“What’s this?” Rhiannon peered at the ESPN article.
“I remember hearing about Big Joe Lima’s death a few months ago. That’s his uncle, Rhi.”
Rhiannon skimmed the article, each word increasing her sense of foreboding.Long battle... ALS and Parkinson’s... chronic illness... brain donated to the Concussion Research Alliance... survived by his nephew...
The short bio ended with the date of death. Rhiannon compared it to her mental calendar. “His uncle died a few days after we were supposed to meet.”
“That would probably be what he was talking about.”
A sick feeling descended on Rhiannon, and she put her phone down. Underneath that sickness, there was another feeling, one she couldn’t quite identify. “Probably.”
Katrina’s smile was pained. “Rhi.”
“Don’t say it.” She could see it, the slight hopeful look in her friend’s eyes, and she didn’t want that hope to infect her.
“What do you think I’m going to say?”
Unlike Rhiannon, Katrina was a soft romantic, though she hadn’t dated anyone in years. She couldn’t go out to too many public places where she didn’t fear a panic attack. “That he had a valid reason for not showing up that night.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a valid reason, but it seems like extenuating circumstances.”
Rhiannon pulled her sleeves down so she could stick her thumbs through the thumbholes. These were her favorite kinds of sweatshirts, the ones with the long sleeves so she could cover her palms. They hugged her best.
Katrina cocked her head. “Could he have reasonably gotten ahold of you to explain he’d had an emergency sometime between standing you up and the conference?”
She’d unmatched him on the app, she never gave anyone her real number. Plus, the fake name and all. “No,” she said grudgingly, that sick feeling growing.
“Did he try to talk to you at the conference? I mean, when you weren’t being recorded.”
He’dchasedher in that ballroom. “Kinda.”
Katrina tapped her fingers on the counter. The silence stretched between them and Rhiannon finally made a frustrated noise. “Say what you want to say.”
“I was only thinking... ninety-nine percent of the time, immediate block for ghosting, right? This might be the .01 percent time when a ghoster wasn’t being a total cowardly dog.”
Rhiannon folded her arms, then unfolded them. She thought of how tender Samson’s hands had been on her skin. When he’d pushed inside her, he’d leaned down andwhispered in her ear.It’s been so long since I’ve done this. Tell me if it’s good for you. “So? So what?”
“So he hurt you when he ghosted you. Doesn’t it bring you some closure to know it wasn’t about you at all?”
“He didn’t hurt me,” Rhiannon snapped, even though she knew the snap was unfair.
Katrina’s eyes softened. “Of course.”
“I am not easy to hurt. I am a stone cold bitch when it comes to men. No rose-colored glasses here.”
Katrina toyed with her phone. “Rhiannon... you’re not that much of a cynic. I think you’re actually kind of a romantic.”
Rhiannon gasped, like her best friend had stabbed her. “You shut your beautiful perfect mouth.”
Katrina did not shut her delightful mouth. Oh no, she kept going. “You watch holiday movies every year. You try to hide it, but I see you crying.”
“Find me the empty soul who doesn’t get emotional overWhile You Were Sleeping.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “You send gifts to everyone who sends their success story in to Crush. Wedding and engagement and civil union and housewarming and baby gifts.”
“I sendbrandedgifts. I want that kid to be sucking on their Crush rattle from birth, damn it, so it knows from whence it came. That’s business. It’s almost automated.”
Anyone else might be intimidated by her rising voice, but Katrina wasn’t anyone else. She cleared her throat. “Is it business to send a personalized note of congratulations with the gift?”
