“I’m so tired, Evie.” She buried her face in her hands.

“I know. But you’re a smart, strong woman! What is it you want?”

Bri shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess…to just be happy.”

“Okay. Happiness. A good start. What else?” Evie jumped up from her chair, taking notes as she paced the floor. Her hyperactivity and bright smile gave Brianne a little bit of bolstering.

“Um, I want to kick ass at this contest with Leland.”

“Now you’re talking! And what will that contest mean for you?”

“Success for the business. Success for us!”

“Hooray!” Evie tossed her notepad in the air, making Brianne laugh at her enthusiasm.

“Listen, lady.” Evie got in Brianne’s face, leaning over the desk for emphasis. “You are going to kick ass with this. Why? Because you’re Brianne fucking Whitcomb, that’s why. It’s what you do. You do not fail, because you don’t know how to fail. Now let’s get the fuck to work.”

* * *

Three hours later, despite her newfound enthusiasm to get “what she wanted,” Brianne felt more hopeless than ever. She’d considered everything she’d learned from Gabe and their night away, and what it would take to throw an event spectacular enough to compete with Leland, and she’d come to the terrible conclusion that it just wasn’t possible.

Not with the time and financial constraints they were under.

She wondered what would happen when she conceded without holding an event. There was no way she was going to win. Why bother embarrassing herself? She’d give up, close the business, just like Jane had. Leland would get everything.

She’d never quit anything before, though. She didn’t even know how to go about it. And if she did, she would never live it down—first getting stood up on her wedding day, then closing her business. She might as well go out and buy some of those muumuus Evie had teased her about.

No. She wasn’t going to go out like that. No way. She shook herself, squaring her shoulders.Onward, she told herself.

“Did you get through to the string quartet?” she called out to Evie, seated just outside her door.

“They’re busy,” Evie groaned.

“Of course they are.” Brianne had made so many phone calls, her nails were chipped from dialing. And so far, no luck. None of her favored bands or acts were available that weekend. One person had even snidely commented that Brianne,of all people, should know that brides booked their bands far in advance. Another crack about the aborted wedding. How cute.

She placed her forehead on her folded arms. What else could possibly go wrong?

Just then, the front door opened and closed.

“Don’t worry, dear heart, I’ll find my way in.”

In a few seconds, Leland was looking as slimy as ever in the doorway. Evie stood behind him, making slashing motions with a pair of scissors.

“What do you need, Leland?” Brianne did her best to appear sunny and full of confidence. He was obviously here to snoop. The last thing she needed was for him to see how undone she was by this contest.

“Just checking in to see how things are going here, Brianne, dear,” he said. “It’s something Jane and I used to do, checking in with each other. To see if the other needed help, that sort of thing.”

Bullshit, Brianne thought. She knew Jane too well to believe a crap story like that.

“That’s very generous of you, Leland,” she said, her shoulders thrown back and chin held high. “It means a lot to me that you would take the time from what I’m sure is a great deal of work for you, just to come here and check on me.”

“Oh, no need to worry about that.” Leland waved one manicured hand, stepping further into the office. The sweater draped over his shoulders matched his eyes, something Brianne knew without being told was a deliberate touch. She’d bet he’d just come from the salon, his hair looking absolutely perfect—not a strand out of place. “Things are well in hand in my neck of the woods. This is hardly my first rodeo, darling.”

“No, you’ve been through quite a few rodeos over the years,” Brianne observed drily. Evie threw a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle at Brianne’s quip.

Leland’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly—probably as much as they could since he was so heavily Botoxed.

“You have no idea how much sleep I’ve been losing over you, darling,” he said, clicking his tongue.