“What’re you doing here? Janey’s wedding isn’t for two weeks yet.” She kept her hands busy straightening shelves that didn’t need straightening. A flash from the large diamond on her left hand sliced through him like a heated laser, leaving him breathless and anxious.

“I’ve come home. To stay.” As he said the words she’d waited years to hear, he braced himself for her fury. It was the least of what he deserved.

“Is that so?”

Grant took a step closer to her. “I’m home, Abby.”

“Your mother must be pleased.”

His mother? “Is she the only one?”

“Your dad, Janey and Mac, too, I assume.”

What the hell was wrong with her? Here he was telling her he’d finally left Los Angeles. He’d finally come home to her, and she didn’t really seem to care. How was that possible after the years they’d spent loving each other so passionately?

“What about you?” Another step closer. “Are you at all happy to see me?”

“Of course I am.” Her eyes flashed with emotion, which gave him hope. She began refolding a pile of perfectly folded Gansett Island T-shirts.

“I’m sorry for making you wait so long. I know now that was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone back last year after you told me how much you wanted to get married and have a family.”

“You did what you needed to,” she said in a flat emotionless tone he’d never heard from her before. “I certainly understand that.”

Grant reached out to stop her from refolding another shirt. “Abby, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “Everything is great with me. I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“But what about us?”

“There is no more us, Grant. I told you that a year ago. You made your choice, and I made mine. It’s over.”

He heard the words, but everything in him rejected them. “No. It’s not over.”

The bells on the door jingled again, and Grant bit back a swear of frustration. He wanted to tell whoever it was to get the hell out, but that would hardly help his case.

“Hey, darlin’,” a deep voice drawled behind Grant. “Brought you a caffeine boost. What a crazy night I had operating on a dog! Oh, sorry, didn’t see you had a customer.”

Right before Grant’s eyes, Abby lit up at the sight of the guy who’d brought the coffee. The fiancé, he presumed.

Grant pushed back his shoulders and turned to take in the competition. The guy was tall, he’d give him that, with blond hair—long blond hair. Since when did Abby go for the longhaired type? Muscular, blue-eyed and a goofy lovesick smile aimed at Abby that made Grant see red.

“Ahh, Cal. Come meet my old friend, Grant McCarthy. Grant, my fiancé, Dr. Cal Maitland.”