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“You look like shit,” Carly said.
“And you’re getting married.”
Carly swore. “Dammit. How in hell do you know? I told Jarret not to tell anyone until I’d had a chance to talk to my folks.”
“Well, I’m sure they know by now since everyone in town does.”
“Well, my parents don’t, because they’re out of town.” Carly sipped her wine. “I’m going to kill Jarret. Who told you?”
“Who else?”
“Abercrombie. Geez, does that guy not have anything better to do with his time than gossip?”
Regan sighed. “He lives alone. Gossip is all he has. Actually, he’s been checking in on me every day. Seems to think I’m heartbroken or something.”
“You are.”
“I am.”
Carly balanced the wineglass in her hands, swirling the deep red liquid around. “Are you sure it’s over between you and Wyatt?”
“I know I can’t live with a man who plays Russian roulette with his life. The way he drives, Carly, it’s like the hounds of hell are on his heels. I can’t do it. All those people find it thrilling and breathtaking. I just was scared the entire time.”
“Well, none of those folks were watching the man they love driving two hundred miles an hour or however fast they go. I mean, it’s crazy. They don’t think about it the same way you do. For them, it’s a way to pass the afternoon. It’s a social thing.”
“I guess.” Regan wasn’t about to share the other stuff. The dark stuff that clouded Wyatt’s life and touched everything that he did.
“Anyway,” Carly continued. “I’m sad for you but hopeful you guys will figure it out. Maybe you just need to attend a few more races.”
“Maybe,” she murmured. “Enough about that.” She leaned forward. “You need to tell me everything. How did Jarret propose?”
Carly squealed. “Oh my God. You won’t believe how he did it. It was so cheesy and dumb, and yet I loved every single minute of it.”
Intrigued, Regan was more than happy to forget about the crap week she’d had and listen to something good.
“Tell me.” Bella hopped onto the sofa, and Regan gently kneaded the dog’s shoulders as Carly launched into her story.
“Well, you know what a promposal is, right?”
“A what?”
“Promposal! All the kids do it now. It’s an elaborate way to ask someone to prom.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t feel so bad since I’ve been out of high school for years.”
“Anyway, so Jarret flew out to the West Coast to see me last weekend, and we went to see this play I’d been telling him about. It was at this small community center near where I live and it’s about these two gay guys who each think the other is straight, and it’s all confusing and funny, and they end up together and—”
“Carly. Promposal. Or whatever it is he did.”
“Right.” Carly giggled. “At the end of the play when the cast came out to do their final bow, they each had a large piece of cardboard with writing on it. Each one told of some silly story from our past and how Jarret fell in love with me. They sang the words, Regan. Everyone sang the words, and then Jarret stood up and asked me to marry him, the two main leads on either side of him, one holding a yes sign, the other holding a yes sign.” She laughed.
“You had no choice.”
“I had no choice. I had to say yes.” She paused. “We’re planning something fairly quick. I don’t want to wait. So we’re thinking July, and I want you to be my maid of honor.”
“Of course.” She hugged her friend. “I’m so happy for you.”
Her cell rang, and she slid off the sofa. “Let me get this, and I’ll grab another bottle of wine.” She knew by the ringtone it was Gwen Bergen.
