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the ice cream down on the table, her throat too tight to swallow anything else. “It was good. It was great. But…” She picked up the iPad and showed it to Wendy. “This was his last girlfriend.”

Wendy took the tablet and looked at the society photo, then she tapped the screen, swiping through the open browser windows. “Why do you have, like…eight tabs open that are all about this woman?”

Kathleen moved to look over Wendy’s shoulder. Her lip curled. “Ugh. She…”

“Is the exact opposite of me,” Alicia said, ignoring Wendy’s question and the embarrassed flush of heat that flooded her face.

“I was going to say she looks like she’s full of herself. Washington power couple nauseating bullshit.” Kathleen tapped the screen and made another face. “But they broke up. What’s the problem?”

Alicia waved at the iPad. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s educated, she’s cultured, she’s the daughter of some big deal guy at his firm. She’s even my physical opposite. She’s petite, she’s got long dark hair…”

Kathleen gave Alicia a look that said she wasn’t impressed. “And she’s his ex-girlfriend. Emphasis on the ex. I presume for reasons.”

Alicia gnawed a fingernail. “Apparently, she cheated.”

Kathleen dusted her hands, dismissing Tressa Lloyd-Hudson. “So, despite her so-called culture and education, she’s an amoral ignoramus.”

“Well, she’s not the only society girl on the tree. I’m sure there are plenty out there just like her who would be plenty faithful.”

Wendy put the iPad on the table. “But he chose you.”

Alicia picked up the ice cream, jabbing at it with the spoon. “He would un-choose me eventually. We’re too different.”

“So, deciding he was going to break up with you, you beat him to it?”

“That was the idea. Rip the Band-Aid off early and fast.” Alicia’s plan didn’t sound so smart, so ironclad now.

Kathleen’s eyebrows lifted. “But if it wasn’t for your fixation on your different backgrounds, would you still want to be with him?”

Alicia put the ice cream carton down again and covered her eyes with one hand. “Yeah. I would.”

Wendy laid a hand on Alicia’s shoulder. “Alicia, you’re so self-sufficient it’s scary. You may be one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. Why does this frighten you so much?”

Kathleen snorted, and one corner of her lip curled up. “She’s a loner, Dottie. A rebel.”

Wendy stared at her. “That was the worst Pee Wee Herman impression I’ve ever heard.”

“But you knew it was Pee Wee. The point remains: Alicia’s not a people person.”

Alicia’s mouth quirked sideways. “I’m that obvious?”

“Either that or I have stunning powers of observation,” Kathleen said, seating herself again and popping a potato chip into her mouth. “Or both.” She snorted and waved her hand at Alicia. “Come on. We practically had to force our friendship on you. But that’s okay. You’ll never be rid of us now.”

“I don’t want to be,” Alicia said, her voice small. It was true. After so many years of sliding in and out of easy, temporary “friendships,” Alicia wanted these two to remain in her life.

Kathleen nodded. “Well, that’s a start. How about getting your man back?”

“He’s not my man, and I wouldn’t even know where to begin. He’s probably over me already.”

“I’ll bet not,” Kathleen said, throwing a handful of popcorn at Alicia.

The idea of trying to call Colin, of admitting that she still wanted him in her life, was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. “I don’t know. I need some time to think about it.”

Wendy patted Alicia’s knee. “Don’t wait forever.”

Chapter 21

Two days later, Alicia came home tired but triumphant. Laura had more than one conversation with “The Suits in L.A.” and had worn them down. Alicia would do the scene in a robe from the expensive hotel where her character was having her assignation with the sexy lobbyist.

A tight band squeezed Alicia’s heart. The actor playing the lobbyist was lean and blond. Attractive, she supposed, but she was still using a mental image of Colin as her connection to the lust and heat she was supposed to feel for the man. Laura had praised Alicia for bringing an “interesting color” to her scenes with him.

Considering how the memories of Colin affected her, Alicia figured between “blue balls” and sadness being “blue,” that “interesting” color Laura referred to was a sexually frustrated, morose shade of indigo.

Flipping up the lid of the mailbox on the wall next to her front door, Alicia retrieved a couple of envelopes and hurried inside. One was addressed to the owner of the apartment, and Alicia placed it on a side table, breathing the air-conditioned cool with relief. The heat was still oppressive outside, though today’s scenes had been mostly interiors. She had yet to shoot the scene at the sculpture garden and she still dreaded going back to the place, inhabited as it was with memories of Colin.

The second envelope was made from substantial, expensive-feeling paper and hand-addressed to her. Turning it over, she expected to see a return address. Nothing. Unease prickled her skin. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but the thick black ink was clear and strong. It looked both old-fashioned and official, and had a Washington, D.C. postmark. Sliding a thumb under the flap, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of costly paper.

Dear Alicia,

I hope the filming is going well. The Post can’t seem to stay away from your show, and I can’t seem to avoid reading those articles. The word “buzz” is tossed about, and I fear I may see yet more pieces that remind me of you. I dread when the episodes begin to air. As much as I want to see you, I don’t think I will be able to watch. It would hurt too much to see you, hear you, not be able to touch you.

I don’t know that there is anything I can say to change your mind, to make you see us the way I see us. All I can do is tell you that I am still here and I still want

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