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up the empty Tostitos bag and hurled it at the phone. The message he left was less cheery, but he obviously had no clue. “Now you’re worrying me, lass. I’d come check on you, but...” There was a slight pause, and I could hear him sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I got into bed and tried to let the sound of the rain on the roof lull me to sleep. But how could I sleep with bed buddies like these—anger, hurt, betrayal, loss? They kicked and pinched and swirled inside me. I tossed and turned and searched for excuses to make what Ian had done okay.

Maybe I had jumped to a conclusion.

Maybe she was his long-lost sister who’d been abandoned at birth.

Maybe, despite all evidence to the contrary, Ian had a good reason to break a date with me and go out with another woman. I tossed aside the sheets and schlepped to the bathroom to pee. Relieving my bladder in the dark bathroom, I berated myself.

I should have answered the phone.

I shuffled to the sink, rinsed my hands, turned on the unforgiving bathroom light, and squinted into the mirror. Why the hell hadn’t I answered the phone? Because now, I was actually considering driving out to his place with my red-rimmed eyes, my swollen nose, my blotchy face.

Wasn’t I an adult? An adult who owed it to Ian to at least give him the chance to explain? I should call him back. But no—I needed to see his face, so I could tell whether he was telling the truth, or playing on my desperate need to believe his lies.

I splashed my face with the hottest water I could stand and followed with a cold rinse. Visually unimproved but filled with purpose, I pulled on clothes, grabbed car keys, and headed out into a driving rain that soaked through my jeans before I got the car door open.

Ian still wanted me, or he wouldn’t have called.

But why would he want me when he could have her?

I had no idea, but I needed to find out. Maybe giving Ian everything wasn’t the wrong thing to do, after all. Maybe all I had to do was lay my soul bare and then give a little more.

It took an hour to make the twenty-minute drive to his house. I navigated flooded streets and detoured around an entire section of town where homes and businesses stood under a foot of water. Just before midnight, I turned onto his drive.

The big house was all-but dark. A dim light over the kitchen sink glowed through the mullioned dining room windows that faced the highway.

I turned off my headlights and stopped halfway down the drive, remembering. I’d once stood at that sink, sipping coffee, leaning against Ian, watching a pair of deer nibble at the gardenia in the back yard.

Should I go through with this? I looked like hell. Maybe I should wait until Monday morning and go by his office.

I had just made the comforting decision to retreat when I saw her.

She emerged like a seductive ghost from the shadowed dining room into the kitchen, her hair floating around her in rich ebony waves. When she reached up into the cabinet over the sink, the black satin robe she wore pulled against ample breasts. She brought down a crystal tumbler, held it under the faucet, and gazed out the window into the dark back yard.

I knew the pure, flowing well-water would fill the glass in exactly the way she expected, just like everything else she’d ever asked for or wanted. She was the kind of woman who never had to wonder why anything happened—or why it didn’t. Just like Melody.

I didn’t worry whether the beautiful woman behind the window saw my cranky old car parked halfway down the drive. Even if she’d been looking in my direction, she couldn’t see me. Even if she’d thought of looking past her own desires, the kitchen light would reflect against the dining room windows and throw back her own image.

She would never know that once again, I had come in second.

She would never know that once again, I was sitting on the outside looking in.

She would never know, and neither would anyone else.

I backed my car down the drive, and waited until I reached the main road before I turned on the headlights. I went home and tried to sleep, finally giving up when the sky lightened to a pearly gray. Then I walked to the river, so early in the morning that even Lizzie wasn’t interested in coming along. I sat alone on the bench where I’d first kissed Ian, and watched the pale, insufficient sun rise over the water.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I managed to avoid Ian all of Monday.

Once, he came up the stairs between classes, but I initiated a conversation with a couple of parents and waited for him to lose interest.

Maybe he had a great excuse for standing me up and then having dinner and a sleep-over with that sex-on-stilettoes woman. The sad fact was, he wouldn’t need a great excuse. Or even a good one. I’d believe any old flimsy excuse he gave, because I was weak where Ian Buchanan was concerned. And until I could be strong, I had to stay away.

I wasn’t even angry anymore. I was sorry I had let him get so far under my skin. Sorry I’d let my need for love blind me to the truth, and hadn’t realized from the beginning that for him, it had only been about the sex. But at least now, I was crystal-clear about what I wanted.

I wanted marriage. I wanted a man who would love me—and only me—for the rest of our lives. I wanted more than Ian could give. Maybe I should give Ben a chance...

When I got home, I changed from my ballet clothes into jeans and a tee in two-point-nine seconds, and Lizzie and I left the house in case Ian decided to drop by. Because if I came

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