“What?”
“He said he had a personal emergency. That was why he ghosted you.”
Rhiannon snorted. “A hypothetical.”
A frown creased Katrina’s otherwise smooth brow. She often got skin care tips and products from Lakshmi. “Or real.”
“If that’s his excuse, it could mean anything. Or, yanno, he’s lying.”
“Oh yikes.”
“What? Do you know something?”
“He may not have been lying. The timing would fit with . . .” Katrina hopped up from the table and retrieved her phone from the counter. She typed something in, scrolled for a minute or two, and then grimaced before sitting down again and placing the phone faceup on the table.
“What’s this?” Rhiannon peered at the ESPN article.
“I remember hearing about Big Joe Lima’s death a few months ago. That’s his uncle, Rhi.”
Rhiannon skimmed the article, each word increasing her sense of foreboding. Long battle . . . ALS and Parkinson’s . . . chronic illness . . . brain donated to the Concussion Research Alliance . . . survived by his nephew . . .
The short bio ended with the date of death. Rhiannon compared it to her mental calendar. “His uncle died a few days after we were supposed to meet.”
“That would probably be what he was talking about.”
A sick feeling descended on Rhiannon, and she put her phone down. Underneath that sickness, there was another feeling, one she couldn’t quite identify. “Probably.”
Katrina’s smile was pained. “Rhi.”
“Don’t say it.” She could see it, the slight hopeful look in her friend’s eyes, and she didn’t want that hope to infect her.
“What do you think I’m going to say?”
Unlike Rhiannon, Katrina was a soft romantic, though she hadn’t dated anyone in years. She couldn’t go out to too many public places where she didn’t fear a panic attack. “That he had a valid reason for not showing up that night.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a valid reason, but it seems like extenuating circumstances.”
Rhiannon pulled her sleeves down so she could stick her thumbs through the thumbholes. These were her favorite kinds of sweatshirts, the ones with the long sleeves so she could cover her palms. They hugged her best.
Katrina cocked her head. “Could he have reasonably gotten ahold of you to explain he’d had an emergency sometime between standing you up and the conference?”
She’d unmatched him on the app, she never gave anyone her real number. Plus, the fake name and all. “No,” she said grudgingly, that sick feeling growing.
“Did he try to talk to you at the conference? I mean, when you weren’t being recorded.”
He’d chased her in that ballroom. “Kinda.”
Katrina tapped her fingers on the counter. The silence stretched between them and Rhiannon finally made a frustrated noise. “Say what you want to say.”
“I was only thinking . . . ninety-nine percent of the time, immediate block for ghosting, right? This might be the .01 percent time when a ghoster wasn’t being a total cowardly dog.”
Rhiannon folded her arms, then unfolded them. She thought of how tender Samson’s hands had been on her skin. When he’d pushed inside her, he’d leaned down and whispered in her ear. It’s been so long since I’ve done this. Tell me if it’s good for you. “So? So what?”
“So he hurt you when he ghosted you. Doesn’t it bring you some closure to know it wasn’t about you at all?”
“He didn’t hurt me,” Rhiannon snapped, even though she knew the snap was unfair.
Katrina’s eyes softened. “Of course.”
“I am not easy to hurt. I am a stone cold bitch when it comes to men. No rose-colored glasses here.”
Katrina toyed with her phone. “Rhiannon . . . you’re not that much of a cynic. I think you’re actually kind of a romantic.”
Rhiannon gasped, like her best friend had stabbed her. “You shut your beautiful perfect mouth.”
Katrina did not shut her delightful mouth. Oh no, she kept going. “You watch holiday movies every year. You try to hide it, but I see you crying.”
“Find me the empty soul who doesn’t get emotional over While You Were Sleeping.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “You send gifts to everyone who sends their success story in to Crush. Wedding and engagement and civil union and housewarming and baby gifts.”
“I send branded gifts. I want that kid to be sucking on their Crush rattle from birth, damn it, so it knows from whence it came. That’s business. It’s almost automated.”
Anyone else might be intimidated by her rising voice, but Katrina wasn’t anyone else. She cleared her throat. “Is it business to send a personalized note of congratulations with the gift?”
“You’re not allowed to talk to Lakshmi anymore.”
“You were more upset than I’ve seen you over a guy when you came back from Cayucos. You may have had one night with him, but you liked him, and he betrayed you, extenuating circumstances or not. It’s normal to have been hurt. It’s normal to want to know what happened, and to be relieved when you find out it wasn’t about you.”
The sympathy in Katrina’s demeanor should have warmed Rhiannon, but it made her want to claw her skin off. There was nobody in the world who knew as much about her life as Katrina did, and most days, that was fine. She needed one confidante who could be there for her 100 percent.
But being vulnerable wasn’t easy for her. Her sense of vulnerability was compounded by the layer of shame she felt over bolting from the party. And again from the interview.
Weakness. Weakness on top of weakness. “I was fine. I’m fine now.” Rhiannon picked up their plates and utensils and carried them to the sink. She rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher.
“I know your rules when it comes to guys, and I know why you have those rules in place. Sometimes rules don’t apply to every situation.”
After a couple of moments of silence, Katrina blew out a breath. “Okay. I’ll be in my office if you want to talk.”
Rhiannon finished putting away the dishes and carefully washed her hands. A romantic? Hurt? Her? No.
So why did you run away from him?
Because she’d wanted to. She didn’t have to explain herself to anyone! No one would blame her for running away from a zombie, five-time orgasm deliverer or not.
Rhiannon had about a million other things to do, but she found herself wandering down the hallway to Katrina’s office. She hovered in the doorway. The light bounced off Katrina’s shiny light brown hair when she lifted her head from the gold wire spread out over her desk. “Fine. I was hurt.”
Katrina sat back in her chair. Her workroom was in another corner of the house, but she tinkered with metal and stones wherever inspiration struck her. “I know.”
“You would have talked to him? Given him a chance to explain?” Rhiannon asked. Her throat felt rough, the words pulled out of her.
“Probably.” Katrina tipped her head at the armchair opposite her.
Rhiannon came in and perched on the edge of it. “Why? You know the stats, as well as I do.”