Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(115)

“You, too,” she said, punching him on the shoulder.

He punched her back, lightly, then took Colleen’s hand.

Bryce smiled. “So you guys are really together again, huh? Good. I’m so glad Coll and me hooking up didn’t bother you, bro.”

Colleen’s heart stopped. Literally. She felt the blood drain to her feet, then flood back up as her pulse shot into the danger zone.

She didn’t dare move.

No one else did, either, except Bryce, who waved to someone.

“Excuse me?” Lucas said very, very quietly.

“What? Oh, Colleen and me,” Bryce answered, and oh, sphincter damn and blast, Colleen’s legs turned to water.

“What do you mean, you and Colleen?” Paulie asked, her brows coming together.

Realization dawned on Bryce’s perfect face. “Oh. Uh...um...nothing?”

Colleen looked at Lucas, then immediately wished she hadn’t.

This was very bad. Very, very bad.

“Did you guys...date?” Paulie asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t, uh, call it dating,” Bryce said.

“This isn’t really the time,” Colleen began, her voice tight and strange.

“No, no,” Lucas said. “What would you call it, Bryce?”

“Uh, um, I mean, we slept together, but—”

More silence, and then Paulie barked, “Are you kidding me?”

Lucas was granite-still.

“This definitely isn’t the time,” Colleen whispered.

Paulie’s mouth was open. “You slept with Bryce, Colleen?”

And the thing was, Paulie’s inside voice was more of an outside voice, and Didi and the minister and Mr. and Mrs. Forbes froze, and the song on the speakers was “Yellow Ledbetter” by Pearl Jam, for some reason, and who knew what that song was about, anyway? Sounded like the guy was speaking in tongues.

Focus, Colleen. “Um...I...” Colleen couldn’t seem to get her mouth to work.

What could she say, after all?

“This is—you know what?” Paulie said. “This is not my problem. Bryce, sorry about your dad. Lucas, see you around.” With that, she left.

Colleen swallowed. “Um...”

Lucas was glaring at Bryce, who gave her a panicky glance, then looked back at his cousin. “Lucas, bud, uh, remember the time I saved you?”

Then Lucas looked at her, and man, Colleen wished he hadn’t, because those black eyes were burning into her, and so not in a good way. “Let’s talk about this in private,” she whispered.

“No need,” he said. He stood there a horribly long second, then turned and he walked out, dragging her heart behind him.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Bryce said.

She turned to him. “Bryce...”

“Shit, Coll, I’m sorry. I mean, I just...my dad and stuff, I guess I was feeling sentimental.”

“It was one time, and we both agreed never to mention it again! And come on! It wasn’t exactly meaningful.”

“Ouch,” he said.

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.

* * *

SIX YEARS AGO, for no good reason, Colleen typed Lucas Campbell, Chicago into 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 he was married 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.