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He blinked at her and she could see his frustration, but she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, he’d sent her to the wolves when he encouraged her to go to Vegas.

“Did you know she still has feelings for you?”

The silence was painful, a reminder of how little she belonged in his world. She wanted to ask if he had feelings for Braithe, too, but she was too afraid of his answer. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was low and serious. “She called me.”

“What? When?”

He was uncomfortable; she could tell by the way he was shifting around in his seat.

“Can we talk about this when I get home?”

“Your ex-girlfriend, your best friend’s wife, calls you in Japan, while you’re there with her husband—and you don’t think that’s important enough to talk about right now?”

She pressed her lips together so hard she thought she might have a headache for it later.

“She sounded pretty drunk. At first, I thought she was calling because something happened to you, but she started talking about her feelings.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Of course, Rainy. I just didn’t think it was the time.”

She felt bad, she did. He was on the most important trip of his career to date; it wasn’t fair of her to do this now.

“Look, I get how this looks. I’m sorry,” he said. “Braithe and I dated our senior year of high school. I went to school out east and she and Stephen went to UCLA together. They ended up having more in common than we did.” There was no resentment in his voice, no sadness. “But you need to know that I love you, and only you.”

“Okay,” she said.

Grant leaned toward the computer until she could no longer see his hotel room, his face filling her screen.

“Rainy, it’s you for me.”

She nodded.

They ended the call and she felt worse than she had before, Grant’s words doing little to soothe her. She was angry and embarrassed, and more than that, she didn’t know if she believed Grant, and that was a whole problem in itself.

Rainy didn’t go to sleep or even close her eyes; she sat propped in her bed till the early hours of the morning, too afraid of the dreams that would come if she tried.

She must have drifted off around five in the morning; when she woke, it was only an hour later, and her phone was ringing. Viola.

“What? Why are you calling so early?”

“Rude,” said Viola. “That’s the problem with you New Yorkers.”

Rainy laughed, wishing that were the problem; how simple life would be if her personality was a product of where she lived instead of what had been done to her.

“You know why I’m calling?”

“I’m assuming it has something to do with Vegas and Braithe.” She sighed, sitting up in bed and frowning.

“You assume correctly. Tara showed up at my house yesterday.”

“I wish she hadn’t done that. You don’t need that type of stress.”

“Braithe is my friend,” Viola said firmly. “I’ve known that woman for eight years. This just isn’t like her. I’d go talk sense into her if I could, at least try to convince her to come home and talk it out with Stephen.”

“Why doesn’t Tara go?” Rainy’s throat was dry, and she grabbed a juice from the minifridge, propping the phone against her shoulder. She didn’t like where the conversation was going.

“She’s prepared to fly back, but Braithe told her not to come. She was pretty firm about it, so sending Tara might make things worse than they already are. Tara isn’t exactly a calming presence to be around.”