Page 38 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

I couldn’t do anything about that right now, but I could make some progress with Sally and Jazz.

I parked in front of his building and we sat looking at it. “Some landscaping would help,” I finally said.

He gave me a blank look.

“The building,” I prodded helpfully. “It’s like an ugly little box sitting there. You need landscaping. And for God’s sake, get rid of that couch.”

I can only do so much in one day, and the morning was almost gone. I did take a chance that I might catch Monica Stevens, and stopped by Sticks and Stones.

Like I mentioned, glass and steel was her thing, her signature, and she was a popular decorator. I don’t get it myself, but then I don’t have to. Sticks and Stones, of course, was decorated in her style. I walked in and paused, giving myself time to stop shuddering before I actually spoke to anyone.

A stick-thin, very chic woman in her forties glided toward me. “May I help you?”

I gave her the full cheerleader smile, wide and white. “Hello, I’m Blair Mallory, owner of Great Bods. I’d like to speak to Ms. Stevens, if she’s available.”

“I’m so sorry, but she’s out on a job. May I have her call you?”

“Please.” I gave her one of my business cards, and left. There was nothing else to do until I spoke to Monica herself, and since she wasn’t there I now had time for lunch, as well as returning phone calls.

I ate lunch first, on the theory that if I talked to Wyatt before I ate then I might not feel like eating. If I were going to be unhappy, then I’d need to keep my strength up.

When I was back in the car I sat in the parking lot and—yes, I was procrastinating—returned Mom’s call first. Then Roberta’s. Mom reported that she’d finally run the wedding cake maker to earth and was negotiating an emergency deal with her. Roberta reported that the flowers were well in hand, she had a florist friend who was making the arrangements in her spare time, and I needed to get with her about my bouquet.

I was almost in tears by the time I finished talking to them, because I didn’t know if the wedding would take place or not, but I had to pretend everything was hunky-dory. I couldn’t let myself cry because I didn’t want my nose to run, because if it did then I’d sound as if I’d been crying when I talked to Wyatt, which of course I would have been, but…never mind. It’s complicated.

I hoped he wouldn’t answer. I hoped he was in the middle of a meeting with Chief Gray, or the mayor, and had his phone turned off, except I knew he never turned his phone off, he just set it to vibrate. So then I hoped he’d dropped his phone in the john. Obviously, I wasn’t finished putting off thinking about last night.

But I called him. By the third ring, I was getting my hopes up that he wouldn’t answer. Then he answered. “Blair.”

I’d sort of halfway planned what I would say, but when I heard his voice I forgot what I’d been planning. So I said something totally brilliant. “Wyatt.”

He said drily, “Now that we have our identities sorted out, we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. I’m not ready to talk. I’m still thinking.”

“I’ll be at your place when you get off work.” He ended the call as abruptly as he’d answered.

“Jackass!” I yelled, sudden fury shaking me, and I threw my phone onto the floorboard of the car, which of course accomplished nothing because then I had to fish it out. It’s a good thing I’m limber, because it’s a small car.

I didn’t want to talk to him yet. The four remaining issues I hadn’t considered were so big I couldn’t quite face them. What I was most afraid of was that Wyatt would convince me to put this fight behind us and move on, then later these big issues would bite us in the ass. Hecouldconvince me, because I loved him. And he’d want to convince me because he loved me, too.

That was what worried me. For the first time since realizing Wyatt loved me—I’d known for quite a while that I loved him, the jackass—I had real doubts that we could make a marriage work.

Love by itself isn’t enough; it’s never enough. There had to be other things, such as liking and respect, or love would get worn away by the realities of everyday life. I loved Wyatt. I adored him, even the things that got me most up in arms, such as that aggressive drive to win that had made him such a good football player and extended to every facet of his character. Wyatt was strong enough that I didn’t have to rein in my own alpha tendencies; he could take anything I threw at him.

One of the issues I hadn’t tackled yet was suddenly staring me in the face: Wyatt might notwantto take everything I threw at him.

Two years ago he’d walked away after just three dates because he’d decided I was too high maintenance—that is, not worth the trouble. When Nicole Goodwin was murdered two months ago in my parking lot and for a little while he thought I was the victim, that had forced him to admit that what we’d had going on between us was damn special, like lightning in a jar. So he’d come back and convinced me that he loved me, and we hadn’t been apart since, but—and this is a big “but,” Hottentot big—for two years he’d been perfectly content not to be with me. That had always irritated me, like a rash, and now I realized why.

I hadn’t changed. I was just as high maintenance as I’d always been.

He hadn’t changed, either. We had compromised in some things, we’d adapted in other ways, but essentially we were still the same people we’d been two years before, when I hadn’t been worth the trouble to him. These past couple of months, what I had seen as a deliciously fun jostling for position, maybe he’d just been enduring.

There was evidently a lot about me that he either didn’t know, or didn’t like. And facing that was breaking my heart.

Chapter

Sixteen

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