Aiden laughs. “You most definitely do, Lori.”

  “And you let me sit through this whole pep talk without mentioning it once?”

  “Why? Chocolate looks really cute on you.”

  Playfully outraged, I ask, “You think Jace would agree?”

  Aiden nods, satisfied.

  “I’m still washing my face before I go put him out of his misery.”

  “That’s a shame.” He gets up from the couch and opens his arms. “Can I have a hug?”

  “Yeah, you can.”

  I take his hand and he pulls me into a warm embrace.

  Fear has been simmering in my insides for the past few weeks, and now, in Aiden’s arms after his stupid, soppy, sweet pep talk, it evaporates.

  “I’m sorry I tried to make you jealous by using Jace,” I whisper. “It was silly, and it didn’t even work. You were never jealous of us and you really are the best of friends.”

  “And I get accused of being the soppy puppy. Enough with the schmaltzy fest.” Aiden puts a finger under my chin and lifts my head up. “Now go and make up with your boyfriend. I’m gonna go home and spend some time with my bride-to-be.”

  I smile at Aiden’s overly casual tone. “Yes, Jace and I, we’re really together now. Or at least we will be after I sort this whole mess out. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Aiden draws away, smiling. He slings one arm over my shoulder, grabbing his coat as we go.

  I open the door and we pause on the doorstep to say goodbye.

  “Lori,” Aiden says, giving me an uncharacteristically serious look. “You deserve to be happy. And Jace is a lucky guy.”

  “I’m really happy for you, too, Aiden, Kirsten is…” I don’t really know what to say.

  Aiden pushes a finger to my lips to silence me. “Get to know her better before you decide. I promise, if you give her a real chance, you’re going to like her.”

  I can’t deny I’ve been prejudiced against Kirsten from the moment Aiden announced she was his new girlfriend. But now that we’re no longer rivals, I don’t see why we couldn’t become friends… in time… we’ll see…

  Aiden drops his hand away from my mouth, and I say, “I will.”

  “Thanks.” Aiden bends down and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “Now go to your guy. I think he’s still alone with his booze and Cheetos.”

  “Will do.” I reach a hand up to cup his cheek. “Thanks, Aiden.”

  “Don’t thank me.” He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I really did nothing. Goodnight, Lori.”

  “Night, Aidenberry.”

  I watch him go, unable to wipe a silly smile from my face. I’m in love with Jace, and he loves me back. I can’t wait to tell him…

  31

  JACE

  I step out of my building and walk. I walk and walk and walk until I can’t feel my hands in the cold and my feet go numb. Unconsciously—or very consciously—I head north toward her house. Chicago is unforgiving around me, bleak in the dead of night with the February wind working its icy fingers under my coat, against my face, while a clammy humidity dampens my clothes.

  I welcome the discomfort. I’ve earned it. I let my thoughts run free with no intention of stopping them because I don’t deserve peace of mind.

  So I walk.

  My eyes ache from the cold. And I walk.

  I see a group of men walking down the street and I step aside. Luckily, they pass without incident.

  They look like they are heading to a bar. Probably to drown their sorrows in alcohol and oblivion. I envy them. They are the lucky ones. They don’t have to live with the knowledge they’ve harmed someone they care about.

  I walk.

  I walk until I’m at her house and then I stop dead in my tracks. Aiden’s car is parked across the street from Lori’s loft.

  What is he doing here? Why did he come to see her?

  It might be innocent, I tell myself. He’s come to help me out, plead my case with her.

  But then the devil of jealousy, the one that’s been rotting and festering in my guts for the past fifteen years, hisses a warning in my ear, “Or he’s here to finally make her his. You told him all he needed to know.”

  No. Aiden wouldn’t. He said he was in love with Kirsten, and that he was glad Lori was only a friend.

  “People lie,” the devil whispers. “How many times have you lied to him… to her… It’s only fitting they’d get their happily ever after now… after another lie.”

  I stay rooted on the spot, on the curb opposite Lori’s house.

  Without moving, the cold gets even worse. If I stay here long enough, I’m going to get frostbite. A suitable punishment alongside the fact I’ll have to live knowing I’ve lost everything.

  The devil’s whispers are getting unbearable, and my thoughts are unrelenting. I can’t block them out anymore. I can’t deny the truth. I lied. And I deserve to lose everything.

  I killed love.

  I killed the only thing that ever really mattered.

  I deserve all her anger and her hate.

  I deserve to be alone and miserable.

  I deserve the cold.

  The minutes trickle by and still, Aiden doesn’t come out. Are they together right now? Finally unleashing years of unrequited passion?

  No, he wouldn’t. Aiden is a decent man—contrary to me. If he wanted to be with Lori, he’d break it off with Kirsten first. I know him.

  I keep my eyes glued to the door, willing him to come out. The city around me is silent with an indifference that befits a night like this one. The cold makes me shiver. A splitting headache is building at my temples. I haven’t eaten and I’m running on an empty stomach and vodka fumes. All I want is to lie down and sleep… to sleep and forget everything.

  I try to move, to go back home, but I can’t. Maybe I’m frozen stiff. The blood has frozen in my veins, and I’m paralyzed.

  I don’t know how long I stand hiding in the shadows of the streetlight. The perfect lurking spot. If she comes to the door, she won’t be able to see me.

  The cold doesn’t seem to get any worse. Maybe it’s not the cold at all, maybe it’s my own heart. I’m so numb I can’t tell the difference.

  The door to her house finally opens, and Aiden steps out. I lean further into the shadows as I watch them.

  Aiden is talking, his face serious, committed. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he sure looks like a lover promising to go home to dump his fiancée. Lori is saying something back, but Aiden silences her, pressing a finger on her mouth.

  The gesture makes my blood sizzle. It’s too intimate, too familiar for any old friends. He shouldn’t touch her like that…

  Aiden and Lori aren’t just friends. They’re more. I clench my hands into fists but stay put in my shadowy corner.

  Aiden removes the finger from her lips and she says something, then he bends down to kiss her. From the distance, I can’t tell where he’s kissing her. On the lips or on the cheek? I can only sigh with relief that the kiss is brief. At least until Lori reaches a hand up to cup his cheek. He leans into the touch and then kisses her hand.

  Not that I needed any more proof of their new status, but it still hurts worse than I could ever imagine.

  Then he finally leaves.

  I don’t follow his progress across the street. My eyes stay glued to Lori, to the doting expression on her face as she watches him go.

  That’s the face of a woman in love. Only not with me.

  It’s never been about me.

  32

  LORI

  By the time I get to Jace’s building, it’s already past midnight. I wanted to take a shower, get dressed, and leave the house. But then, as I blow-dried my hair in front of the mirror, I told myself, well, if I’m about to live my big romantic moment, I might as well do it in style and give my hair a shape. Makeup came next. And then a wardrobe crisis.

  How do you choose a dress for a you’re-the-love-of-my-life declaration?

  In the end, I opted for a sensible, winter-in-Chicago black wool skirt, a long-sleeved dark green sweater, and black calf-high boots. I hope Jace will like the outfit. Or even better, hate it and rip it off me.

  The guest parking spots in the garage are taken, so I search for street parking, and finally get out of the car, pulling the faux fur-lined hood of my jacket over my head against the icy night wind.

  With my coat zipped up to my chin, my heels click loudly against the concrete as I cross the street.

  I take a deep breath before pushing open the door to his building.

  “Good evening, Dr. Archibald,” the night doorman greets me.

  “Night, Denzel, could you tell Dr. Barlow I’m here to see him?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Dr. Barlow left a while ago and hasn’t come back yet.”

  My bright smile falters and I lose most of my momentum. Frazzled nerves take over. Already, coming here, wearing my heart on my sleeve, hasn’t been easy, but having to wait after all the anticipation is nerve-wracking.

  “Are you sure he’s gone, ’cause I saw his car in the garage.”

  “Yes, Dr. Barlow left on foot.”

  “How long ago?”

  Denzel checks his watch, raising his eyebrows. “A couple of hours, actually.”

  Oh my gosh, I broke him. Jace went out in the freezing cold because of me. Because of the horrible things I’ve said to him. And Aiden said he’d been drinking. What if something happened to him?

  Denzel must read the worry on my face because he says, “I’m sure Dr. Barlow is fine.”

  I fish my phone out of my bag and call him. The line goes straight to voicemail.

  A thick lump grows in my throat. “Do you mind if I wait for him in the lobby, Denzel?”

  “No need, Dr. Archibald. I’m allowed to let you into Dr. Barlow’s apartment at any time; he left us a spare key. So you can wait for him upstairs.”

  “Thank you, Denzel.”

  I enter Jace’s apartment, feeling weird standing in the crime scene by myself. I hang my coat in the closet behind the door and remove my shoes before walking into the living room.

  The house still smells of coffee. Aiden was here not long ago. I collect the two empty mugs from the coffee table and the bag of Cheetos from the floor. The bottle of vodka Aiden told me about is still in the sink, now almost entirely empty. Did the liquor leak out or did Jace drink more? I empty the rest of the bottle in the sink and put it in the glass recycling bin. Next, I wash the sticky glass Jace must’ve used to drink the vodka, the mugs, and wipe the coffee table in the living room.

  There’s nothing else to do. The rest of the house is as pristine as always.

  I check the time again, past 1 a.m.

  I try Jace’s number one more time, knowing he won’t pick up. He doesn’t. I get sent to voicemail.

  Worry wrings my stomach into tight knots. I pace the living room aimlessly, then sit on the couch, then get up and pace again, my mind racing with what-ifs. What if something happened to him? What if he’s hurt?

  He’s hurting. I did that myself, but what if he got mugged, hit by a car, or thrown in jail for public intoxication?

  I call the police to inquire about any accidents or arrests. Nothing. I try all the major hospitals in the city next, and still come out empty-handed.

  Jace isn’t in jail or at the hospital. But even if he’s still just walking, it’s so cold outside, he’ll catch his death.

  I try calling him again, to leave him a message, but as the beep sounds, I can’t get the words out of my mouth. I can’t tell him I love him over a voicemail message.

  My broken heart is squeezing so hard it might just stop beating. I want to run out of the apartment and search for him. Find him and hold him in my arms until he’s warm again. Tell him how sorry I am.

  Instead, I walk into his bedroom. I drop onto the bed and inhale his scent on the pillow.

  The mattress is so soft, and Jace’s scent is so familiar, so reassuring… I close my eyes just for a second…

  When I open them again, light filters in through the blinds, and I’m still alone in Jace’s bed.

  I jolt awake with an electric shock.

  What time is it?

  I reach for my phone and see it’s already 7 a.m.

  Darn it.

  My heart sinks.

  Jace, where are you?

  I try his number again—voicemail. The police. The hospitals.

  Nothing.

  I call Aiden next.

  “Lori, hi,” he picks up, sounding surprised—to hear from me this early, presumably.

  “Have you heard from Jace?”

  “Ah, yes.” My racing heart slows down to a slightly less tachycardic tempo. Jace is alive. He’s okay. “He sent me a weird text message last night, but I read it only this morning.”

  “Can you forward it to me?”

  “Sure, just a sec.”

  I chew on a nail while I wait for the text to arrive. When my phone pings, I quickly switch apps and read the message with my heart in my throat.

  From Aiden:

  Fwd: Man, I can’t make it to the office tomorrow. Or all of this week. Please cover for me. I’ll see you at the wedding on Tuesday. If you’re still getting married?

  I read the text again, then bring the phone back to my ear.

  “What does he mean, if you’re still getting married?”

  “The hell if I know.”

  “Have you texted him back?”

  “Yes, but the messages still appear undelivered. I called him, but his phone was off.”

  “Yeah, same here. What do you make of this?”

  “You told him you wanted nothing to do with him, and he’s disappeared off the face of the Earth to avoid dealing with his broken heart.”

  I chew on more nails. “Okay, but why ask you if you’re still getting married?”

  “That, I’ve no explanation for.” A voice calls his name in the background, presumably Kirsten. “Listen, I was about to grab breakfast. Talk later at the office?”

  “Sure, thanks, Aiden.”

  We hang up, and I stare around Jace’s bedroom, undecided on how to proceed. My eyes fall on a smear of black mascara on his otherwise pristine white pillow. The stain makes me equally sorry and satisfied. On the one hand, I regret saying those awful things to him last night. I was merciless. But I was so angry. On the other hand, is this how he’ll react whenever life gets tough? By running away? He kind of deserves his pillow to be tainted by my tears and melted makeup.

  This brings me to the next practical aspects of starting my day: fixing my face and going to work. If Aiden and I have to cover Jace’s patients while he’s gone, it’ll be a hell of a week. Especially since Aiden will be busy with the last pre-wedding arrangements, which means most of the extra work will fall on me.

  I move into Jace’s bathroom and check the trainwreck of my face in the mirror. Not good. A rabid raccoon would look more reassuring.

  I turn on the faucet and try to wash the hurt away. Of course, that only worsens the mascara damage, spreading a blackish tint all over my features.

  I never brought toiletries over to Jace’s place, so I search the cabinets for any kind of lotion I could use in place of a proper makeup remover. I only find a tube of aftershave. I squeeze a little on a cotton disk. It’s white and creamy and looks a lot like a moisturizer. Should do.

  I shrug and squeeze more product on the disk, then rub it all over my face and my eyes. In five seconds flat, I feel like my head has been teleported to the North Pole during a volcanic eruption or locked into a burning ice cube. My skin feels freezing and on fire at the same time. I quickly splash myself with more water, trying to rinse the dreadful aftershave.

  I blindly reach for Jace’s towel and dry my slightly less white-hot face on it. When I meet my gaze in the mirror, I almost laugh… I thought the rabid raccoon look was rock bottom, but add bloodshot eyes and a flaming complexion and I look like one of the red monsters from Labyrinth, but one who had an epic mascara fail.

  I stare at the tube of aftershave accusingly and read the label.

  Menthol aftershave for a refreshing effect, apply only in small quantities. Test for skin sensitivity before using.

  Guess I should’ve read that first.

  The face fixing will have to wait until I can get to the emergency kit in my desk at work. Since it’s so much closer to work, from Jace’s apartment, I go straight to our practice, skipping breakfast. My stomach is too knotted for food, anyway.

  I’m still wearing the same outfit as last night. But at least it’s work-appropriate—as opposed to my face.

  As I storm into the clinic, I ignore the receptionist’s shocked expression as I enter my office and get to work at once on cleaning up my face. Once I’m a little less scary, I walk back into the reception and ask to be alerted as soon as Dr. Collymore arrives.

  “If you could also cancel all of Dr. Barlow’s non-urgent appointments and redirect the rest to me or Dr. Collymore.”

  Betty nods. “Is everything okay, Dr. Archibald?”

  “Peachy,” I say, then go to hide back in my office.

  I sag on my chair, silently cursing at the ceiling.

  I can do this. The wedding is on Tuesday, a week from yesterday. So, at worst, I’ll only have to wait six days before talking to Jace.

  Six short, impossibly long days.

  33

  JACE

  My phone dies when I arrive at my parents’ lake house in the middle of the night. I don’t have a charger, I don’t even have a change of clothes, only my wallet and my dead phone.

  But the little charge I had left is all I needed to book an Uber to get me here from Lori’s house.

  I use the spare key under the mat to unlock the door. The security keypad beeps a countdown. I punch in the code, disarming the alarm.

  The house is dark and freezing. I kick off my shoes and turn on the heating. It’ll take all night for the house to warm up and maybe some. In the darkness, I find my way up the stairs and then to my old room.