For a time she lay awake, going over their conversation in her mind. Liam was right. It was time for her to stop being a spoiled, entitled baby. Grow up, survive, and move on. And be honest about who she was and whom she loved. That was all she could do. But sometimes being a grownup sucked.

What if she couldn’t measure up to Liam’s expectations? What if he was already falling out of love with her?

Why did she have to be so blasted insecure?

Closing her eyes, she sank into exhausted sleep.

* * *

After bringing Brianna home, Allison had been too keyed up to sleep. Now, in the darkness before dawn, she sat before the computer on Burke’s desk, studying the photos on the web page she’d brought up. Gentry and Smith, the lawyers Burke had recommended, were mother and daughter. Rae Ann Smith, the daughter, appeared to be in her midforties, thin and blond. With a beauty shop hairstyle and a friendly smile, she looked like somebody’s soccer mom. Her mother, Roberta, square-jawed with short, iron-gray hair, looked so much like the nurse who’d taken Allison aside in the hospital that they could have been sisters. Maybe they were. Either way, Allison liked what she saw. Both women were experienced and well qualified. And she sensed that Brianna might be more at ease with a woman lawyer than with a man.

Leaning back in her chair, she shut down the computer and massaged the back of her neck. She would call the law office as soon as they opened. She would also call her art dealer friend in San Francisco and ask him to find a buyer for her painting. Then it would be time to visit Burke in rehab. Meanwhile, as long as Brianna was asleep, a predawn walk might ease her strained nerves.

She was standing up to stretch when she remembered Kate’s letters in the desk. It was too soon to read another one—especially since the last letter had left her emotionally bruised. But if she planned to read more later, it might be wise to take them upstairs now. The guest room where Burke’s bed and exercise equipment would be set up was right across the hall. And Brianna would likely be around, too. Once he was home, reading the letters at the desk would become impossible.

Decision made, she opened the drawer and lifted the crumpled manila envelope out of the back. When she was finished with the letters, she would put them back where she’d found them.

Hearing no sound from Brianna’s room, she carried the envelope upstairs, slid it between the mattress and box spring, and went to the closet to get her running shoes.

* * *