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“I heard it’s worse, that he also is experiencing neurological deficits. It’s very sad for everyone. The Carmichaels are devastated. He’s taking a leave of absence from the company. May never be back.”

“I heard he might be disfigured.”

Megan moved through the throngs of guests at the Throckmorton home, picking up snatches of conversation as she went. There was certainly a most talked about topic, and it was Brent. This one was a smaller event than they usually handled, but the Throckmortons were not only former clients, but they’d become friends of Megan’s from the social scene. As such, she was off the clock. Midge Throckmorton, the family matriarch, had hired Soiree to handle the details of the party but insisted Megan attend as a guest. That meant she had Lourdes as the point person, and Demi there to assist.

Brent was indeed the topic of everyone’s conversation these days. Rich people loved to gossip about one another, and the Carmichaels had given them quite a lot to chew on this year.

“Things are a little crazy here tonight.”

Megan turned to find Jeff Carmichael at her elbow, smiling warmly. She’d always had a soft spot for Jeff. As the younger son, he wasn’t the poster child for the family the way Brent was. In fact, he was often overlooked. The also-ran. “I wasn’t aware you were speaking to me.”

He winced. “I’m not someone who holds grudges. Plus, Brent can fight his own battles.”

She touched her champagne flute to his. “I’d rather not fight anyone at all. Life’s too short for that, don’t you think?”

“Even better. You on your own tonight?” He scanned the room from his spot alongside her.

“If you’re asking about Allison, no, she’s not here.”

“A shame. She would have loved these fancy appetizers.”

Megan smiled. She couldn’t disagree, but it had been a week since they’d met at Shakers, and other than a few surface level conversations, there hadn’t been much contact. Mostly her fault. She could accept responsibility for being unavailable, tied up at work, or just not willing to engage in much deeper interaction. She had her armor up and wasn’t quite sure how to get it down again. Old habits died hard, especially when the stakes felt so unbelievably high. She was adrift and damn well knew it. “She’s probably at Brent’s. She seems to think he has no one else.”

“I feel bad about that. I’ve offered to step in, but he turns me down every step of the way.”

“Of course he does. He’s no fool.” Her champagne glass was empty, and that was a shame. Luckily, a server passed by with a fresh tray at that exact moment. She helped herself, knowing the alcohol would take the edge off. “Who knows? Maybe they’re meant to be. Maybe this whole accident was the universe’s way of bringing them back together, so they can live happily ever after in a big house.”

“I don’t know about that. I can’t even begin to weigh in when—”

“Jeff.” She turned to him with a smile. “You don’t have to. He’s your family. I would never expect you to speak ill of someone you love.”

“You’re a good human. I just hope it works out well. For everyone.”

She smiled ruefully. “Tricky.”

“Yeah. I know.” He raised his glass in farewell and turned to go.

She just couldn’t resist. “Jeff?” He looked back. “Do you think she still loves him? Honest opinion.”

He hesitated, clearly off-guard. These were not waters he was comfortable wading into, but she was floundering and looking for guidance, insight.

“Please?” she asked.

He looked away and then met her gaze. “From what I saw daily at the hospital, I think it’s a possibility.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Megan nodded and sent him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded back and disappeared into the sea of guests. Her body felt cold, heavy, and sick. She set down her nearly full glass of champagne, no longer able to consume it because she was pretty sure that Jeff Carmichael had just confirmed her worst fear. She wanted to run from the party, take shelter in some way, hide, escape it all and, at the same time, recognized the lunacy of it all. She couldn’t escape the loss that was heading her way. All she could do was minimize it and figure out a way to move forward.

* * *

Something was going on. If Megan had been unavailable before, she was exponentially MIA ever since their almost date at Shakers. She bore part of the responsibility, still riding the guilt train for having left her at the bar. Yes, Brent needed her, but when she examined how the whole scenario must have made Megan feel, she understood how it might have hurt her feelings. Megan saw her racing to her ex-fiancé’s side rather than spending the evening with her, the first real shot they’d had at alone time in a while. Not only that, but she’d been at Brent’s place nearly every day after school since, and Megan knew it.

Their conversations these days were polite but short. Megan generally ended them, explaining that she had an appointment or an engagement and that she knew Allison needed to get back to Brent. Those comments hadn’t escaped her. The nagging feeling that Megan was simply using this scenario as a reason to step back from Allison also tugged at her. Maybe Megan missed the freedom of dating other people. Maybe the luster of the new relationship had dimmed.

“When am I going to see you again?” Ally asked that night, the phone pressed to her ear as she lounged on her couch. It was late. She should be in bed getting what sleep she could before her early workday, but after her time at Brent’s, followed by an intense session of grading backlogged papers, all she could think about was how desperately she missed her happiness, Megan.

“I know, right? It’s been too long.” Well, at least they agreed on that much.