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The woman walked forward in her bathrobe and slippers. “For goodness’ sake, Jonah, stop all that racket. The Simpsons aren’t home.”
“Where the hell are they?”
“They drove to Grand Junction to the hospital. Something was wrong with the baby.”
Bryce’s son? Shit. “Is he okay?”
Mrs. Norris shrugged. “I don’t know, but he was making a lot of noise. Sounded horrible. Bryce and his parents were frantic.”
“My God.” No wonder Bryce hadn’t answered my phone calls.
“I’m really sorry to disturb you,” I said.
I was tempted to drive to the hospital, but I didn’t know which hospital they’d gone to. And Bryce wasn’t answering his phone. I called him one more time and left a voice mail, asking him to call me when he had news about Henry. Then I drove home.
Damn.
Chapter Sixteen
Melanie
It had served me right. After all, I’d left him the first time we were together. Still, Jonah leaving me stuck in my craw. It hurt. And I wasn’t exactly sure why.
I also didn’t know why I went back to the lingerie shop the next morning before my first appointment. I was fingering the silken material of the Midnight Reverie collection when the same blond salesgirl came up to me.
“That would be a great color on you,” she said.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“I’m not surprised. With your opalescent skin tone, purple is a no-brainer.”
I chuckled. “No, I meant I’ve heard it from you before. I was in here a while back.”
She blushed a little but at least had the courtesy not to stammer. “Well, I was right then, and I’m right now.” She let out a nervous giggle.
“I don’t wear purple,” I said. “My eyes are green. It would clash.”
“Don’t be silly. You’d be great in purple. What’s your size? You can try one of the bras on.”
“No, thank you.”
“What colors do you like to wear? I’m sure we have something that would look lovely on you.”
“Green, beige, teal, blue,” I answered automatically. Oh crap, now she would want to sell me something.
“Oh, I must show you our Oceane collection. Colors of the ocean. Blue, teal, emerald. They’d be lovely on you. We just got in some beautiful satin nightgowns.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me. “I can’t wait for you to see them.”
I had no choice but to follow her until we came to
a display on the other side of the store. The collection was indeed lovely, and instead of skimpy bras and panties, these were long gowns, very pretty.
“Look,” she said, holding up a bright-green gown. “This nearly matches the color of your eyes. And with that beautiful blond hair of yours—goodness, you’ll be gorgeous.”
I sighed. The gown was stunning. It was simple, spaghetti straps and a sheath style, cinched in slightly at the waist and then fanning out over the butt and into a skirt that hit halfway down the calf.
“What’s your size, hon?” she asked.
Hon? She had to be half my age.
