Page 80 of Beautiful Dreamer

“Damn.”

“Give her time,” KC said, ignoring them. “Not everyone moves atthe same pace.”

Conflicting emotions crossed Dexter’s features, and he turned hisglass in a circle. It looked miniscule in his hands. “I thought we were boththere, ya know?”

KC grabbed his hand across the table. “Doesn’t mean you won’t bothbe there next month. If she’s the one, Dex, you gotta put in the time. Bepatient. Take it at her pace.”

“At least she didn’tleave,”Elizabeth said, and took another swig. She liked the wordswigand the way thatphoto of a beaver on the wall seemed to be smiling at her. She waved at it.Friendly little beaver.

KC glanced behind her in confusion and then back. “Who are youwaving at? Please say Thalia didn’t just walk in. That is not at all what weneed tonight.”

Elizabeth sulked. “That would not be helpful when I’m drinking thebrown stuff. No. Plus, I have no interest in Thalia, not after experiencing—”

“Love?” KC asked. Elizabeth shut her mouth. She refused to saythat word, to acknowledge the strength of what emanated from smack in themiddle of her chest like a beacon. It was too much, and verbalizing it wouldpush her over the edge. “Are we not going there?” KC asked apologetically.

“Nope,” Elizabeth said, and tossed back the rest of her glass.“We’re not. Are we doing another brown? I’m in.”

Dexter hopped up. “This round’s on me.”

An hour and a half later, once Elizabeth tried to take the beaverphoto off the wall and home with her forever, her friends insisted on walkingher there, during which she cried. “Was it real?” she asked, quietly, staringup at the trees as if they held the answer. “I think maybe I romanticized thewhole thing.”

“Of course it was,” KC said. “I saw it firsthand. I’m just sorryfor how abruptly she left. She has some things to work through, I think.”

“I’m not even sure she gave it a second thought. Bam. She had abuilding to sell and wasout.”Elizabeth held her arms out like an airplane to steady her balance. It was alsoway more fun than she would have imagined. “Do you think she hesitated even alittle? I’d like to know, ya know? I should ask that beaver.” She blinked hardto clear her damn vision. “He seemed wise.”

“Nah, you’re wise,” Drunk Dexter said. He got quiet when he drank,only piping up occasionally. Sometimes he made sense. Luckily, KC had cutherself off three rounds ago and had taken charge of getting everyone homesafely and at a reasonable hour. “You know she was into you. Hell, the whole towndid.”

“She was into me,” Elizabeth said, needing to hear the words.“Didn’t matter, though. She left. Career was more important. People alwaysleave me. Have you noticed that? It’s part of my life. If anyone writes a bookabout me, that’s what they’ll call it.LeavingLizzie.” She stared blankly at her friends as the world spun. “OrmaybeLizzie theUnlovable. Something with an ‘L’ because that alliteration pops.”She made a few popping sounds with her lips.

“C’mon, Liquored Up Lizzie,” KC said, angling an arm around herwaist. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Alone.”

“Nope. You have a dog now, remember?”

She brightened at the thought. “Scout. Oh, that’s the best newsever. We’ll snuggle.”

They arrived at her place, and the high she’d been on just minutesbefore, the one that let her push through the pain to make jokes and ride thealcohol wave, seemed to drop her harder and faster as the minutes ticked by.The reality of her broken heart busted through like the Kool-Aid Man through abrick wall, prompting her to struggle with her own self-worth. “Good night,guys,” was about all she could manage as she closed the front door on her twoconcerned friends. “I’ll take it from here,” she called through the barrier.Once alone, she walked slowly into her living room, blinked several times, andslid to the floor, doing her best to muffle the sob.

This wasn’t where she wanted to be in her thirties.

Not even close.

Chapter Twenty

Devyn hadn’t eaten lunch. She hadn’t eaten breakfast either. If sheremembered correctly, she’d managed a few forkfuls of a blackened chicken saladin a to-go container Karen had brought to her desk for dinner, but most of ithad landed in the trash when the phone took precedence. She only had a fewshort weeks to turn this project around, and she damn well planned to succeed.She’d exhausted her Rolodex of clients and brokers and had her team going hardat her international contacts, trying to stir up more interest abroad. Thestrategy had been fruitful and they’d received contracts on six more units inthe past two days alone, with more on the way. She hadn’t had a proper night’ssleep in days either, but that was nothing new.

It had just been a rough time, and every part of her body felt it.

A quick glance at the clock told her it was close to three thatafternoon. She picked up her desk phone’s receiver. “Hey, Karen? Any chance ofa cappuccino before I leave for the next showing?” She’d taken to handling asmany of the showings as possible in person. There was no time to lose, andshe’d given her team plenty of opportunities to prove themselves. It wasn’tthat they hadn’t done a decent job, it just hadn’t been fast enough. Noteveryone could close the way she could. It’s why the listing was in her name.

“It’s already here,” Karen said. “I sent Billy ten minutes ago.”

“This is why we make a good team.”

“About that raise?”

Devyn laughed. “On my to-do list. Building sold first. Karen’sraise next.”

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