be. Here.” He offered her a Kleenex.
She took it and wiped her wet cheeks and eyes, blew her nose. “I’ve seen so many violent deaths and injuries in the ER, but it’s never happened to a friend. I’ll never look at another burn victim without remembering. The smell—”
“Try not to think about it,” Andy said. “How’s your shoulder?”
She’d forgotten all about it. “It’s fine. Heck of a vacation I’ve had, isn’t it? If I were paranoid, I’d think someone is out to get me, that they put a bomb in my car when they missed killing me on the chairlift.”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
She had no idea why she’d said something so outrageous. She attempted a smile. “You think I have a secret life?”
“No, but something might have happened in the ER—”
“Nothing did. I’m just having a string of really bad luck. I’m definitely staying away from ladders and black cats for a while.” She took a couple deep breaths. “How did you know I was shot? The paper didn’t give my name.”
“Kristen told me.”
“When?”
“I talked to her the day after it happened.” Andy looked sheepish. “She promised to try to convince you to agree to see me again.”
A phone rang twice, the floor creaked under someone’s shoes, voices murmured, a door slammed. Normal sounds. Except nothing was normal. Her eyes filled again. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
“I know. Neither can I.” Andy wiped a tear from her cheekbone and held Jillian close again. His heart pounded under his cashmere sweater, the one she’d given him a Christmas ago.
“I’m going to miss her so much,” she whispered.
“Me, too.” Andy’s arms tightened. “Me, too.”
* * * *
At nearly four in the morning, they pulled up in front of the Denver apartment Jason had rented when he and Kristen split up two years earlier. Jillian and Andy muttered a few sympathetic platitudes. Jason got out of the car and plodded to the front door.
“Stay at my place tonight.” Andy watched her, his hands on the steering wheel of the idling Lexis.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“In the spare bedroom,” he added. “Kristen told you that I wanted to talk to you.”
Jillian nodded. She didn’t want to discuss this now. Seeing Andy tonight was raising conflicting emotions she was in no state to sort out.
“I do want to, but not tonight. I thought you might not want to be alone in your apartment. I sure as hell don’t.” He took one of her hands. “You can trust me, Jillian.”
She studied him for long seconds. The last man who’d told her that had been lying. But Andy had never lied to her. When he’d wanted out of their relationship, he’d told her, before he’d started up with Tiffany. Andy wasn’t Mark.
Jillian squeezed his hand. “I know, and you’re right. I don’t want to be alone tonight, either.”
Andy’s condo looked the same as the last time she’d been there: all tasteful wool, leather, and wood except for the wagon wheel coffee table he’d had since college and refused to relinquish; neat except for a pile of magazines and newspapers on the floor beside the sofa and a half-full coffee mug on the end table. She followed him into the spare bedroom where he set down her suitcase. The Keystone police had considerately collected her things from the townhouse.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
She shook her head. “What time do you have to leave in the morning?”
“By nine. If I’m gone, make yourself at home.”
She touched his arm. “I’m glad I didn’t go home tonight.”
“So am I,” he said. “Get some sleep.”
* * * *
Jillian didn’t sleep, not really. One of the sleeping pills she’d gotten after she’d been shot knocked her out for a couple hours, but then she woke up and thought about Kristen. All those memories everyone claims will eventually be comforting, but at the moment hurt like hell.
At eight, she gave up. She dressed then applied blush and lipstick in an attempt to make her pale face look less skeletal. It only accentuated her dark circles, making her look like a skeleton with a couple fading black eyes.
Andy sat at the kitchen table, typing on his laptop. “How did you sleep?”
“Lousy. How about you?” Jillian pulled a mug from the cupboard above the coffeepot and filled it.
“The same. I have a meeting, but I should be done by noon. I can take the afternoon off.”
Jillian returned the pot to the warmer and sat at the table beside Andy. “Don’t worry about me. I want to go see Kristen’s parents then I need some time alone.” She sipped hot, strong coffee.
“The funeral’s tomorrow. At ten at First Lutheran. Jason called.”
“That’s fast.”
“I think her family wants to get it over with. It will be several days before the authorities release her remains, so…”
Jillian cradled her mug between her palms. “I can’t believe we’re talking about Kristen.”
“Do you want to stay here again tonight?” Andy asked.
“Thanks, but I need to go home. I have to find something to wear to the funeral.” She closed her eyes against a stab of pain.
“At least let me take you to it.”
She took a couple steadying breaths before reopening her eyes. “I’d appreciate that.”
“I’ve got to go.” Andy closed his laptop and stuck it into his briefcase. “I’ll come back and give you a ride home.”
“I’ll take a cab. Then I should rent a car.”
Andy stood and slipped on the suit coat he’d draped over a chair. She’d forgotten how terrific he looked in a suit, how terrific he looked no matter what he wore. Had made herself forget.
“Call me if you change your mind about staying here or feel like going to dinner,” he said. “Or need to talk.”
She’d also made herself forget what a truly nice guy he was. “Thanks. For everything.”
Andy’s eyes darkened. “She meant a lot to me, too.”
Jillian nodded.
“And so do you.” He grabbed his briefcase. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine-fifteen.”
* * * *
Jillian wiped her eyes with a crumpled Kleenex one more time as she stood in the pew.
Exiting to an intricate organ arrangement of How Great Thou Art, people filed down the aisle of the enormous Gothic church.
“Kristen would have loved this,” she said. “All these people, I mean.”
Andy raised an eyebrow. “That so many people liked her, or that so many lawyers had to change their plans on a moment’s notice and give up all those billable hours to be here?”
“Both. I never realized how many friends she had.” She released Andy’s hand, which she’d gripped through most of the service.
He shrugged his dark-suited shoulders. “She made friends everywhere, even with attorneys who opposed her. She was that kind of person.”
“Thanks for