When Reyna’s doorbell rang well before noon, she expected to see Louisa on her welcome mat. But her greeting fell away when she saw Marceline’s face.
“Hey, honey.” They exchanged a warm hug, and Reyna invited her inside. “I’m surprised you’re up this early.”
“Me, too.” Marceline, dressed in her usual casual-sexy style, defied the heat of summer in a light yellow sundress that set off the silken darkness of her skin. She wore her long hair twisted into a French roll. Her high heels tapped gently against the hardwood floors as she crossed the threshold. “But I wasn’t so drunk last night that I didn’t notice you were a little down.”
She headed straight for Reyna’s kitchen, poured herself a glass of lemonade and joined Reyna at the wide window seat. Reyna sipped her coffee and made room for Marceline’s skinny hips. Her friend sighed and kicked off her shoes. She smiled with a touch of her old mischief when the Jimmy Choo heels clattered to the floor. She stretched and wriggled her toes. “So what’s going on with you? Is it Garrison?”
Reyna sipped her warm coffee but didn’t say a word. Marceline laughed.
“Don’t even try that tactic with me! I’ve seen you use it on too many people over the years.” Marceline clasped her glass of lemonade between her hands but didn’t drink from it. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
Marceline, though one of her very best friends, wasn’t someone Reyna usually talked with about romance. Marceline was someone she talked with about money, the future, how things had gotten so far off track from when they graduated high school, but for some reason the discussions of men and relationships had never been easy between them.
Reyna tipped her head back to lean into the wall and watch Marceline from beneath slightly lowered lids. It was nearly ten in the morning, and after the enthusiastic postdivorce party, she expected all her friends to be nursing hangovers in the privacy of their own homes, but Marceline looked as fresh as a beauty queen on pageant night.
Reyna was only up and sipping coffee because she had a job interview after lunch. It was with an advertising firm in the city that she’d admired for a long time. Strangely enough, it was Garrison’s meddling from months before that had given her the courage to submit her application. If he thought she was good enough for Kellerman-Stark, why not a company that ranked just below them?
“Yes,” she said finally. “It is him.”
Marceline grinned in triumph. “I knew it. I figured it couldn’t be a coincidence that the man you were lusting after at the resort is the same one helping me with my divorce for free.”
Reyna vehemently shook her head, not wanting Marceline to get the wrong idea. “It’s not like that.”
“So you’re not the reason he’s helping me right now?”
“I did ask for his advice, yes, but...” She shook her head again. “Because of what happened with my divorce, I wasn’t sure he was the right one to talk to.”
“What does that have to do with anything, Reyna? Back then he was doing his job. Which was to get you out of Ian’s life with as little trouble and expense as possible.”
In that moment, Reyna regretted giving Marceline the full story of how she met Garrison. Her friend stared into her glass of lemonade, apparently caught up in something that had snagged her attention and would not let go. “He’s a good man.”
Reyna bit her lip. “I know,” she said softly.
“Are you sure you know?” Marceline cradled her untouched lemonade in her lap and stretched out a leg toward Reyna. “If you know, then why are you moping around this apartment?”
“I’m not moping. I have an interview downtown this afternoon.”
“And that’s why you’re sitting around here in your pajamas drinking coffee as if you had all the time in the world?” Marceline finally put the glass to her lips and took a long swallow. Traces of the lemonade dampened the fine hairs above her lip. “If you really knew what kind of man Garrison was, you would be in his office right now, kissing his face and confessing how much you miss him.”
“Miss him?” It seemed a mild word for the irrational craving she had to see him, the sadness that permeated her days, even after all these months.
“Yes. You do. Don’t even bother denying it.”
Marceline stared down into her cup again. The confidence that blew her into Reyna’s apartment suddenly wavered, showing the facade that it was. She was better, but not as well as the sunny dress, freshly done hair and smiles would indicate. Marceline drew a breath.
“Did you know that Garrison always does pro bono work for battered women?”
Reyna sat up straight. “No. I didn’t.” This was the first time Marceline had ever mentioned abused women; before, she always skirted any hint of a conversation about abusive relationships.
“Garrison...gave me a list of resources for where to go. He took me to a place, a home for women like me.” Her eyes flittered away from Reyna to look outside the window. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be. A dirty place with desperate and broken women who were too ugly to keep a man.”
Reyna winced at the words that left her friend’s mouth.
“The house is almost like mine,” Marceline said. The one she’d given up in the divorce because she couldn’t stand the memories it held for her. “It’s big and airy and on the water. The women are nice. It’s almost like they’re at a retreat or something.” A pained smile twitched across her face. “Garrison helped a lot of them. I can’t thank you enough for talking to him for me. Without you, I’m not sure how all this would have turned out.” Marceline took another deep breath.
“Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about me.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Garrison is nothing like Ian.” Reyna winced at the comparison between the two men. “He’s so much better than that two-faced ass your ex turned into. Even though he never shares anything private with me, I can tell he wants things to work out between the two of you. You’re the one who is pushing him away and—”
Reyna couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. “You’re wrong.”
Marceline looked at her. “I’ve known you a long time, Reyna. Before Ian, you would’ve given a man like Garrison a chance. But the crap that happened when you were married changed you.”
“If it hadn’t been for Ian, I wouldn’t have even met Garrison.”
“You don’t know that for sure. Not that it matters. Yes, he was the lawyer in your divorce, so what? Don’t judge him from that first impression. If people met you at the tattoo studio and judged you based on that, it wouldn’t be fair, either.”
She winced at the mention of her job. “There’s nothing wrong with what I do.”
Marceline made a sound of frustration. “I wish you’d stop missing the point and hear what I’m telling you.”
But Reyna’s deflecting and dodging hadn’t stopped her ears from working. “I hear you,” she said softly.
After Marceline left, Louisa called. They tag-teamed her. In the most painful way possible, she reamed Reyna out for moping at the bar and ruining Marceline’s fun.
“You need to get it together, friend,” Louisa warned in that warm acid voice of hers. “I don’t want to go hunting for your butt next time in a damn snowstorm.”
With Louisa’s words ringing in her ears, Reyna got ready for her job interview. Half her mind was focused on impressing the head of the graphic arts department. But the other was busy figuring out just exactly what she needed to do to fix things with Garrison. If they could be fixed.