Page 78 of Deep Pockets

Her eyes are impossibly black. Darker than night. They should be opaque, but somehow I can see the pain inside. I can see the old heartbreak I brought up to hurt her. Lane Constantine was the charming man she learned not to trust. I brought it up to push her away, but I have to make sure she never comes back.

I look Eva Morelli directly in her beautiful, dark, sad eyes, the ones I’ve thought about for months. The ones I want to think about forever. “It’s over, sweetheart. We had a good time, but that’s all this ever was. I wish I could say I’ll miss you, but the truth is that I won’t. In a few short years, I won’t even remember you existed.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Eva

This is the worst I’ve ever felt.

Heartbroken. Worn out. Slightly hungover, even though we didn’t drink last night. Maybe it’s just an emotional hangover, but it feels as real as anything.

Damn it. It was good to be in his bed.

Better to be in his arms.

And the best thing in the world to be there for him when he needed me.

Now all I can hear is his voice. It’s over, sweetheart. We had a good time, but that’s all this ever was. I wish I could say I’ll miss you, but the truth is that I won’t. In a few short years, I won’t even remember you existed.

I feel worse than I did fourteen years ago. In my youth I believed I was in love, but it wasn’t real. It was infatuation and perhaps even a little bit of daddy issues. Now I’m older. I can tell the difference between what’s fake and what’s love.

What I feel for Finn Hughes is love.

That doesn’t go away no matter how badly he hurt me.

The farther my driver gets from the Hughes estate, the worse I feel. I’m not prone to getting carsick. Now every turn makes me queasy. My stomach threatens to revolt, though I didn’t eat breakfast. What the hell?

I crack one of the windows and breathe cool, fresh air.

My stomach calms a little, but I’m still heavy with other emotions.

My lavender clutch contains my cell phone and my credit cards. But it’s now short by twenty-five cents. I left the quarter on his bedside table. The original quarter that he tossed to me in a bet.

I suppose I could add foam to my Starbucks order tomorrow.

There won’t be any foam for me. It wasn’t a good time, after all.

It’s heartbreak, but something else.

Dread.

Some detail I’m missing.

Which is out of character. I don’t miss details. Things don’t just slip my mind. I suppose in all the chaos around the fake engagement and the baby shower, something could have. An appointment? A meeting I’ve scheduled in the next fifteen minutes?

I fumble for my phone.

The sensation sets in. I’m late for something. But there’s nothing on the calendar for today.

It would be normal to curl up and sob about what Finn did.

Heartbreak hurts, but this is…

More.

It feels like my loft is getting caught in a tornado. All my great-aunt’s antiques smashing to the floor. It feels huge and uncontrollable. Not like my emotions normally are. Except when it’s that time of the month.

Except…

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