“I can drive myself,” she says sharply.
Christ, she’s stubborn. No wonder why she and Gigi get along so well. “The estate is hard to find,” I tell her patiently. “The car will make it easier.” Also, it’ll give my security team advance warning, but I don’t say that part. “Please, Katie. She needs this. She needsyou.”
I can hear her breathing on the other end and can practically feel her internal debate. “Fine. Tomorrow at two. But if this is some kind of game?—”
“It’s not a game. It’s me trying to give my wife something she wants.” I end the call before she can argue further.
Gigi appears in the doorway, wearing one of my t-shirts and looking sleepy and rumpled and absolutely perfect. “Who was that?” she asks groggily.
“Katie,” I tell her, watching with amusement as she startles, her eyes growing wide. “And she’s coming tomorrow at two.” I get up and pull her into my arms. “I figured you’d want time to prepare and figure out what you want to say to her.”
She’s trembling and crying again. But when she pulls back, she’s smiling through her tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Anything for you,cara. Always.”
The next day, I’m more nervous than I have any right to be.
Gigi has changed outfits three times, practiced what she’s going to say at least a dozen times, and is currently pacing the living room like a caged animal.
“She’s going to hate me,” Gigi says, wringing her hands. “She probably thought I was dead or being held hostage or?—”
“She’s going to be relieved to see you alive.” I catch her mid-pace, pulling her against my chest. “And then she’s going to be angry that you worried her. And then you two will work it out because that’s what friends do.”
Gigi bites her lip, and it takes everything in me to not kiss it away. “What if she can’t forgive me?” she whispers, burying her face into my shoulder.
“Then we’ll deal with it.” I tilt her face up to look at me. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen. From what you’ve told me about Katie, she loves you too much to let this end your friendship.”
The security call comes at exactly 2:00 p.m. Katie’s car has arrived at the gate.
Gigi’s hand tightens in mine. “I can’t breathe.”
I squeeze her palm. “Yes, you can. In and out. There you go.” I guide her through a few deep breaths. “You’ve survived being shot, Gigi. You can survive seeing your best friend.”
She glares at me, her eyes narrowing, “That’snotcomforting.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t meant to be comforting. It was meant to be perspective.”
She laughs despite her nerves, and the doorbell rings.
Flora answers it. I hear her voice in the foyer and can hear Katie’s terse responses. Then footsteps, and Katie Carmichael appears in the doorway.
She’s shorter than I expected, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that’s seen better days. Her brown eyes are assessing, taking in the room, me, and finally landing on Gigi.
For a moment, nobody moves.
Then Katie’s face crumples. “Gigi?”
“Katie.” Gigi’s voice breaks.
They crash together in the middle of the room, both crying, both talking over each other, both holding on like they’re afraid the other might disappear.
I step back to give them space. This is their moment, not mine.
“I thought you weredead,” Katie is saying through her sobs. “I thought he killed you. I went to the police, but they said there was nothing they could do without evidence and I?—”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you?—”
Katie grasps Gigi’s arms and looks her up and down. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Gigi, tell me the truth.”
