“So that’s it? You’re going to walk out on an injured husband in his hour of crisis?”

“You wouldn’t be injured if you hadn’t been driving recklessly. I heard the officers talking in the ER after they brought you in. This”—she swept a hand over the bed—“and everything else is your fault. Not mine. My lawyer will be in touch.”

As soon as she hired one.

Turning her back, Meg walked out the door.

But once she reached the hall, she leaned against the wall and tried to shift her numb brain into gear.

Besides finding an attorney, she had to pack up her belongings and get out of the house before Steve was released from the hospital. Thank heaven she had a job, and money to pay for an apartment until whatever lawyer she found could sort through the mess and divvy up the assets.

What a sad end to the fairy tale life she’d envisioned.

Her vision misted, and she sniffed. She should have known this wouldn’t end well.

Nothing in her life had ever been a fairy tale.

“Are you okay?”

At the question, she blinked and straightened up. One of the nurses had stopped beside her, faint furrows denting her brow.

Okay?

Not even close.

But she couldn’t admit that to a stranger.

“Yes. Just . . . um . . . thinking about everything that has to get done.”

The woman offered her a sympathetic nod. “I hear you. Illness and accidents can overwhelm families. If you need any assistance, our social services department can recommend several resources.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine.”

Meg waited until the woman walked away. Then, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, she continued down the hall toward the elevator.

She would be fine. This setback wasn’t going to destroy her. She wouldn’t let it.

Maybe she wasn’t as smart or pretty or dynamic as Eve Reilly, but watching her high school acquaintance in action these past few months—and especially during the recent trauma—had been inspiring.

If you approached life with a can-do attitude, stuck with your principles, and stood up for yourself and what you believed in, life could be good.

Beginning today, she was going to follow in Eve’s footsteps.

And thanks to the radio station job, she had the financial wherewithal to walk away from Steve—and find her own happy ending.

Eve stood on tiptoe and felt around on the top shelf of her kitchen cabinet. Huffed out a breath.

Where had she put that box of little-used spices? Her dolmathes wouldn’t be the same without the distinctive hint of dill that gave her mother’s recipe its extra zing.

Between a blog post that was fighting her every step of the way, an air conditioner that was making odd noises, and now a key spice gone missing, this Tuesday had been a bust.