A Sip of You(43)

The driver must have noticed my clothes, because as soon as I told him the address he said, “Where’d you fly in from?”

“California.”

“Warmer there, I guess. You hear about the snowstorm?”

“No.”

The driver was more than happy to rattle on about the coming Snowmageddon. One thing about Chicagoans: they loved to talk about predicted blizzards and past blizzards. By the time we arrived at my condo in Lincoln Park, I knew more than most weathermen about the coming storm. I paid the driver and headed upstairs. I’d seen my light on when we pulled up, so I knew Beckett was here. I was glad. I didn’t want to be alone.

I opened the door and called, “Hello?”

Laird was the first to greet me, running full tilt, tail wagging furiously. I dropped my bags and gave him a hug, getting doggie slobber all over my face in the process.

Beckett raced to the door from the direction of the kitchen. I could smell something delicious baking. “Cat? Oh my God. You really came home.”

“Sorry. I should have texted.” I’d been too busy checking for texts from William. Still nothing. Tears filled my eyes, and Beckett’s brows rose.

“I gather these tears aren’t because you didn’t text.”

I shook my head.

Beckett pulled me to my feet. “Come on. I have chocolate.”

He wasn’t kidding. He’d obviously been on a baking rampage. I couldn’t even see my counter for all the muffins, cupcakes, cookies, and tarts covering it. He heaped a plate with samples, poured me a glass of milk, and sat me down at the table. “Spill it.” He nodded at the desserts. “And take your medicine.”

I laughed, then I started crying again. It came in fits and starts, but I told Beckett most of what happened at Casa di Rosabela while he listened and compulsively checked on his creation currently in the oven.

“So how’d you get to the airport then, after you ditched the bald guy? Did you take a cab or rent a car? God, please tell me you didn’t hitchhike. That would give both me and William heart attacks.”

I took a deep breath. I knew I had to tell him. “I ran into Jeremy.”

“What?” Beckett asked. He spun around and stared at me, looking shocked and horrified at the same time. “You have to be shitting me. Jeremy as in Jeremy Ryder? Your weasely once brother-in-law?”

“Yep, the one and the same.”

Beckett took a seat at the breakfast bar. “No eff’ing way. I can’t believe it. The stars really aligned for you, didn’t they? I mean, what are the chances?” He was in shock and a part of me still couldn’t believe it either.

“I went in to this coffee shop and he walked in a few minutes later. He’s a lawyer now.”

“Working for his asshole father?” Beckett interrupted.

“Exactly,” I continued. “He said he was up there seeing a client. We sat and talked for little while. My security thug was never going to let me out of his sight and William was gone wherever, and I just wanted to come home. Jeremy was leaving to go back to the city, so I asked him for a ride and he said yes.”

“Fucking Jeremy Ryder,” Beckett said when I’d finished. “What’s that line about gin joints?” He gave me his best Humphrey Bogart look. “Of all the coffee houses in all the world, he has to walk into yours.”

“Beckett, stick to cooking. Your impressions suck.”

“Now that’s the Cat I know,” he laughed. “Any other great revelations or was that it?”

“Pretty much. It was weird, but okay I guess.” I’d tell Beckett about what Jeremy said at the airport tomorrow. I was too tired to talk anymore but I added, “It made me miss Jace.”

Beckett got up, walked around the breakfast bar, and pulled me into a big bear hug. He kissed the top of my head as he held me. “I know how much you miss him, Cat, and it must have been hell to see Jeremy.”

“Yeah, it was,” I whispered as Beckett kept hugging me.

“It’s really snowing out there now. Mind if I stay over again?”

“No, but I don’t know where the sheets are for the guest bed.”

He raised his brows seductively. “Honey, I haven’t been sleeping in the guest bed and I’m not starting tonight. That room’s a mess, by the way. Guess that means we’ll have to share your bed. William had better watch out.”

I laughed and left Beckett to clean up mixing bowls, muffin pans, and cookie sheets while I took a shower and threw on my warmest flannel pajamas. I checked my phone one last time; still nothing. I turned it off.

I felt a lot better when I climbed into bed with Beckett and Laird. The shower and comfortable clothes helped, but Beckett was also a salve. He always made me laugh, and he was the most loyal friend I had. I could trust him implicitly.