Zach shoved money in the driver’s hand and raced into the hotel lobby.

“Could you ring Grace Rowan’s room please?” Zach asked the hotel desk clerk.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we have no one registered under that name.”

Zach swore under his breath. Had he heard Grace wrong? Unless…

“Try Grace Easton.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll call her room for you.”

Zach sagged with relief. The clerk dialed her room number. After what seemed an interminable amount of time passed, he hung up the phone. “I’m sorry, sir. She doesn’t seem to be in. Would you care to leave a message?”

Zach decided his course of action that instant. “I’ll wait for her.”

He found a seat in the lobby that afforded him a clear view of the entrance. He stared at the elegant revolving doors, trying not to let their endless spinning hypnotize him.

Now that he was finally at her hotel his heart was still racing as if he’d run the whole way there. Why was Grace here? What on earth had she come for? He knew her. She’d always been brave enough to deliver bad news face-to-face. But he’d already heard the bad news. So why?

It didn’t matter, he told himself. Whatever the reason he would get to see her. That was reason enough to wait in the lobby. Forever, if necessary.

* * *

Two hours after falling asleep with the combs in her hand, Nora crawled from her bed and showered and dressed in a daze. Numb from exhaustion, exhausted from shock, she entered the kitchen on feet made of lead. Wesley was there loudly opening and closing cabinet doors.

“What are you looking for?” she asked between slams.

“My coffee thermos. The blue one with the lid.” His voice sounded tight and strained.

“Did you check the dishwasher?”

Wesley stopped, wrenched opened the door of the dishwasher and yanked out the top rack.

“Dishwasher,” he said, as much to himself as her. “Right. Of course. How could I have been so completely stupid?”

Nora winced and sat down gingerly at the table. It hurt to be in the same room with him. Wesley leaned against the counter for a moment and just breathed.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked in a small voice.

“I want to be. I oughta be.” He shook his head. “No, I’m not mad at you. Just myself.”

She nodded and met his eyes.

“Are you sad at me?”

He released a cold, empty laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sad at you.” She could tell he was trying not to cry. She tried, too.

“I’m sorry, Wes. I am. God, you said you wanted your first time to be with someone who knew what she was doing. Obviously when it comes to you I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t care. There’s no one else I want to be with. But if you want to be with Zach…I just want you to be happy. That’s all that matters.”

“Listen, last night with Zach—it was about the book. I went over to his apartment yesterday to throw the book in his face, to show him it was done. I was going to leave. He asked me to stay, to help him finish editing it. We got it all done in one night.”