she got into her car, her gaze immediately went to the passenger floorboard where she saw a vase full of red roses. On the passenger seat was a gift box. Chocolates?
She doubted it due to the odd box size. She ripped open the package, and gave a trembling smile at what was inside.
A new pair of running shoes.
“YOU’RE NOT RIGHT, you know.”
McKenzie didn’t argue with her best friend. Cecilia was correct and they both knew it. Then again, one didn’t argue with a person streaking hair color through one’s hair.
“I think you should talk to him.”
“Who said this was about him?” Okay, so maybe she was feeling more argumentative than she should be.
Cecilia’s gaze met McKenzie’s in the large salon mirror in front of her styling chair. “You’re still upset about your mother getting hitched? I thought you were over that.”
“I am over that.” How could she not be when her mother was happier than McKenzie recalled her ever being? When she’d morphed into an energetic, productive person who suddenly seemed to have her act together?
Yves had taken her to South America to a bird-watching resort for their honeymoon. Since they’d returned her mother seemed as happy as a lark, working at the health-food store with her new husband.
This from a woman who’d never really held a job.
“Then it has to be Lance.”
“Why does it have to be Lance?”
“The reason you’re lost in your thoughts and moping around like a lovesick puppy? Who else would it be?”
“I’m not,” she denied with way too much gusto.
“Sure you are.”
“I meant I’m not a lovesick puppy,” she countered, because at least that much was true.
Cecilia laughed. “Keep telling yourself that, girlfriend, and maybe you’ll convince one of us.”
McKenzie didn’t say anything, just sat in the chair while Cecilia dabbed more highlight color onto her hair, then wrapped the strand in aluminum foil.
“Have you tossed out the roses yet?”
What did it matter if she still had the roses Lance had given her on Valentine’s Day? They still had a little color to them.
“I’m not answering that.”
“It’s been a month. They’re dead. Let them go.”
“I thought I might try my hand at making potpourri.”
“Sure you did.” Cecilia had the audacity to laugh as she tucked another wet strand of hair into a tinfoil packet. “What about the shoes?”
“What about them?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve known you too long. Have you worn them yet?”
That was the problem with best friends. They had known you too long and too well.
“I’ve put them on,” she admitted, not clarifying that she’d put them on a dozen times, staring at them, wondering what he’d meant by giving her running shoes. “They’re a perfect fit.”
“I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. He pays attention to details.”
Lance did pay attention to details. Like the fact she ran away when things got sticky. Then again, he hadn’t tried to convince her not to. Not once had he mentioned anything beyond their seeing each other on Valentine’s Day. If she’d agreed, would he have asked for more? No matter how many times she asked herself that question, she couldn’t convince herself that he would have. She wasn’t the only one who ran.
Maybe she should have gotten him a pair of running shoes, too.
She bit the inside of her lower lip. “You think I messed up letting him go, don’t you?”
Cecilia’s look was full of amusement. “If you were any quicker on the uptake I’d have to call you Einstein.”
“It wasn’t just my choice, you know. He walked away that night at my mother’s rehearsal.”
“He gave you roses and running shoes.”
Yeah, he had.
“Running shoes? What kind of a gift is that anyway?”
“The kind that says he knows you better than you think he does. You’re a runner—physically, mentally, emotionally. He also gave you red roses. What does that say?”
“Not what you’re implying. He never told me that he loved me.”
“Did you want him to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do.” Cecilia pulled another strand of hair loose, coated it in dye, then wrapped it.
“He was in love with a woman who died. I can’t compete with a ghost.”
“She’s gone. She’s no longer any competition.”
“Cecilia!”
“I don’t mean to be crude, McKenzie, but if he’s in love with a woman who is no longer around, well, she’s not a real threat. Not unless you let her be.”
“He never even mentioned her to me.”
“There are lots of things you still haven’t told him. That’s what the rest of your lives are for.”
“He and I agreed to a short-term relationship.”
“You didn’t have a signed contract. Terms can change.”
“Ouch!” McKenzie yelped when Cecilia pulled a piece of hair too tightly.
“Sorry.” But the gleam in her eyes warned that she might have done it on purpose. “You could have kept seeing him. You should have kept seeing him.”
“He didn’t want to go beyond our two months any more than I did.”
“Sure you didn’t. That’s why you’re miserable now that you’re not with him anymore.”
“I’m not miserable,” McKenzie lied. “Besides, I see him at work.”
“How’s that?”
“Awkward. Strange. As bad as I was afraid it would be. I knew I shouldn’t become involved with a coworker.”
“So why did you?”
“Because…because I couldn’t not.”
Cecilia’s face lit with excitement that McKenzie had finally caught on. “Exactly. That should tell you everything you need to know about how you feel about the man. Why you are so intent on denying that you miss him makes no sense to me.”
“I miss him,” she admitted. “There, does that make you happy? I miss Lance. I miss the way he looks, the way he smiles, the way he smells, the way he tastes. I miss everything about him.”
Cecilia spun the chair to face her straight on, her eyes full of sympathy. “Girl, how can you not see what is so obvious?”
McKenzie’s rib cage contracted tightly around everything in her chest. “You think I’m in love with him.”
“Aren’t you?”
McKenzie winced. She wasn’t. Couldn’t be. She shouldn’t be.
She was.
“What am I going to