In between listening to Allie making calls, Monica set up her new phone and synced it, discovering she had twenty-three voice-mail messages.

She deleted all six of Allie’s automatically. No need to put herself through that. She deleted Ryan’s messages as well. One from Cal, apologizing, asking if she liked the phone. As arrogant and cocky as he was, he had a side of him that liked to be reassured. It was sweet and unexpected.

Everything about Cal was unexpected. Like this morning. His anger had sprung out of nowhere, but he was furious that she was living in a virtually unfurnished, blank house. He’d said she needed color and pillows and curtains. He was right. She’d been living like a guest in her own house for months, but she didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. She wasn’t even sure she liked that house.

Allie glanced over, her eyes focusing on the gift bag. “Who’s that from?”

“Cal sent it to me.”

Allie’s full lips rolled inward. “So is this serious? This thing with Cal?”

Monica shrugged. “We’re hanging out.” This morning hadn’t been fun. It had been powerful and intense, like a thunderstorm—all sound and fury, leaving a flood of emotional destruction in its wake.

“I wasn’t sure about him at first,” Allie said, “but I like him. He’s sweet with Jules, and he’s been letting the twins help him fix the Mustang. He’s very patient.”

“We’re not serious.” Monica’s stomach clenched. She wished things were different with Cal, but she couldn’t expect him to turn into someone else, someone who stuck around. That wasn’t fair.

“I just worry.”

“You don’t need to, Al. I’m a grown woman.”

“Listen, I know I come off all nosy—”

“And bossy,” Monica added.

“But—”

“And condescending.”

Allie narrowed her eyes. “It’s only because I love you and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She leaned back in her chair. “You have the worst taste in men. Except for Ryan, of course.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Al. Ryan was the wrong choice for me. We would have been miserable.” Monica knew it was true, had known it all along, but she’d kept trying to make him fit, like a too-tight designer shoe from the sale rack.

“What was so wrong about him?” Allie tilted her head to one side. “He had his shit together. A job. A life. He wanted to marry you.”

Monica stroked the pink phone with her thumb. “He didn’t mind that I wear gray pantsuits.”

Allie’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s get back to work.”

At one thirty, Allie called it quits. She stood and grabbed her purse. “I’m so sorry, Mon, but this is a bust. We did everything we could.”

Monica rose from her desk. “We haven’t exhausted every possibility. We need to look for offbeat places. Can Trevor call in a few favors?”

“I’ll ask, but I think you need to face the fact that it’s over. We’ll try it again next year.”

There had to be one place in Vegas still available. “I’m not giving up.”

Allie walked to the door. “Your time would be better spent figuring out new projections for next year’s goals. There’s going to be a hell of a lot less money to work with.”

After Allie left, Monica snarled at her computer. More projections, more numbers and spreadsheets. It made her head pound that much harder.

She needed to call Cal, thank him for the phone, but she was reluctant to talk to him just yet. Her anger had faded, but she was hurt by his accusations. Monica did the best she could to prove to Allie and the rest of her family that she’d changed. Why was that so hard for him to understand?

As she worked up the courage to call him, her phone buzzed. Ryan again. Grabbing her purse and her new pink phone, she walked to the outer office and stood next to Stella’s desk, waiting as the older woman wrapped up her call.

Stella hung up and shook her head. “I’ve crapped out. Not a place in town that’s available on the date we need. So what’s next?”

“We brainstorm. I need to run an errand, but I’ll be back in an hour. Hold down the fort?”

“You may have to admit defeat on this one, kid.”

“I may. But not yet.”

Monica had a ton of work to do, but she couldn’t put off Ryan any longer. It was time to cut ties, once and for all. She couldn’t accuse Cal of not confronting life head-on and then be afraid to do it herself.

As Monica drove, Cal’s words about hiding kept coming back to her. Hiding what, her racy underwear? That was just something she indulged in. It made her feel good, but it wasn’t an insight into her psyche.

Cal didn’t know her, not really. They’d been hooking up for a few weeks—that didn’t make him an expert on all things Monica. Evan agrees with him. Well, Evan dated bimbos, so he wasn’t the most reliable source of advice.

She pulled her car into Ryan’s driveway and closed her eyes. She hated to go through this again. It had been hard enough the first time, seeing the disappointment and understanding in his eyes. She felt cruel, but she couldn’t let him continue to hope. Rock, meet hard place.

Getting out of the car, Monica walked to the house and rang the bell. She heard uneven thumping on the other side of the door. Ryan’s crutches.

When he saw her, his face lit up in pleasure. “Hey, what are you doing here?” He leaned forward to kiss her, and she swiftly gave him her cheek. He thumped awkwardly backward, allowing her to enter the house.

The place looked as neat and tidy as ever, and his laptop sat open on the coffee table. “Have you been working?”

“Oh, yeah. Quarterly taxes.”

Monica gripped her purse strap. “Where’s your nurse?”

“I sent her home after the first day.”

“Then how have you been getting along?” Now she felt terrible. She should have called more often, made sure he had everything he needed.

“Hey, don’t worry.” His gaze scanned her face. “I’ve been fine. I can manage getting around, and I’ve had my groceries delivered. I’m good.” He grinned, all handsome and perfect and blond.

Hobbling over to the couch, Ryan dropped onto it with a wince. Monica grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his leg. “When was the last time you took a pain pill?”

“I don’t need one.” He grabbed her hand. “I’m fine. Sit down and talk to me.”

“Ryan.”

His grin slowly faded. “You’re not here to check up on me, are you?”

Monica forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“So, it’s really over. You and Cal, you’re together?”

Monica’s hand lifted to the top button on her blouse. “It’s… Who knows?”

“I thought if I gave you enough time, you’d miss what we had. That you wouldn’t feel so panicked and get that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” Monica frowned and dropped her hand.

He patted the sofa next to him. “Sit down for a minute.”

Monica hesitated, then sat, perching next to him. “What look?”

“When I’d talk about the future, your eyes would start racing around the room, like you were looking for the nearest exit. I thought you were just wary, but that’s not it, is it?”

Oh God, he’d nailed it. Every time Ryan had talked about moving in together or getting married, Monica wanted to change the subject. Was her reaction specific to Ryan, or did she feel that way about commitment in general? What if Cal started talking about the future?

Stupid question. Cal didn’t make plans. He was a live-in-the-moment kind of guy.

“Did you ever love me?” Ryan asked. He didn’t wait for her to answer before he spoke again. “I thought you just didn’t like to say the words, the same way you never talk about your mother. The same way you never talk about the frustrations with your job or the fact that you’re so hard on yourself.”

All of it was true. Yet Monica talked about those things with Cal. She opened up to him in ways she never had with anyone. Not even Evan. She felt safe with Cal. She could show him all of herself, and he didn’t judge her for it. Except this morning. He’d judged the hell out of her then.