I forced a smile and waved back. My throat felt as if I’d swallowed a goose egg as I watched them head out the door.
•••
It was after eleven when I stepped onto Matt’s back deck.
He was waiting for me. “Quite a party,” he said, handing me a glass of wine as I settled beside him on the glider.
“Yeah. Gran was still excited when I got home.”
He put his arm around me. It felt so right and warm. I just wanted to stay there forever. My heart constricted in my chest. “What time does your big trial start?”
“At nine in the morning. But I have a staff breakfast at six thirty.”
“You better get to bed, then.”
His hand moved to the back of my neck. “I can think of something that could help me relax.”
My pulse started a familiar tattoo, but my heart was breaking. Tears threatened my eyes. “I’m really tired. And with Gran still awake, and Eddie and Ralph all in the house...”
“I understand.” He stroked my hair. “I’m really looking forward to this weekend.”
I nodded, but my heart felt like a mass of coal. The weekend in New Orleans was a prelude to my move to Chicago. Our time together in Wedding Tree was practically over.
“I can’t wait to get you all alone.” He moved my hair and kissed my neck.
Oh God. How could I go away for a weekend with him? I would only fall more deeply in love, and leaving would be all the harder.
He angled in for a kiss. I found myself holding back—and he must have felt it, too, because he pulled away and caressed my chin. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Just really drained.”
“Go and get some sleep, then.” His finger flitted over my cheek. “I’m staying in Baton Rouge the next two nights, but I’ll be in touch, and I’ll see you Thursday afternoon. This is going to be the best weekend ever.”
I gave my best imitation of a smile, then slipped off the porch and through the hedge, just as the tears I’d been holding back began to fall.
55
hope
TWO DAYS LATER
Chicago was hot, but it was a drier heat than in Louisiana. The wind blew my hair in my face as my friend Courtney and I walked into a coffee shop in Hyde Park.
Courtney had left her husband in charge of her two toddlers and driven in from the suburbs to help me look at condos. “That last place was perfect,” she declared as we waited for the barista to complete our orders. “It had a great view, a balcony, a powder room as well as a full bath, and it was completely renovated. And those wide-planked hardwoods were to die for!”
“Yeah. It was pretty nice.”
“Nice?” Courtney’s eyes widened. “It was perfect!”
And it was. The problem was, I couldn’t get up a head of steam about it.
“The agent said you need to move fast,” Courtney reminded me. “There are five other interested buyers looking at it just today.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So what are you waiting for?” Courtney demanded. “The place is fabulous, and it’s just a block from your work. There’s no way you’re going to find anything better.”
She was probably right. The condo had plaster crown molding,vintage light fixtures, and many of the charming old-fashioned touches I loved, as well as all the modern updates I wanted. But it didn’t have a garden out back with azalea bushes. It didn’t have a swing in the backyard or the front porch. The sounds out of that bay window were of traffic and sirens, not wind rustling through the oaks. There was no screen door that neighbors could yoo-hoo through. The door opened into an overly lit narrow hallway that smelled vaguely of Chinese food.
