Page 751 of Hell Hath No Fury
Kennedy led her inside her apartment and went to the sideboard. She had a lovely metallic pink card. A few letter cut-outs from a book of patterns, some Victorian styled stamps, and she’d have a unique vintage chic Valentine. Not her best work but pretty good for a three minute emergency card.
Annie whistled, looking around. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve been over, but whoa.”
Kennedy examined her place with fresh eyes. The small apartment was headquarters for her business, and every drawer and tabletop was filled to the brim with save-the-dates, menu placards and for her latest client, one-thousand origami cranes for her reception place settings.
Whoawas right. She sighed. “It’s a little crazy lately, but I do love it.”
“So the business is working out for you?”
“Oh, yeah. There’s been some growing pains, but that’s a good problem to have. Why?” She slanted a sly glance at Annie. “Are you going to need my services anytime soon?”
Annie made a face. Not in shock or disgust; more like dismay. “Dan is great.” She paused. “So great. But he wants me to be available more. That’s what he said: available.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean? You have to tell me, because I’m flailing here.”
“I am the last person to ask for advice about your love life. Look at me.” She waved her hands toward the general state of paper product disarray, like a flashing neon sign: This Girl Is Single.
Annie seemed to see the logic in that. “Okay, but what would you do? You’re an entrepreneur. What if you met a guy who wanted you to be home for dinner every night, who wants to go out on weekends instead of working?”
“Besides throw a party? Because I have to say that sounds pretty good.”
Annie slumped onto the sofa. “I’m a horrible girlfriend.”
“No, you’re not.” Kennedy finished gluing on the L-O-V-E and blew gently to help it dry. “You’re a strong, self-sufficient woman who doesn’t want to give that up.”
“But…?”
“But there’s only so much time in a day. If it came down to it, would you give up Dan?”
“Hell no. He’s like…” She looked thoughtful. “He’s like the other parts of me, parts I didn’t even know were missing until I met him.”
She put the card down on the coffee table with a pen. “Write that down.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Annie bent her head and began to write.
Kennedy turned away, tucking the leftover patterns back into the box of scraps. Partly she felt the need to give privacy while Annie penned a note to her lover. But mostly Kennedy ached with longing.
She wanted to do more than slap together a Valentine’s Day card for her friend. She wanted to struggle with the message, pouring out her heart to a man who loved her back. She wantedto put the paper aside just for one night, to run her fingertips over flesh instead of dead tree pulp, to lick warm, salty skin instead of the sweet hint of envelope adhesive.
She glared into her lonely bag of romantic accoutrements. Lily-scented candles peeked from beneath green foliage and cardboard boxes of crackers. She pulled out the bottle of wine. She would need this far more than her friend, especially when the moans started coming through the walls.
When Annie was finished writing, Kennedy tucked the card into the bag and held it out.
“Here you go. Valentine’s Day in a bag. Maybe I can start a service for my new business.”
“Oh, now for that, I would definitely be your customer. In fact, I am one. Let me pay you for all this.”
Kennedy waved her away, practically pushing her out the door. “No, no, go and get ready. Dan will be here any minute.”
That got Annie’s attention. She sprinted across the hall, bag in hand. “Thanks, K. I owe you one.”
Kennedy shut the door and leaned back. Then banged her head against the door. Again.
It wasn’t just that she wanted someone to care about her, although that would be nice. She wanted someone to care about. But in her line of work, the only guys she talked to were getting ready to walk down the aisle. Where was she going to meet a guy? She needed divine intervention.
In the kitchen, she uncorked the bottle. Even if she were willing to forego the stress relief tonight, she wouldn’t have handed over this particular bottle of wine to Annie.La Petite Mort, the label read. It was obvious what was on Kennedy’s mind.
