Cassie rubbed her forehead wearily. “Look, I’m sorry. I am trying, but I just can’t share your and Lillian’s enthusiasm.”
Her mother shot her a frown. “Are you jealous? Because Lillian is two years younger than you and she’s getting married first?”
Once more Cassie’s mouth fell. “Uh, no. I’m not jealous of Lillian.” Not one bit. Except for the unconditional love she inspires in you. Maybe that, a little.
Audrey cocked her head sideways and cast a critical gaze over Cassie. “If you paid more attention to your appearance, I’m sure you could find yourself a husband, too.”
The hefty dose of skepticism in Audrey’s voice caused something to snap in Cassie’s brain.
“Find a husband? Is that the pinnacle of a woman’s existence?”
“Shush. Why are you shouting?”
“I’m not shouting!” Oh crap, I am shouting.
“Keep your voice down. What will the neighbors think?”
“Who frigging cares what they think?”
Lillian ran back into the room. “What’s going on, Mom? Why is Cassie yelling?”
“She’s frustrated because she can’t find a husband.”
Cassie dug her fingernails into her palms. Her head threatened to explode. “For crying out loud! I can’t take this anymore.”
She marched down the hall to her bedroom, plonked herself on the bed, and kneaded her temples, where an almighty headache was brewing. She could hear her mom and sister talking—about her—and they didn’t bother to lower their voices. A few minutes later they both appeared in the doorway.
“Cassie,” her mother began, “your sister and I have been discussing something.”
And she wasn’t going to like it, Cassie surmised by the pinched lines bracketing her mom’s lips.
“My friend Rose Gruzman lives on the floor below me,” Audrey said. “She lives by herself and has plenty of spare space. I’m sure if I asked she’d let you stay with her. Only until the wedding, of course.”
Cassie blinked. “You’re kicking me out?”
“No, I’m not. You don’t have to stay with Mrs. Gruzman if you don’t want to. But, well”—Audrey lifted her narrow shoulders—“it might ease the tensions here if you did.”
“You understand, don’t you?” Lillian shone her baby blue eyes at Cassie in what was supposed to be a winning manner but only wounded Cassie more. “Mom and I, we don’t want to bore you silly with our wedding talk. We’re only thinking of you, really.”
She shouldn’t feel so hurt. After all, only an hour ago she’d been complaining about her family to Kirk, had even contemplated moving out to preserve her sanity. Now, it seemed her mom and sister felt the same way.
“We’ll still want you to come with us to all the appointments, fittings, and rehearsals,” Lillian added. “You’re still my bridesmaid.”
Well, at least her sister still wanted her at the wedding. Probably because her bridesmaid gown was already set and couldn’t be altered in time for someone else. No, that was an unworthy thought. She had to believe her sister still had some feelings for her. Maybe this was for the best, even though it stung.
Without a word, she got to her feet, hauled out her suitcase, and began tossing her belongings into it.
“Should I call Mrs. Gruzman?” Audrey asked.
“No need,” Cassie said. “I’ll move in with a friend. In fact, he already offered.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “He?”
Cassie picked up a sweater and folded it carefully. She’d never told her mother about Kirk Rochester. When she and Kirk had met during her sophomore year, she hadn’t been on speaking terms with her mother, and later, when their relationship had thawed somewhat, she’d still kept silent about her friendship with Kirk.
Because her mom would be all over her like a rash if she knew she was friends with one of the Rochesters. Audrey had been born into a wealthy, well-connected family. She’d been raised as an heiress, with nothing expected of her except to look and act the part. But not long before her twenty-first birthday, her father had lost his fortune to gambling and bad investments. Audrey was no longer a somebody, but she soon married an up-and-coming young lawyer, whom everyone said was going to make partner soon. Unfortunately he died before that could happen, leaving her with two young girls to raise and enough life insurance by most standards but not nearly sufficient to keep the widow in the style to which she was accustomed. Audrey Cooper’s life had been a succession of great expectations followed by great disappointments. She might have been as wealthy and influential as the Rochesters, with the same social carte blanche, but instead she was an interior decorator, working for the socialites who’d once been her contemporaries.
So Cassie wasn’t about to tell her mom she was moving in with Kirk Rochester, the billionaire bachelor of San Francisco, or she’d incur her mother’s all-consuming curiosity and none too subtle prying.
“He’s an old friend from college, Mom,” she said, placing the sweater in the suitcase and then shutting the lid. “The one I had dinner with tonight.”
“Oh.” Audrey pursed her lips. “I hope he won’t expect an invitation to the wedding.”
Cassie suppressed a wry smile. If her mom knew she was talking about Kirk Rochester, she’d hand-deliver a gilded invitation to him on bended knee.
“No, he won’t.”
“Anything going on between you two?” Lillian threw her a coy look.
“No.” Cassie couldn’t help frowning at her sister. “We’re friends. Good friends.”
Nothing had ever happened between her and Kirk…except for that one night two years ago. But that had been a terrible mistake; Kirk hadn’t even realized it was her. No, that night didn’t count. She didn’t even want to remember it.
Lillian shrugged, off-hand, interest waning. “Sure. Remember our nine thirty meeting with the wedding planner at her office tomorrow.” She sauntered off without waiting for a reply.
Audrey wagged her finger. “We have a lot to go through, so don’t be late.”
So neither of them was bothered much that she was moving out. Huh. She wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt.
And Kirk? Would he be surprised when she showed up on his doorstep? She contemplated calling him first but then decided not to. When she’d initially refused his invitation, he’d practically started an argument over it, so she wasn’t going to let him have second thoughts. She had his address from the text message he’d sent her before she’d arrived home. She’d catch a cab to his place and see his reaction when he opened the door. Maybe he’d be overwhelmed with joy. Maybe he’d catch her in his arms and swing her round. Yeah right, and maybe she was too darn optimistic. But it was nice to dream.
…
Kirk prowled around his living room, too wound up to relax or do anything. He’d tried the TV, a book, some music, but nothing could ease the knots in his stomach. Several times he picked up his cell phone, ready to call Cassie, but at the last minute he’d changed his mind.
Earlier, he’d texted his address to her, but now he really needed to talk to her…but didn’t know what he wanted to say. An unusual situation. When had he ever had trouble talking to Cassie? That was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place—that they could talk easily about anything without any undercurrents flowing between them.
The student share house he’d lived in had been mostly occupied by guys. When a room had become available, Emilio, one of his housemates, had suggested Cassie would be a good fit. According to Emilio, Cassie was cool because she wasn’t a girly girl. She wouldn’t bitch about cleanliness, or hog the bathroom, or force them to watch The Bachelor. And then she’d shown up, six-foot tall with cropped, blue hair, a nose stud, and long legs clad in baggy jeans, looking all tough and rebellious but with the sweetest smile and a hint of shyness. She talked about sports, she drank beer, she played hockey like a demon. She was “one of the guys,” but a guy with a tender, feminine side, and that was how Kirk had treated her.
Now, though he wasn’t quite sure how, he’d offended her during dinner tonight. He should apologize, but for what? Until he figured that out, he couldn’t call her. And until he called her, he couldn’t settle.
He loped into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of mineral water from the fridge. He was about to open it when his doorbell rang. His heart did a quick jump. Was this Cassie? Who else could it be at eleven o’clock on a Sunday night?
He abandoned the bottle of water, ran downstairs to the front door, and then wrenched it open.
A woman in a trench coat and red stilettos posed on his porch. Her fire-engine-red lips spread into a wide smirk at his appearance.
“Shawna?” Kirk groaned inwardly.
“Hi, Kirk,” she purred. A bottle of champagne dangled from her red-tipped fingers. “Glad I caught you in.”
“What are you doing here?” Irritation burst through him and he folded his arms across his chest.
“I thought you could do with some company.” She angled forward, tossing back her hair, her voice artificially breathy.