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‘I never would have guessed anyone could be so hot in the sack and yet so heartless out of it.’
She let the accusation wash over her, like all the others.
He can’t hurt you, unless you let him.
‘I suppose that’s one of the many mysteries of the universe, isn’t it, Lover Boy.’ She scooped her purse up off the bed, slung it over her shoulder, and fisted her fingers on the strap so he wouldn’t see them shaking. ‘I’ll catch a cab to the airport. If you could have my luggage sent on, I’d appreciate it. I’ll email you when the website and blog are live.’
He didn’t say anything as she walked away. But while the panic pushing against her chest began to ease as she ran through the mansion’s hallways, the pain she’d spent ten years running away from turned into a living, breathing thing—as sharp and relentless as it had ever been as it consumed her.
FIFTEEN
‘Gina, I need a favour.’ Reese’s furious whisper interrupted Gina’s listless gaze out of the large mullioned window of the Manhattan city clerk’s office.
‘A favour, right.’ She forced a smile, trying to get into the party spirit, which had eluded her ever since they’d arrived twenty minutes ago at the newly refurbished, and suitably ornate Manhattan Marriage Bureau in preparation for Cassie’s wedding.
Reese threaded an arm through Gina’s. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? You look exhausted?’
Gina sighed, wondering why on earth she’d bothered to spend half an hour plastering on foundation. ‘I had the flu that’s been going around,’ she said, giving the stock excuse she’d prepared earlier, after a similar interrogation from both Marnie and Cassie when they’d all convened at Amber’s Bridal two days ago, to bully Cassie into picking out a proper wedding gown. ‘But I’m on the mend now.’
Or I will be, eventually.
What a fool she’d been, to think she could carry on an affair with Carter and not plummet back down the black hole that had claimed her once before. If she hadn’t been feeling so fragile she’d have kicked her own backside.
Reese gave her arm a gentle squeeze. ‘So that’s why you disappeared off the radar and bailed on all the party planning.’ She sent her a curious glance. ‘You could have let me know. I happen to be a champion pamperer. My chicken soup is legendary.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t feel up to company,’ Gina replied, deflecting the sympathy she knew she didn’t deserve. Lying to her friends about Carter had been almost as unconscionable as lying to herself.
‘So what’s the favour?’ she asked, keen to steer them onto a new, less debilitating topic.
Reese dipped her head towards the trio of guys collected on the other side of the office’s grand art deco antechamber—who made a fascinating tableau as they awaited Cassie’s arrival with Marnie.
Tuck, Cassie’s husband-to-be, stood chatting with his witness, Dylan Brookes. With his rangy athlete’s build and tousled blond hair, Tuck looked rugged and gorgeous in a perfectly tailored designer suit, the incessant tapping of his foot on the marble floor the only sign of wedding jitters. Dylan, on the other hand, looked more relaxed and debonair as he kept Tuck’s mind off his nerves.
Standing apart from the two close friends, Mason, Reese’s ex-husband and current fiancé—and the guy who had effectively stolen her away from Dylan on the eve of their wedding earlier that summer—had his hands buried in the pockets of his suit, the silk tie already tugged loose and listing to one side.
While Dylan was covering any awkwardness with his customary dignity, Mason looked agitated and a little surly. Gina would hazard a guess the ex-marine would rather be charging into a war zone under enemy fire than having to make polite conversation with Reese’s former fiancé while wearing a suit.
‘I’m about to go rescue Mason, before he rips off his tie altogether—but could you run interference with Dylan later—once Tuck’s all loved up with Cassie at the Tribeca.’
Oh, please, just kill me now.
Gina bit the tip of her tongue to stave off the inevitable eye-roll. After her aborted two-week fling in Savannah she wasn’t sure she’d be able to flirt again in this lifetime. But how could she mention that to Reese without dragging her friend into her pity party? Which would be pointless in the extreme. What could Reese say about it? Except maybe I told you so?
Carter and her had always been a mistake. Even without the miserable secret of the miscarriage lying in wait to trip them up, it never would have worked.
The cold, judgmental look when she’d told him the truth was all the proof she needed that the two of them had never been in line for a happy ever after.
The only thing she hadn’t quite accounted for was how horrendous the fallout would be after a measly two weeks with him. And she laid the blame for that squarely at Carter’s door. The sex should have been enough for him. But he’d insisted on wanting more, forcing her into an intimacy she couldn’t handle, and tricking her into loving him again.
‘I can see how it’s going to get a little awkward, once you and Mason and Tuck and Cassie are paired off,’ Gina observed, trying to concentrate on the problem at hand instead of the insoluble one in her past.
She watched Dylan give Tuck a hearty pat on the back—the two men sharing a joke. ‘But I think you may be worrying unnecessarily. Dylan appears to be way too smooth to allow a minor social catastrophe like being jilted at the altar to throw him off his stride.’
‘I didn’t jilt him,’ Reese snapped. ‘If you’ll recall, he jilted me.’ She waved her arm, to dispel the subject. ‘But that’s beside the point. I don’t want him to feel like a fifth wheel at the TriBee. So I could use your super power. If you’re sufficiently recovered from the flu, that is?’
The flu—real or imaginary—wouldn’t have stopped her before, she thought miserably. Dylan Brookes, with his handsome face, immaculate manners and exceptional dress sense, was exactly the type of guy Gina would once have enjoyed zapping with her super power. But that was before her super power had met its kryptonite in Savannah. A kryptonite that had refused to stay buried.
Carter had attempted to contact her several times since her return home, but she’d deleted his emails and texts unread and erased his answerphone messages—and communicated exclusively with his PA about the commission. Her bags had arrived by special courier the day before with a note attached, addressed in his looping black scrawl, which she’d also thrown away unopened.
