Over and over Addison replayed the events of the week in her mind, trying to discover what mistake she had made, and shaking her head, she reached for the decanter again. Dulled by scotch, she misjudged the distance, and the crystal crashed to the floor. “Fuck!”

Addison pushed herself out of the chair. Mindless of the glass all over the floor, she trudged to the credenza for whatever liquor remained, but as she reached for another decanter, she stopped. There was no amount of alcohol that could deaden the ache in her heart. She had never felt such pain before, and she longed not to feel ever again.

For two days she had tried to erase the haunting pang of loneliness and confusion with liquor, but it hadn’t worked. She didn’t crave what the decanters held. What she craved existed one floor above her head. With fists clenched, Addison walked from the room and headed upstairs.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The tea on the nightstand had long since lost its heat and the book Joanna had once so anxiously wanted to read had been tossed aside. Her laptop was quiet atop the tallboy, and Chauncey laid at her feet, his little chest rising and falling as he slumbered away.

She felt so tired, but as she rested against pillows of down, sleep refused to come. Instead, as she had done for most of the week, Joanna stared off into space as if it held the answer.

Jolted from her thoughts when a growl rose in Chauncey’s throat, before Joanna could stop him, he scrambled to his feet and began to bark.

“Chauncey, be quiet,” Joanna whispered, but then she heard a light knock on the door and her heart stopped. Her first thought was not to respond, but when she heard another faint rap against the woodwork, Joanna groaned. “Come in.”

The door swung open, and Addison filled the space. Although she was dressed as if she could return to the office at any minute, her tie was loose and slightly off-kilter.

As soon as Chauncey saw Addison, he ran to the edge of the bed, jumping around like his paws were on hot coals. Yapping, yapping, and yapping again, he didn’t stop until Joanna snapped her fingers.

“Chauncey, go to your bed,” Joanna said.

The pup darted over to Joanna, and clambering up her chest, gave her a few quick licks before jumping down and trotting to the corner of the room. Stepping into his fleece-lined bed, he spun around a half-dozen times before finally snuggling into the softness and closing his eyes.

Joanna let out an exaggerated sigh as she looked toward the door. “It’s late, Addison. What do you want?”

Addison bowed her head and raised her eyes. “I need you,” she said in a breath.

“I’m not in the mood to be manhandled or womanhandled, for that matter.”

“What did I...please tell me...tell me what I did wrong.”