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Cradling the plant in the crook of her arm, she leaned against Carol. “He is your one-night-only husband, and no matter how wrecked he looked, he still left you and never called.”
Images of Vance and her parents flashed in her mind, and she allowed the familiar angry impulses to blot out her sorrow.
What could be so important that he couldn’t reach out?
Then again, he didn’t have her number either and probably didn’t want to ask the guys for it.
Could she blame him when she’d done the same thing?
She stared down at her shirt—his shirt—and huffed an irritated breath.
Yes, she could absolutely blame him.
He was the one who’d handed her the bouquet with that sexy, infuriatingly naughty, deliciously devious look in his dreamy brown eyes. If this marriage was anyone’s fault, the onus belonged on him.
She buckled the plant into the passenger seat, then got in her car and rested her head on the steering wheel.
Her heart was ready to beat itself out of her chest. Seeing Landon after their wild night had sent her into a tailspin.
It was a crazy twist of fate that the man was in her life to begin with.
He’d been her first crush when she was a teen. She’d done a good job keeping it to herself—not that Penny, Charlotte, or Libby would have given her grief for it. But at the time, she needed something to call her own—something separate from her real life.
And now what?
It was time to get on with it.
She started Carol up and headed for the housewarming party.
But she couldn’t stop herself from speculating on what would come next.
Landon would want a divorce.
Perhaps that’s what had ignited the torment in his eyes.
She turned onto the parkway that led into the sprawling Crystal Acres neighborhood. The gate was open, and she sailed into the ritzy oasis in the heart of Denver. Mansions with ample acreage lined the tree-covered streets. Thanks to Charlotte living in this neighborhood, and Penny a few miles away in the equally fancy Crystal Hills neighborhood, she was well acquainted with this part of town.
She pulled up to Raz and Libby’s sprawling mansion and parked on the circle drive, making sure to keep her distance from Landon’s shiny Porsche.
She cut the ignition, turned to the wilting plant, and focused on the deep indigo vase. “I’ll go in there and be my old sarcastically endearing self. This is no big deal, right?”
Like the bonbons, the pot didn’t offer any words of encouragement.
She should probably stop requesting advice from inanimate objects.
She unbuckled the plant and got out of her car. “Your life is a dumpster fire,” she muttered. “You married a musician on a double-dog dare, but you are still a badass to be reckoned with. Be the take-no-crap bitch,” she finished, rocking a pep talk, then glanced down at her bright orange socks and sandals—colorful orange socks with a hole exposing her big toe. Not precisely the wardrobe of a badass bitch, but a gal had to work with what she had. “Charge inside and give them some classic Harper Presley sass.”
Focus on Libby and Raz. It’s their party and a day to celebrate their yoga-doing, donkey-racing, vibrator-testing bliss.
She could escape and play Auntie Harper with the kids. She could suggest a game of hide-and-seek and remain hidden for the duration of the party.
She had options.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she stared at the front door, gripped the knob, turned that sucker…
And…action.
She listened for voices and jogged through the enormous house, moving toward the overlapping conversations. She made her way through the kitchen and caught sight of everyone on the covered porch.
