“Better late than never,” he said, humming. “It’s genius! That’s the bridge lyric, the one we’ve been trying to nail down all week!”

Now he grabbed the Dobro and started picking. “Better late than never,” he sang in a high, nasal twang. “You never promised me foreverrrrrr.”

He leaned over and kissed Annajane’s nose. “Keep talking, babe. It’s all golden. You’re my muse. Just tell me what’s on your mind, it’s like you’re opening up my creative floodgates here.”

Annajane started over. “One minute we were listening to Journey, and the next minute, Mason was kissing me, and I was kissing him back…”

“Journey? Seriously?” Shane put down the Dobro and frowned. “I’m starting to question your musical judgement.”

“I like Journey,” Annajane said. “Or I did at the time. But that’s really not the point. The point is, my ex kissed me, and I kissed him back.” She sat back and waited for the realization to hit him.

“I see,” Shane said. His face was solemn. “Did you say you’d been drinking?”

“Bourbon,” Annajane confirmed.

“Alcohol can cloud anybody’s judgment,” Shane said. “Sometimes I have a few brews with the guys and the next thing I know, I’m watching old Guns N’ Roses videos on YouTube and shooting squirrels with a BB gun.”

Annajane reached over and gently took the Dobro from her fiancé.

“I don’t think you get what I’m telling you here, Shane,” she said. “I was alone out in the country with Mason. I willingly went with him. Yes, I was drinking a little bourbon, but to be perfectly honest with you—and I do want to be honest with you—I sort of knew he was going to kiss me before it happened. And I didn’t fight him off. In fact, I enjoyed it.”

“Jesus, Annajane.” His face fell, and she felt as though she’d slapped him.

“I know. I feel horrible,” she said. And she did.

Wyley looked from Shane to Annajane. The dog whined and licked Shane’s hand, and Shane scratched his ears absentmindedly.

He looked down at the floor, and then, with hopefulness, at Annajane. “So, it was an of-the-moment kind of thing, right? Not something you’d do again, right?”

“Not if I was thinking rationally,” Annajane said.

“And when you’re thinking rationally?” Shane asked, taking both her hands in his.

“I know it will never work for Mason and me. There were too many issues when we were married before that never got resolved. I’m done with all that.”

“You’re sure? Really?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her pulse was racing, and she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Finally, fighting back tears, she nodded.

“Okay then,” Shane said. He leaned his forehead and rested it against hers. “You had me worried there for a minute, babe, showing up like that, out of the blue.” He kissed her. “It’s forgotten. Right?”

“Riiigghhht,” she said.

As if, she thought.

“I trust you totally,” he told her. “What we have together, it transcends petty jealousy. In a week, you’ll be down here, we’ll be together, and Mason whatshisname will be ancient history.”

And that’s what she wanted to believe. She would have given anything to believe it. But no matter what she did or where she went, she knew Mason would never be history. Not completely.

He stood up, stretched, and yawned. “Wow, I’ve been so busy, I totally forgot to eat today. So, what’s your plan? Wanna get some lunch or something? We’re meeting over at Rob’s house at two for rehearsal, but there’s still time for us to run up to the sandwich joint at the shopping center and grab something before I take off.”

She was staring at Shane now, who was standing there, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, so trusting, so willing to forgive what he considered her minor transgression. She thought of the qualities that had drawn her to him the first time they’d met in Holden Beach.

Shane had no inkling it wasn’t cool to call a girl five minutes after she’d driven away from him, and that was part of his charm. He didn’t care about cool. He cared about her. The next time they met, in Roanoke, he’d gone to a supermarket and bought pink roses and had them delivered to her table in the club where he was playing. And the next time he was in North Carolina, he called, and even though he was playing in a bar halfway across the state, he drove the three hours over and back just to take her to dinner before he had to drive back and play a late-night set.

He sent her sweet, funny e-mails, links to his music and the band’s Web site. He started, but never finished, writing a song called “Annajane in the Morning.” The band was a regional success. Shane made enough money to do what he loved to do—making music, hanging with his friends, traveling around in his van with his dog, and then coming home to his little cabin.

The life was enough for him, she thought, and he was blessed that he thought so. The problem was, she saw now, it wouldn’t be enough for her. Shane wanted her, she knew. But he didn’t really need her. His life was just the right size, just as it was.

She’d been spouting off about honesty—both to Mason and Shane. But if she was being really honest with herself, she knew there was a reason she’d resisted moving in here or setting a date for their wedding.

“Annajane?” Shane was standing at the door, his Dobro in his hand. “Ready to go?”

She covertly twisted the plain ring from her left hand and looked around the room one last time.

“Shane?” He turned to her, and when he saw the somber look on her face, his beautiful, sunny smile clouded over, and then disappeared.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning up against the doorjamb. “You’re never moving in here; we’re never getting married. God. I am so damned dense. That’s what you really came to tell me, wasn’t it?”

“No,” she said, walking toward him. “I mean, I thought I came here to convince myself that you’re what I want. To remind myself how lucky I am to have your love. And I know, I must be the luckiest girl in this state. But as much as I want this to work, I just don’t think it will.”

“We could make it work!” Shane exclaimed. “Once you’re living closer, away from all that drama back in Passcoe, things will be different. We’ll make them different. If you need some time and space, I get that. You can have all of it you want. Just as long as you stay in my life. Okay?” He reached out, took her hand, and kissed it.

“Your ring?” he asked, dropping her hand.

She dug it out of her pocket, put it in his palm, and gently closed his fingers over it. “I messed up my last marriage. Gave up and ran off when things got bad. It was easier to blame him, his mama, my mama, everybody but myself. But now I’ve got to stop running. I’ve got to figure out what I want from life.”

“Mason?” His mouth twisted as he said the name.

“I honestly don’t know,” she said. “He’s got a lot of his own stuff to figure out. Right now, I think I’ll just concentrate on fixing me.”

“You’re fine the way you are,” Shane said.

“No, I’m not,” Annajane said. She picked up her overnight bag and slung it over her shoulder and gave Wyley a final head scratch. “But I’m gonna be.”

24

Farnham-Capheart’s offices were on the seventh floor of a midsized office tower in midtown Atlanta. Annajane parked in the underground garage and took the elevator to the marble-floored lobby. As she passed a small sandwich shop, her growling stomach reminded her of the breakfast and lunch she’d skipped.

A trio of women, dressed in chic dark suits and heels, stepped out of the elevator as she stepped in. She looked down, ruefully, at her own attire: black slacks, a pale pink ruffled cotton blouse, and quilted black ballet flats. When she’d fled Passcoe before dawn that morning, she hadn’t stopped to think about what clothes she’d need. She brushed some dog hair from her slacks, reached in her pocketbook, and brought out a simple pair of pearl earrings and fastened them to her ears.