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Chapter Three
“Ell, I know this is a shock. But, honestly, I think you’re handling it as sensibly as any reasonable individual would,” Gen spoke earnestly.
“You mean by closing my shop in the middle of the afternoon and going day drinking with you?”
“Precisely.”
“Not exactly what you’d call responsible behavior.”
Gen snorted. “No, but it’s what any sane person would do when they find out that they’re actually married to their childhood best friend—a person they’ve been secretly harboring a raging crush on since they were eight years old.”
“Oh, stop with that! You’re being ridiculous. I’ve always said, and I’ll say it again, I do not have a crush on Donovan Valentine!”
Gen rolled her eyes as she mouthed the last part along with Ella, then said. “Okay, right. The fire-engine-red blush that just took over about seventy-five percent of your face would beg to differ, but whatever.”
Ella buried her face in her hands and found that, yep, it was burning up.
Damn.
She’d obviously never been able to hide her feelings from Genevieve, anyway. So why didn’t she just cop to them? It should’ve been easy. Gen clearly already knew the truth. But, for whatever reason, she just couldn’t. So for twenty-five years, it had been a steady pattern of deny, deny, deny.
You know why you can’t say it out loud, a little voice in the back of her head whispered. Because that would make it real.
“Gen, what am I going to do?” she moaned.
Gen shrugged. “Go on a honeymoon?”
A stab penetrated Ella’s heart. God. That almost exactly mirrored a joke that Donovan had made in Vegas, fifteen years before. Man, she missed him.
She was quite adept at pushing it down most of the time. She could fool herself pretty easily into thinking that he’d faded from her heart the way he’d faded from her life.
But all it took was one reminder and she was right back in high school again, awash in all of the same feelings, and then she had to admit to herself she was full of shit. Donovan Valentine was still in living color in her heart, every bit as vivid as when he’d lived next door to her and they’d spent every waking moment together.
Genevieve put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “Sorry, hon. I can see this has thrown you for a loop. What do you think you’re going to do about it? For real?”
“I don’t know. I mean, what should I say to those people?”
“Here’s a radical idea. Have you thought about telling them the truth?”
A defensive instinct kicked up in her. “No. I don’t think I can. I mean, what if something I say gets Donovan in trouble?”
“Honey, protecting him isn’t your responsibility. Especially if it comes down to lying to the Feds.”
Her friend’s terminology made Ella giggle, which was a welcome relief. “The ‘Feds’ Gen? Really? Who are you, Al Capone?”
“Oh, honey. I’ve got sides to me you can’t even imagine.”
After their laughter died down, Ella shook her head, the gravity of the situation descending again. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do, G. I don’t even know how to get ahold of him except email. Do you think they monitor that? I’m sure they do. Hell, they might have a spy in here right now, for all we know.”
Gen crinkled her eyes, clearly dubious. “I think you might be overestimating your position on the FBI’s most wanted list, babe.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I just wish there was a way to know for sure that I was doing the right thing.”
“Oh, man, Ell. Welcome to life. Who the hell ever knows if they’re doing the right thing? All you can do is wing it and hope for the best.”
“Oh, God. Please print that on a T-shirt. Immediately, if not sooner.” Ella laughed and nudged her shoulder against her friend’s. She didn’t know if it was the company or the alcohol or both, but she was actually starting to feel a little better.
“I don’t think the world’s ready for my wisdom.”
