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She realized they were at his dad’s wake, after all, and put her hand on his arm. “Sorry.”
Bryce gave a half smile. “No, no, you’re right. It wasn’t. I really am sorry.”
She took a deep breath, which did nothing to slow her heart rate. “Well, it’s done. I should go. Hang in there, Bryce. I’ll see you at the funeral.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry again, Coll.”
And she knew he was. Bryce was a gentle idiot.
But not as much of an idiot as she was.
* * *
SIXYEARSAGO, for no good reason, Colleen typedLucas Campbell, Chicagointo Google.
She couldn’t help it. Every once in a while, she did it. He didn’t have a Facebook page, or Twitter, like a normal person. But hewasmarried to the daughter of one of Chicago’s most prominent citizens, and there was mention of him once in a while.
She’d seen their wedding write-up in the Chicago newspaper online. The bride was attended by her closest friend from Miss Porter’s School, the article said, as well as the groom’s sister and eldest niece. His twin nieces served as flower girls. The groom’s best man was his cousin, Bryce Campbell. The reception was held at The Drake, where guests were treated to music by the Moonlight Jazz Orchestra. The renowned Sylvia Weinstock designed the cake. The bride’s dress was custom-made by Isaac Mizrahi, a family friend. The couple had met in college. Lucas Campbell was a proud son of the South Side and worked for Forbes Properties in construction—so much for law school, Colleen had thought, and why bother when you could marry into one of Chicago’s wealthiest families?
But it didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like him.
Then again, she didn’t really know him as well as she’d thought.
After that, she vowed not to look ever again. Bryce was living out of town at the time, and Joe was kind enough not to mention Lucas when he came into the bar. If she didn’t want to hear about Lucas, she didn’t have to.
Her iron resolve lasted about eight months, until her birthday when she drank an entire bottle of Blue Heron Chardonnay by herself, and looked up baby announcements on Google.
Nothing.
She looked again every few months after that, because for some masochistic reason, she wanted to know if Lucas had become a father. She didn’t want to be slammed with that news when she was working at the bar, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide how she felt.
But there were no baby announcements. Not for two years, and Colleen finally stopped looking.
But she couldn’t help thinking about him. She and Faith discussed many times the unfair power of first love. After every guy who turned out to be less than Lucas, after every wine and roses festival that marked another year of not being with Lucas, Colleen missed him so much it felt as if her soul ached.
And then late one snowy night when she was practically alone in the bar, without any good reason, she looked him up on Google again, and boom. TheChicago Sun-Timescame through.
He was laughing in the photo, and so was his wife. They looked gorgeous, her blond hair, his black. Ellen wore a yellow gown with chunky diamond studs in her ears, and Lucas, damn him to hell, looked like a high-class pirate in his tux, just slightly dangerous and utterly, horribly beautiful.
Lucas Campbell and Ellen Forbes-Campbell enjoy comments from the master of ceremonies at the annual Lurie Children’s Hospital gala, the caption read.
Colleen couldn’t look away, even though the picture made it feel like a branch was being rammed through her chest.
She still loved him.
What an idiot she was. She still loved a man who was having a marvelous time with hiswife,far, far away.
She closed the site, deleted the browser history so Connor wouldn’t know how pathetic she was, and went back into the bar, and there sat Bryce Campbell. For a second, he looked so damn much like Lucas that she shuddered with missing the boy who’d once treasured her.
“Hey, Bryce. What can I get you?”
She pulled him a beer, and they chatted. Bryce was sweet. Easy. Uncomplicated. And there on a night when no one else was around, when Bryce had nowhere better to be and neither did she, it was nice to have a friend.
He walked her home, as the snow was heavy, and it was courtly of him. As he stood in front of her house, looking up at the sky, he asked, “You ever wish you left this town, Colleen?”
“Not really,” she said after a beat. “But yeah. Once in a while.”
“I never really thought I’d end up here. At my parents’ house. I always figured I’d be...I don’t know. Cooler. Smarter.”
