

First of all, I'd like to thank my own personal Matthew for allowing me to embark on this crazy self-publishing journey and believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself. He saved this novel from the delete key more than once and only rolled his eyes a few times when he read over my shoulder as I wrote. Maybe someday I'll write that vampire novel he's requested, but for now, there's more story to tell with these characters. He's also convinced that I am Lauren in disguise-I'll allow him to think what he wants but for me there is no question: he's the only one that I'll ever need.

Thanks also to Angela, Cara, Chrissy, Deb, Henri, Jen, JoEllen and Nicole who bravely volunteered to read over this in its rough format. Their words of encouragement and enthusiasm for the story and characters are greatly appreciated.

Last but not least, a huge thanks to Parabelle. Their prolific and profound music helped to bring life to these characters and emotions to these pages. What started out as a random mention in my book turned into something on a slightly bigger scale. Not only are they super talented musicians but also really awesome people for allowing me to name drop them and being cool about it. Thanks for the smiley face – I'll never delete that.

#### About the Author

Alicia Renee Kline has been writing for as long as she can remember. This hobby has progressed from filling countless spiral notebooks with bubbly handwriting (and scribbling out her errors) to the more technologically advanced route of today. Now armed with her laptop, she can easily hit the delete key and pretend that she gets everything right the first time.

She resides in Northeastern Indiana with her husband, two daughters, two cats and two hamsters. When she is not busy being an author, she works in the insurance industry.

If you enjoyed this novel, please don't keep it a secret! Also, please consider writing a review to help others find their next escape from reality.

To learn more about Alicia and dig deeper into the world of _Intoxicated_ , visit her website at aliciareneekline.com or follow her on Twitter at @readaliciarenee. She loves to hear from her readers and welcomes your comments and discussions.

So where did Lauren go and what did she decide? Read on for a preview of _Shattered_ , coming soon....

The drive to Indianapolis had never felt longer. Of course, it didn't help that I had been stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the last five miles. Everybody and their brother must have had the same idea as I had, at least in part. But I wasn't starting the weekend early, heading down to the state capital on Friday night to party.

I was about to start the rest of my life.

With nothing better to do while I crept along, I turned the volume up on the radio only to immediately wish I hadn't. I'd forgotten that I'd had Parabelle playing on my way to Matthew's last night. After our fight and my hasty exit, I'd muted the volume and it had stayed that way until just now. Sitting here in traffic allowed me to focus on the lyrics; the feelings they evoked weren't pretty. Tears clouded my vision as I related my own experiences to those in the songs. Perhaps I was reading too much into things, but it was like they had been written about me. I eventually conceded defeat and turned the stereo completely off. No, music wasn't good for me right now. Maybe never again.

It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be relating to sorrow and heartbreak and sacrifice. Just two days prior, my boyfriend of ten years had proposed. I should be all rainbows and unicorns and happiness, not looking in my rearview mirror in hopes to find a black Camry behind me.

Matthew had let me go. Part of me had wanted to see his car in the parking lot after I came out of work. I had wanted him to stop me; at least try to talk me out of going down to see Eric tonight. I wanted him to apologize even though he hadn't really been in the wrong. He had a valid point. Kissing him, expecting anything more from him when I was a heartbeat away from becoming someone else's wife was very stupid.

But he hadn't shown up. After all those weeks of tension between us, of second guessing every little thing he did and reading way more meaning into it than was necessary, he had thrown in the towel. Maybe he hadn't even been interested in fighting for me in the first place. Maybe I had just believed the pictures that everyone around me had painted.

My brief conversation with Blake had told me what I needed to know. Matthew hadn't mentioned last night to her, and I wasn't about to bring it up. Her brother could remain on the pedestal she had built for him and she would never be the wiser. I had respected her wishes and not hurt him. I had, however, impaled myself in the process.

Come to think of it, Blake had given up rather easily as well. Granted I had packed up my entire room and stolen away practically in the middle of the night, but still. I had expected more from her. Sure she had texted, and even pretended to be an irate customer with a subpar credit score to reach me at work, but she had turned around and abruptly exited the arena with her tail between her legs when I mentioned Eric's name.

And so here I was, inching along in Indy's rush hour traffic, momentarily homeless. All my worldly possessions fit in the trunk of my car, much the same as they had when I hauled them away from my studio apartment on the wrong side of town. The only thing that had changed was they were now stowed in a much larger, shinier vehicle.

My adult life had always been largely transient. Leases could be broken – I had just proven that to be true this morning – and jobs didn't really, truly, tie you down, either. I could insert and remove myself from people's lives on a whim and they barely noticed. No matter how badly I wanted them to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a black Toyota change lanes. Instinctively, my breath caught and I turned slightly in its direction to look at the driver without full-on staring. My heart sunk when I realized it was a false alarm. I cursed him for having such a ubiquitous car. I had never really noticed how many people drove Camrys until I had a reason to look for one in particular.

It was stupid of me to even imagine him rushing down here after me. I had told Blake I was going to Indy for goodness sakes. He didn't know where Eric lived; he had never been down here with me before to see where my comfort zone was. He had no idea where my favorite local haunts were. It wasn't as though he would blindly stumble upon me through sheer force of will. It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

And in order to be found, someone had to be looking.

I swallowed down the bile in my throat that came with the realization that he had done just what I had asked. He had left me alone. That's what I had screamed at him when I'd jerked away from his touch and stormed out his door. Except for a final text message which I'd handily ignored, that had been our final contact.

Sort of like Blake and Chris and their whole "rot in hell" moment. Whatever good memories that I could take away from our brief friendship/massive crush would be clouded forever by the explosive ending. An ending that I had put into motion all on my own.

As much as I wanted to blame him for the mess I had made, I knew I alone had created it. I had practically ambushed him last night. I'd conducted my own fishing expedition of sorts trying to gauge his interest in me. I couldn't be upset that he had given me an answer I didn't want to hear.

We couldn't be anything. The thought of us being together was stupid. It just wouldn't work.

Traffic picked up slightly as the Indianapolis skyline came into view. I sighed or breathed a sigh of relief; I wasn't sure which. Whatever the case, I was soon cruising through downtown, traveling the streets I knew like the back of my hand. There was a sense of familiarity here that I hadn't achieved yet in Fort Wayne. A sense of home that would be hard to recreate in a place where you had cut yourself off from the only two people there you really knew.

A momentary panic struck me as I swung my car into the entrance of Eric's parking garage. What if he wasn't here? He wasn't expecting me until tomorrow; maybe he had gone out with the guys to celebrate his last night of assumed bachelorhood. The butterflies in my stomach subsided when I spied the BMW in its usual spot only to return again as I parked in mine.

I exited the car, taking only my purse and the black velvet box that had sat shotgun the entire way down. My legs felt wobbly as I strode to the elevator. The engagement ring weighed heavily in my hands as I ascended the nine floors to his condo. Even though the box itself was tiny, there was no mistaking the meaning inside it. In just the few short hours it had been in my possession it had turned my world upside down.

The elevator came to a stop. As the doors opened to reveal the hallway I told myself the nausea I felt had everything to do with the enclosed space and nothing to do with my plan.

It was time to confront the boyfriend.

