“You haven’t looked twice at a guy in a long time. Not since Chase.”
“Yeah, and look where that got me.”Fucking cheater.
Not that she’d felt more than a twinge of hurt or jealousy when a last-minute cancellation at work sent her home to Jeopardy for a friend’s bridal shower, only to find Chase in the backseat of his truck behind the community center with his head between Chelsea Driscoll’s legs. It had been the excuse she’d needed to break it off with him.
And seeing him at Christmas just gave her one more reason not to go home. Talk about awkward. Walt and his wife, Lydia, still treated him like a member of the family. Hell, they seemed to love him more than her. They’d even put out his stocking.
She shut out thoughts of Chase and her family. Brooke was the only family she needed.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you unpack?” She cracked a cheesy smile. “I’m free, nothing to do on this beautiful Friday afternoon.”
Brooke’s cheeks flushed a fiery red. “Thanks, but Aaron’s planning a picnic in front of the fireplace.”
“And you’re dessert?”
“Something like that.”
“Here.” Jo handed her a box of pastries. He really was sweet. “Lemon cream should be fun. His favorite. He can lick it off—”
“I get the picture.” Grinning, Brooke started for the door. As she slipped into her raincoat, she scanned the living room, then her gaze settled on Jo, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m— This is—”
“I know.” Jo swallowed the lump in her throat as grief tightened her chest.
Reaching for Brooke, Jo pulled her in for a hug, and they clung to each other for a long moment. Brooke was a part of her, the glue that held her together, and vice versa. But Aaron would be Brooke’s glue now.
Jo’s throat burned as she let go. “Call me when you get there.”
Brooke sniffed and wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “I won’t need to because you’ll be tracking me all the way on Miles to Go.”
Jo smiled and opened the door. “You know me so well.”
“I do.” Shouldering her purse, Brooke lifted a brow. “That’s why I think you should call Avery Preston.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No.” The grin on Brooke’s face corroborated her determination. “Think of it as another of life’s great sacrifices.A date or two with that asshole might cover the cost of your beloved mixer.”
Sacrifice was an understatement. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. ’Cause you’re smart as hell and made of steel. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Yeah, yeah, get outta here.”
Brooke tucked her umbrella under her arm. “See you in the morning.”
“See ya.” Jo watched her until the dark stairwell swallowed her up, then closed the door and leaned against it. The hallway looked empty without Brooke’s cardigan on the coat rack.
Jo forced her feet forward into the living room. Everything looked the same as it had a few minutes ago—Brooke had taken nothing with her—but somehow, it felt as empty as the hall. And quiet, except for the rain pelting the windows, which only made the silence seem mournful.
“Come on, Jo, you got this.” She’d pretend Brooke was at work or just out for a while. Until she got used to being alone. And it wasn’t like she’d never see her again. They were meeting at the diner tomorrow for waffles for their usual Saturday morning brunch.
A knock pounded behind her. She hurried to open it, swinging it wide. “What did you forget?”
The sour smell of alcohol enveloped her before she realized it wasn’t Brooke returning and recognized the apartment manager.
She clutched the neck of her hoodie. “Mr. Lambert?”
His bloodshot eyes roamed over her, their whites gone yellow as if his beer gut was proof enough of his liver disease. He stepped forward. “Came to give you this.”
