“Okay, okay. You’re talking about Wyatt, right?”

Erin blinked and wiped under one eye. “Of course I’m talking about Wyatt. Who else?”

Julie sighed. “All right. I’m coming over with chocolate and wine, a surefire cure for whatever ails you, even PMS.”

“Chocolate and wine?” Erin laughed through her tears. “It is Sunday afternoon. I’m off duty. A girls night sounds like just what the doctor ordered.”

“Awesome. While you’re waiting for me to get there, run a hot bath, strip off your clothes, and sink down in the water until it’s up to your chin. It’ll relax you and make you feel a little better. I promise.”

Erin ended the call and went to her bedroom. After adjusting the water temperature on the garden tub, she rummaged in her pajama drawer for something besides an oversize T-shirt and sweatpants. When she found nothing, not even a top and bottom that matched, she almost started to cry again. Most women had at least a few lingerie items. The fact that she didn’t pretty much said it all. She wasn’t sexy. She did love lacy underthings, but that was mainly because nobody ever saw them.

She decided on a green-and-yellow University of Oregon T-shirt and a pair of athletic pants. Then, as Julie had suggested, she shucked off her clothes, caught her hair up in a band at the top of her head, and slipped into the water. As liquid heat surrounded her body, she sighed and decided Julie was right. She already felt better. She closed her eyes, forced her muscles to relax, and just breathed deeply for a minute before she turned the faucet off. Then she gave herself a pep talk.

“Why do you care if Wyatt detests you?” she asked herself. “Like he’s the be-all and end-all of your existence or something? Don’t be juvenile. You don’t need a man in your life. It was probably a woman like you who invented vibrators.”

She was still talking herself down when she heard the front door open. Julie yelled, “Hi, honey! I’m home!”

Erin called back, “I’m still in the tub! Pour us each a glass of wine. I’ll be right out.”

After giving herself a quick wash, Erin rinsed and vacated the tub. She toweled dry, slipped on her pathetic excuse for pajamas, and walked barefoot through the house. Just outside the kitchen archway, Julie had dumped her purse and an overnight case on the floor. She now stood at the counter, unloading her purchases from paper shopping bags.

“I’m staying the night,” she said, flipping back her long, dark hair with a jerk of her head. “If I’m going to get hammered, which I definitely plan on doing, I shouldn’t drive home. So I brought a change of clothes so I can go straight from here to my shop in the morning.” Then her gaze sharpened on Erin’s face. “Oh, boy. You aren’t a pretty crier. Your face is so red and puffy, you look like you’re having an allergic reaction.”