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  “No, I don’t.” Angie sounded like a bitch.

  “I love you.” Luna said the words like she knew they wouldn’t change Angie’s mind.

  “I know.” Words that should mean everything just didn’t suffice.

  Luna took Angie’s hand. “I can’t just walk away from you, Angie. I just can’t.”

  “Oliver’s been asking about you.” Angie couldn’t see her way clear to trust Luna. Not with her future, with her heart. It would hurt too much if she was wrong. “This is what I was afraid of.”

  “Let me come in. I promise I won’t disappoint you.” Luna regarded Angie, her eyes pleading.

  “I want to,” Angie whispered, shocked at the admission.

  Luna squeezed her hand. “Then do it.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Angie closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s never that simple.”

  “Yes, it is. I love you and I think you love me.”

  Angie didn’t respond.

  “Do you?”

  Angie blinked, but the movement didn’t hold back her tears. She wiped them away before Luna could touch her. “I don’t know.”

  “I do.” Luna cupped her cheek. “I know. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Of course Luna could see it. Angie barely had a handle on her emotions. The whole world probably knew. “It’s not enough.” Angie pulled away from Luna’s embrace.

  “It can be if you let it.” Luna’s belief that love conquered all was charmingly naïve. Not that Angie had ever been in love, but she was practical enough to know that it had some very serious limitations.

  “This isn’t a Broadway musical. This is my life.” Angie stood, unable to bear the closeness to Luna any longer. “Love isn’t worth a damn without trust.”

  Luna stood and faced her. “Angie, you want me to make impossible promises, to predict the future. I can’t. I can just promise to love you.”

  “But that’s just it. No matter how many times you say that, it won’t change reality. I don’t know how to have faith in love. Yours or mine. We can’t build a future on that.”

  Luna pulled Angie’s hand to her chest. “Can we build it on the fact that my heart stops beating just a little every time I see you? Or that it breaks every time I think about how much my mom would have loved you and then I realize she’ll never have the chance to even meet you? How about the fact that Oliver makes me want to be a better person so I can be the kind of example he deserves? Or that I don’t want to commit horrible acts of violence when you take control of my remote?” Luna brushed her lips against Angie’s. “What about the part where you’re the person I want to fall asleep and wake up next to? And I can’t promise forever, but that’s what I want. That’s how it feels to me. Please, Angie, we deserve the chance to find out how far we can go.”

  Luna’s plea was impassioned and Angie agreed with every point. She felt the same way, wanted the same things, but she was too afraid to grab it.

  “I can’t.” Angie stopped trying to not cry. It was too late for that. “Everything you said sounds beautiful, but it’s impossible. I don’t trust love. People say I do and a few years later say I don’t.”

  “I won’t give up, Angie. I love you. Nothing will change that.”

  Angie left Luna standing on the porch. She couldn’t be near her for even a minute longer or her resolve would crumble. Ultimately, she’d regret it if she gave in. She just couldn’t let go of the dark fear in her chest. It was the same feeling she had watching woman after woman—starting with her own mother—walk out on her father. She simply couldn’t stand the anxious feeling of waiting for Luna to do the same. She already cared too much and refused to get in any deeper. The inevitable loss and pain weren’t worth it.

  She closed the door and rested her back against the hard surface. Gravity and mental exhaustion worked together and she crumpled to the floor, hugged her knees to her chest, and cried.

  “Tell her you’re sorry, that you didn’t mean any of what you said. Tell her to come back,” Oliver yelled, and pointed out the window. “Do it.”

  Angie forced herself to stop crying. The tears would do no good, and her son needed her. “Oliver, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know you sent her away after she said she loves you.” Oliver glared, his ten-year-old disapproval palpable.

  Angie refused to engage in this conversation with Oliver. “I’m going to take a shower.” It was odd timing, to say the least. She could smell dinner cooking, but she needed to get clean. She was drowning in emotional residue and the shower would help. It had to.

  “Mom, please, you can still fix this.”

  “Not this time, son.”

  Angie pulled the bathroom door shut on the conversation, turned the water on, and shed her clothing. As the water ran over her, she knew no amount of body wash and shampoo would erase the fact that her son thought she was an asshole.

  Angie agreed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thursday, September 24

  Angie moved the clothes in the dryer to her basket and the ones in the washer to the dryer. Even with Jack filling the role of stay-at-home parent, there was still an endless supply of laundry. And dishes. Floors to be vacuumed. Homework to be checked. Windows to be cleaned. For the first time, Angie was grateful. If she was careful, and worked hard, she could avoid thinking about Luna.

  A single knock on the kitchen door announced Tori’s arrival a half second before she walked into the room. At the same time, “I’m So Tired of Being Alone” came on the radio. All Angie’s effort to not think about Luna was shot to hell as their first dinner together rushed through her mind.

  She grunted and threw the basket, clothes and all, at the wall. It hit with a satisfying smack and bounced off, dumping clothes on the floor.

  Tori looked at Angie, the basket, then Angie again. “Is this what I can expect every time you hear Al Green?”

  Angie thought about it. Throwing things as a response to music, one of her used-to-be favorite songs, no less, seemed a tad over the top. Strangely, that didn’t bother her as much as it probably should have. “Yes. I think so.”

  “Good to know.” Tori helped Angie pick the clothes up, folding as she went. “On the upside, it’ll help me develop those catlike reflexes I’ve been working on.”

  Angie loved Tori for finding the positive in a seriously unpleasant situation. “I’ll try to time it for when you’re around.”

  “You planning to ever get over yourself?” Tori didn’t avoid tough questions, and Angie’s love dwindled a little because of it.

  “Don’t be silly.” Angie carried the basket to her bedroom. Tori followed.

  “You think this is silly?” Tori grabbed a handful of hangers from the closet.

  “I think I don’t want to talk about it.” Angie stuffed a stack of T-shirts into the drawer, but it wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as throwing the whole basket had been. She started on her blouses next, with a little more care since she didn’t want to shove a hanger through one of them.

  “She didn’t do anything wrong, Angie.”

  “I know that. This isn’t about right or wrong.” It’s about self-preservation. Angie had heard all the arguments. Intellectually, she understood. Really, she did. “I just can’t shake the fear of losing Luna. My only option was to give her up before I got too deep.”

  “You realize how fucking mental that sounds?” Tori looked ready to throw a basket of her own.

  “Mental or not, it’s how I feel.” Angie was tired of talking about it. “Why do you care so much?”

  Tori’s face softened. “Because I love you.” She squeezed Angie’s shoulder. “Besides, Luna’s miserable. And when she’s miserable, Perez is miserable. And then I don’t get laid. Your inability to get over it is affecting my sex life in a major way. Seriously not cool.”

  The only thing Angie heard was “Luna’s miserable.”

  “Is Luna really that bad?” A tiny—minuscule, really—part of her fe
lt good to know that Luna was suffering, too.

  “Focus!” Tori clapped her hands together. “The important thing here is that I’m not getting any lovin’. This can’t go on.”

  Angie rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Honey.” Tori hugged Angie to her. “I’m sorry.”

  Tori rocked Angie, her arms a safe haven. Eventually Angie disengaged and resumed putting her blouses on hangers.

  “So is this your big plan? Go back into hibernation, hiding like you did before you met Luna?”

  “What do you want me to do? Go clubbing every night?”

  “How ’bout just once?” Tori stood, too, and grabbed Angie by the shoulders, forcing her to stop pacing the distance from her bed to the closet and back again.

  “Nothing’s changed, Tori. I still have a ten-year-old son.”

  “That didn’t stop you from finding time for Luna.”

  “Maybe it should have.”

  *

  Rain drizzled down, not enough to warrant Angie using her umbrella, but enough to make sure she was completely damp by the time she’d walked two blocks from her house. Fall in Portland was her least favorite season. The days were shorter and the weather unpredictable.

  “Summer is officially over.” Tori wore an elaborate raincoat and matching boots. It was terribly overcoordinated for the Northwest and a perfect fit for Tori’s personality.

  “Yes, but at least you look smashing.” Angie focused on the weather, on her friend, the business across the street. Anything to distract her from Coraggio on her right.

  “Hold up a minute.” Tori tapped on the glass and peered through the window.

  Angie shifted uneasily from side to side, looking at the ground. Luna was less than ten feet away. If she pushed open the door she’d be in her arms. It sounded so good. Angie glanced up and met Luna’s gaze through the rain-streaked glass.

  Luna stood at the counter, paperwork spread out before her. She wore reading glasses low on her nose and hastily removed them as she stared at Angie. Her mouth curved up on one side in a half smile, one dimple barely showed.

  The ache in Angie’s chest spread and contracted, her longing amplified by Luna’s nearness. Her reasons for not seeing Luna fled, along with all signs of logic and order. Angie touched her fingers to the glass, barely grazing the surface. She hurt and Luna could fix it.

  “Hi, Angie.” Perez stood with her arms around Tori. Angie hadn’t even registered her arrival.

  “Perez.” Angie nodded.

  “You should go in and say hi. She misses you.” Perez gestured toward the door.

  “We need to get to work.” Angie kicked herself mentally for passing on the invitation.

  “We have a few minutes,” Tori gently nudged.

  Angie turned back to look at Luna just in time to catch Ruby as she entered from the back room and wrapped her arms around Luna’s waist from behind.

  Perez narrowed her eyes. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  Angie knew exactly what Ruby was doing. Angie had left Luna alone, vulnerable. Ruby was swooping in to fill the gap. “I’ve got to go.” Angie forced herself not to run. “I’ll see you at work, Tori.” She held back for two blocks, then broke into a full-out sprint. Every time she was on the brink of giving in, she ran headfirst into Ruby. How many times did it need to happen in order for her to learn her lesson?

  *

  Luna cried out when Angie walked away, “Wait!” She shrugged Ruby’s hands off her, confused about where she came from but more focused on Angie’s rapidly departing back. She ran to the door and flung it open. “Angie!”

  She didn’t expect Angie to stop, but she was still disappointed when she started running.

  “Where did she come from?” Perez sounded pissed. She’d barely tolerated Ruby when Luna was seeing her. After her not-so-subtle ambush at the anniversary party, Perez’s disgust had increased and her desire to hide it had decreased proportionately.

  “I have no idea.” Luna didn’t look away from Angie’s shrinking image in the distance.

  “Well, deal with it, Luna. Stop letting her fuck things up.”

  Luna wasn’t sure at this point who Perez was more angry at—Ruby for showing up uninvited, Luna for ever sleeping with her, or Angie for running scared. Luna walked inside, anger at losing the moment with Angie bubbling below the surface.

  She’d been upset with Ruby at the party, but willing to chalk it up to one too many drinks. This afternoon, however, she knew that wasn’t the case.

  Ruby opened her mouth to speak and Luna cut her off.

  “Save it.” She held up her hand as if she could physically stop the flow of words. “Why are you here, Ruby? Do you get some sort of sick pleasure from torturing me?” Luna hadn’t seen Ruby since the night at Nan and Vi’s. Why did she appear again the second Angie looked almost willing to try?

  “Is it so hard to believe that I miss you?” Ruby stuck out her bottom lip in a pout that Luna used to think was sexy. Now she just found it annoying.

  “So call like a normal person.” Luna shook her head. Ruby made no sense sometimes. “You don’t get to show up here and start with the inappropriate touching.”

  “Come on, lover. We were good together once.” Ruby took a predatory step forward and Luna stepped back. She wasn’t getting trapped again.

  “We’ve already talked about this, it’s over. Period. End of the Ruby-and-Luna story.”

  “But circumstances have changed. I thought—”

  “Nothing’s changed for me. I love Angie.” The first time Luna said those words to Angie, it had been by accident, a premature, poorly timed slip of the tongue. Since then the words had flowed easily and she didn’t try to stop them. The audience didn’t matter, only the words and the emotion they claimed.

  “Looks like she loves you, too. So much that she refuses to even talk to you.”

  “Do you really think that reminding me of how you fucked up things between me and Angie will make me like you right now?” Luna advanced on Ruby, no longer afraid of being vulnerable. She was mad and she wasn’t holding back. “You need to leave. Now.”

  “Come on, lover, you don’t mean that.” Ruby’s purr lacked its usual seductive undercurrent.

  “I told you not to call me lover.” The longer the conversation dragged on, the better and worse Luna felt. She hated letting her temper have free rein. It wasn’t in her nature to be mean; her mother would be disappointed. On the other hand, Ruby had caused pain for both her and Angie. It felt good to repay that, even just a little.

  Before her inner sadist could take over completely, Luna backed away from Ruby. She slipped her reading glasses onto her face—a much-hated recent addition—and focused on the files on the counter. The words didn’t register, but Ruby didn’t know that, which was the important part.

  “Go away, Ruby, and don’t come back. You’re not welcome here anymore.” She didn’t turn around even after she heard the back exit open and close.

  “She’s gone.” Perez sounded as relieved as Luna felt.

  “So is Angie.”

  “Tori’s going to talk to her.” Perez stepped up to the opposite side of the counter and forced Luna to look up. “And so should you.”

  “Did you see the look on her face?”

  “Yes, she loves you.”

  Luna wanted to believe Perez, but she didn’t trust her own thoughts. It was too important, the mere hint of the possibility crippling with its weight. At this point, she couldn’t distinguish reality from fiction.

  “I hope so.”

  “You should go to her.”

  “She’s at work now.” Luna had screwed up too much to add messing with Angie’s job security to the list. Angie would perceive a visit at The Cadillac, no matter how short or well-intentioned, as just that. It was better for Luna to wait.

  “You should join us this Saturday.”

  Luna appreciated Perez’s whiplash change of subject, but didn’t think softball
would provide enough distraction for her. “Nah, my brain is so not working. I’d injure somebody with a loose ball or something.”

  “Oliver has softball on Saturdays, too, doesn’t he?” Perez looked hard at Luna as if mentally willing her to get the message. Too bad telepathy wasn’t one of Luna’s talents.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “According to Tori, our team is playing on the same field as Oliver’s this Saturday.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Saturday, September 26

  “Have you called her yet?” Tori shielded her eyes from the sun and watched Oliver at bat. “Whoo! Oliver!”

  “No.” Between Oliver’s game, Luna in the next field, and Tori’s constant chatter, something needed to give.

  Oliver swung and missed.

  “You could always talk to her here.” Tori clapped her encouragement, and Angie wasn’t sure who it was intended for, Oliver or her.

  Jack kept his eyes on Oliver. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Luna.” Tori answered, not Angie.

  Strike two for Oliver.

  “Really?” Jack sounded hopeful. “What about her?”

  “Focus on your grandson, Dad.” Angie pointed toward the field. Oliver deserved their attention.

  “But she’s right there.” Tori pointed to the players’ bench where Luna was seated. “The least you could do is wave.”

  “Luna’s here?” Jack searched the park, his head swiveling like a bobble-head doll. “Where? I haven’t seen her.”

  “Dad!” Angie snapped her fingers. “Oliver.”

  “Oh, right.” Jack looked back in time to see Oliver’s third strike. “Damn.”

  Oliver’s face turned red and Angie thought for a moment that he would throw the bat. He hated to strike out, and it wouldn’t have been the first time his temper got the best of him. Angie willed him to make a good choice. He gripped the bat white-knuckle tight, walked to his teammates, and set it against the fence with overt precision. Angie was proud. Self-control was better than a home run.