Listen to Your Heart(22)

I think I love you.

With a shuddering sigh, I bury my face in my blanket, breathing him in until I finally fall into a deep, dark sleep.





“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

Some evil person opens the window blinds, flooding my bedroom with horrible, blinding sunshine. I groan and bury my face in my pillow.

“I’m really regretting giving you a key to my apartment.”

“It’s a good thing you did. Otherwise, I would’ve huffed and puffed and blown your door down. Or, you know, called the super.”

“Your charms wouldn’t work on him. He’s been married to the same woman for nearly fifty years. Because he’s a real man. A real man who doesn’t cheat or lie.”

Lynsey sits down on the side of the bed. “Is that what this five-day vacation’s all about?”

Five days?

I roll over. “What’s today? And don’t you have the flu?”

“Today is Tuesday. And I had the flu. Five days ago.” She pulls me by my arms and forces me to sit up in bed. “I didn’t think much about it when I didn’t hear from you all weekend, but then you called in sick and wouldn’t answer your phone. You never call in sick, and you always answer your phone. I just assumed I gave you my germs, but then I talked to Macy.”

That reminds me. “I want her fired. She runs her mouth too much.”

“We can discuss that later, but first, you need a shower. And food. And maybe a lot of wine. Although if this bedroom is any indication, that’s probably the last thing you need.”

With a shameful groan, I glance at the empty bottles on the nightstand. I rarely drink, and when I do, it’s never more than a glass with dinner.

“I drank a lot.”

“I can see that. What’s going on, Skye?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But you have to. You haven’t left the house in days, you want me to fire one of our best girls, and there’s some conflict with the Martinez-Lynch account—a conflict so massive that the two of you made an epic scene in Antonio’s store. I’m sorry, Skye, but we have to talk about it.”

“The account’s all yours. I’m out.”

“I understand. What I want to know is why.”

I close my eyes and try to find the words.

“Caleb’s the groom.”

She frowns. “Yes. Caleb Lynch is the groom. So?”

“So, Caleb Lynch is Eli’s guitar teacher. Caleb Lynch is 80s guy.”

Lynsey’s rarely quiet, but this time, I’ve stunned her speechless. Her eyes grow wider and wider as I tell her the whole story, and by the end, I’m bawling like a baby.

“No wonder you’re such a mess. What an asshole.”

“That’s the thing, Lyns. I don’t think he is. I mean, except for the being engaged and totally lying about it, I actually think he’s a good guy.”

“Did he have any kind of explanation?”

“He tried. He chased me through Antonio’s store—”

“That’s what Macy said. She also said that, after you stormed out, Caleb punched one of his groomsmen in the face and knocked him to the floor. No idea what that was about.”

I do, and I can’t deny I take some sick satisfaction in the fact that Caleb punched Dane just because I gave him my business card.

“Caleb’s called me about a thousand times. I think he came to my door, too. I just didn’t want to hear it. I still don’t want to hear it. Nothing he says can justify what he’s done, Lyns. He’s engaged, and I can’t even hate the girl because I know how sweet she is. They’re engaged. End of story.”

“Engagements are broken all the time, Skye.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’m just saying engagements are broken all the time. Maybe he got cold feet. Or, maybe he was looking for one last fling before tying the knot.”

“I don’t think that’s it. He had his chance.”

“What do you mean?”

“He . . . slept over.”

Lynsey’s eyes become saucers.

“Nothing happened. But something could have. So easily. If that’s all he wanted, he could have had it. He didn’t even try. He was the perfect gentleman. That was Wednesday night. We cuddled and kissed and watched Dirty Dancing, and then we fell asleep on my couch.”

“He watched Dirty Dancing? Willingly?”

“About as willingly as your husband does it, but yeah, he watched it.”

“My husband watches it because he loves me.”

“Yeah. That’s another thing.”

I grab my phone off the nightstand and listen to my voice mail. Caleb’s agonized voice streams through the speaker. It’s sweet torture, hearing the desperation in his pleas while he begs me to talk to him. Tears trickle down my cheeks as we listen to each and every message. There are some new ones . . . each of them ending with a whispered I think I love you that breaks what little is left of my heart.

“Holy crap,” Lynsey whispers when it’s all over.

We sit in stunned silence a few minutes more until my best friend stands up and offers me her hand.

“Get up. Go take a bubble bath. I’m calling my husband for food and wine. Lots and lots of wine.”