The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(36)

On the personal front, a fail. She’d chosen the wrong friend, the wrong guy.

Next time she had an instinct about someone, she was going to do the opposite thing.

Nodding all the while, Honor stared at Brogan. Why were his eyelashes so long? Why had God seen fit to give him that perfect, curling, chestnut hair? Hmm? Anyone? Bueller?

They’d been here for twenty-seven minutes. About twenty-eight minutes too long, in other words. Did Dana know he was meeting her? Was Dana at Brogan’s right now, in the same bed where Honor had—

Oh. The sports story was over. Brogan was looking at her, his face concerned. “Honor, are we okay?” he asked gently, and her face burned with heat.

“Yes! Yes, we’re fine. It’s fine. I’ve practically forgotten about it.” She forced a laugh, making her sound like a dying seal. Faking. Not her area of expertise. Jessica, who was taking an order at a nearby table, shot her a look.

“It’s just that we’ve been friends for so long,” he said. Damn those blue eyes. The concern in them seemed genuine. It probably was. Brogan was not a faker, either.

“Look, Brogan,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I was surprised, I overreacted and I’d love it if we could just drop the subject. Okay?”

He nodded. “Of course. It’s just...I hate thinking that I led you on,” he said. “I always thought we felt the same way about each other.”

She took a large swallow of her drink. “No, we did. We do. Um, I care for you. As a friend. When I asked you if you wanted to get married, it was an ill-formed thought.” One she’d spent roughly six years thinking. “I’m over it. Really.”

He smiled a little. “Good. I’m glad. You mean so much to me.”

God. This night was endless.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” Bless her, Jessica was here with a pitcher of water.

“We’re good, I think,” he said. “Do you want another martini, On?”

“Oh, no! No. Nope. Thanks. I have to get going pretty soon,” Honor added.

Brogan’s face lit up. “Right! Your date. We’ll take the check, then, Jess.”

Thank you, baby Jesus! This interminable evening would finally end, and then she was going home to watch Top Ten Tumors, and she didn’t care if Dad and Mrs. J. were doing it on the hallway floor. On second thought, maybe she would call Pru and see if she could crash. She and Abby could watch the tumor show together.

Jess went off, and Honor forced a smile and looked at Brogan. Three more minutes, and she’d be free.

He was staring at his glass. “I’m so glad we can still be friends,” he said. “And I hope you and Dana can be patch things up, too.”

Two and a half minutes. “Oh, you know. I’m...it’s...”

“She said you guys talked a little. Told me you cut your hair. It looks really nice, by the way. Kind of shocking, but really nice.”

“Thanks.”

He shifted in his chair. “Um, did I tell you I’m gonna join the volunteer fire department here? I thought it’d be good.”

“That’s great,” she said. Two minutes and twenty-four seconds.

“So you’re seeing someone?” Brogan asked.

“Excuse me? Oh, yes. Yes, I am. Mmm-hmm.”

“What’s he like?”

“Uh, he’s so...” An image of Droog mopping the floor with Wet Ones popped into her head. “He’s, uh, European. Very funny. Cute accent.” One! One terrible lie! Two! Two minutes till you can leave!

“Think it’s something special?” Brogan asked.

“Possibly. It’s a little early to tell. Maybe.” She smiled, hopefully not like a wolverine. A bead of sweat trickled down her back, irritating as a housefly.

“That’s good. I’m really glad to hear it.” He took a breath, then another. “Honor, I have to tell you something, because I don’t want you to hear it from anyone else.” He hesitated. “Dana’s pregnant.”

Honor was fairly sure her expression didn’t flicker. Her eyes, though...something was wrong with them. Blink, the eggs advised. Right. “Pregnant?”

“Yeah. We just found out. It was a surprise, but we’re really, really happy.”

He was. She could see it in his ridiculous-colored eyes.

He was going to be a father.

Dana never wanted kids. She’d mock the obsession of new mothers, saying, “Another friend gone.” And when a patron would ask if she wanted to hold a baby, Dana would pass, then later say, “Why would I want to hold that little petri dish, right? And the smell, Honor! Can you imagine wiping someone’s butt eight times a day?”

The thing was, yes. She could. She’d love to wipe someone’s butt eight times a day. To cuddle a baby against her cheek, breathe in the smell of a sweet little head, hold a tiny hand in hers.

“Are you okay?” Brogan asked.

“Yes,” she said faintly. Oh, crap. There were tears in her eyes. She looked down, then forced a smile. “I’m happy for you, Brogan. I am. This is great. Babies are...they’re so...magnificent. This is great news! Good for you guys!”

“Honor? Hey, sorry to interrupt.” It was Jessica, angels bless her. The woman was getting a raise. “Your date’s here.”