We had something. I know we did.
“I do have to get to work,” I tell Lorelei, which is yet another lie.
I’m not going to work.
I’m flying to New York.
“You don’t want to hear details about the party last night?”
“We’ll catch up this weekend.”
“I might forget a lot by then.”
I blow out a breath.
My sister rarely frustrates me, but I have a plane to catch. “I’ll make a list of questions and send them to you so you remember.”
“Dane, before you go . . .”
My heart stutters. Does she have something to tell me about Amanda? “Yeah?”
“Thank you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say thank you enough, butthank you. I really like Kimberly so far, and I can’t even tell you how excited I am to get to bake all day, and this wouldn’t have happened without everything you did last week. And I know how big of a risk it was. And I know it had to be hard in a lot of ways too. I’m joking about the statue. I am. But I will forever be so, so grateful for what you and Amanda did for Tinsel and our families and for me. Expect the best Christmas presents ever from now through eternity from me, okay?”
Fuck. My vision is going cloudy and my throat is getting thick. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You pulled off a miracle and changed everything for the better. I won’t be the only one getting you the best Christmas presents.”
“Gotta go, Lorelei.”
“I know. You hate the mushy stuff. Love you. And thank you.”
We hang up. I finish tossing the last few items into my suitcase, zip it up, and then grab Chili’s leash. “About time to call a ride. You ready?” I say to him.
He grunts and lumbers to his feet.
“If all goes well, this time tomorrow, you could be getting walked around Manhattan by Amanda. With new friends. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
He gives me the look ofif you didn’t fuck it all up already, dumbass.
Yep.
I’m projecting.
Because that look doesn’t usually come with a little tail wag and a happy pant, which is actually what he does when I say Amanda’s name again.
We head through my condo to the front door, Chili moping along while I pull my suitcase.
And when I open the door to step out into the hallway, I find myself facing a mirage.
Has to be.
There’s no way Amanda’s standing at my doorway, arm raised like she was about to knock.
Her mouth forms an O, then morphs into a smile.
A very hesitant smile.
“Hi,” the mirage says.
