“And Colin? Does he feel the same way about you?”

Amanda nodded, more tears filling her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Emma. God, this is so screwed up.”

Emma sighed. She felt wrung out. Exhausted. Heartsore. “I should have broken things off with Colin a long time ago. I’ve been living in a dreamworld, acting like everything is fine, holding on to him because he was my own personal safety net. I was in the relationship for all the wrong reasons.”

“Tell me what to do to make this right, Emma.”

“I can’t make everything better for you on your timetable, Amanda,” she said, frustration entering her tone. “That’s not fair to expect it.”

Amanda swallowed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose you, and I’m scared.”

“I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. We’ll eventually get past this. But right this second, I’m just . . . really tired. I’m going to bed.”

Amanda nodded, tears leaking down her cheeks. Emma was usually her comforter. But there was nothing she could say to soothe her little sister at that moment. She was too confused herself, and her frothing emotions and thoughts had nothing to do with Colin.

Saturday morning, she finally sat down with Amanda to talk, knowing her sister wouldn’t rest until she eradicated her guilty conscience. Given Amanda’s red eyes and pale complexion, she had a feeling her sister had been up crying all night again. Besides, Emma couldn’t help but be curious about the circumstances between her sister and Colin.

“So your feelings have been growing stronger ever since the two of you have been spending so much time together?” Emma asked after listening to Amanda’s emotional confessions over morning tea.

“We have a lot in common. You know I’m interested in forensic medicine, and he’s learning so many amazing things in his new job. Plus, we’re so comfortable together.”

“And that’s what you want? Comfortable?” Emma asked dubiously.

“Well yeah. Who doesn’t?” Amanda said, as if it were obvious. “But I never planned to act on the feelings I was getting for him, Emma. Please believe me. I never will again, if you say the word, despite the way I feel about him. The other night, it just . . . happened. You’ll never know how terrible I felt, seeing you standing there, imagining what you were thinking of me.” Emma had the rather random, uncharitable thought that Amanda looked absolutely gorgeous even with her face all red and splotchy and her long hair pulled back in a haphazard bun.

Emma sighed. “If you really like Colin, you shouldn’t just give up on the whole thing because of me. It’s like I told you yesterday, you’ll always be my sister.”

“But . . . but what about you and Colin?” Amanda asked in a quavering voice.

“It’s over. It’s like I said last night. We were comfortable together. There was no real romance. What happened last night just brought all that to the forefront. What are you going to do in regard to him?”

“I don’t know. I’m so confused.”

“Yeah? Join the club,” Emma said under her breath.

“I’ll be starting school in the fall. You know how hard the program is going to be. I don’t have time for a relationship.”

“This is one decision I can’t help you with. You’ll have to decide on your own. But don’t not be with Colin because you’re worried I’m still in love with him. I’m not,” Emma said with finality, pushing back her chair.

“Do you think you can ever forgive me?” Amanda asked shakily.

Unbidden, a vision of her mother popped into her mind’s eye, her face sad. Worried.

God, Mom would hate this.

“I’m going to work on it,” Emma said honestly, briskly drying an errant tear with her thumb. “I’m going to try for Mom and for us. You’re too important to me not to try. But forgiveness is a process, not a snap decision. Don’t push it, Amanda.”

Later, after Amanda had gone to wash up, Emma sat at the kitchen table with her computer in front of her, mindlessly checking e-mails and reading some articles on the Internet, trying to relax a little on her day off.

A few minutes later, she squinted at the computer screen, reading intently, certain phrases popping out at her more than others.

Automobiles Montand, French car company based in Antibes, France, that manufactures some of the most sought-after luxury sports cars and racecars in the world . . .

. . . Michael Montand (Sr.), French, founded the company in 1959 . . .

. . . Michael Montand (Jr.), American, sole owner and current chief executive officer of Automobiles Montand in addition to being founder and chief executive officer of Montand Motorworks, located in Deerfield, Illinois . . . exclusive maker of engines, intake manifolds, and carburetors for luxury sports cars and racecars . . . founder and backer of the world-class, experimental road race, The Montand French-American Grand Prix, to be held on the French Riviera . . .

She clicked on a link and a recent Chicago Tribune article popped up on the screen. Her gaze immediately stuck on the image of Montand at a podium, two gleaming stock cars on display behind him. He looked sober and compelling in a tuxedo, his hands braced on the podium, his posture suggesting the intensity and focus she’d come to expect from him.

Montand Motorworks Brings American Racing to the Côte d’Azur, the headline read.

She checked the date of the article. It was July 17, the date when he’d called her to him in the Breakers dining room, she realized, recognizing the tux in the photo. This was the publicity event he’d described, the one with the “vampires,” as he’d called them. If he disliked high-profile events such as the premiere road-racing grand prix he’d organized on the French Riviera, he must be uncomfortable a lot of the time.

“Emma?”

Emma started, glancing around when Amanda said her name. She hadn’t really been aware of her intention to Google Montand’s name.

“Yeah?” she asked Amanda, shutting her computer lid guiltily, which was stupid. It was only natural that she was curious about him, after all. It wasn’t every day she was set on fire by a gorgeous, aloof, cynical billionaire who kissed her like he thought she was his last meal on earth, and then rejected her like he’d realized she was poison.

“You’re not going to believe who’s here,” Amanda said in a hushed tone, looking stunned.

Emma’s heart lurched. Surely it wasn’t—

“Toby Martin,” Amanda whispered, glancing pointedly over her shoulder.

Emma’s hopes plummeted back to earth with a crash. Did she honestly think Michael Montand would show up at her front door?

God, you’re stupid sometimes.

Toby Martin was the name of their apartment maintenance man. He was the only maintenance man for more than two hundred apartments spread out over Evanston, Skokie, and northern Chicago. Their cheap-wad landlord refused to hire an adequate number of employees to service his units.

“He’s here to do our repairs,” Amanda hissed disbelievingly. “All of them.”

“Well miracles do happen,” Emma said after a stunned moment.

Colin had left at least a dozen messages on her phone since Thursday night along with another half dozen texts.

I know you’re pissed, and you have every right to be, but please let me explain.

I know what it looked like, but it wasn’t that . . . or it was, but not as bad as whatever you’re probably thinking. Please just call me so we can meet and I can explain in person. Emma? PLEASE?

Look, I know things are over between us. But would you at least call and let me know you’re okay? I’m getting worried.

Emma knew she couldn’t keep putting him off. She had to get this over with. Besides, she felt a little guilty after hearing the desperate quality of his tone and messages. He imagined her betrayed, furious, and depressed. She was set off balance and angry, but it was strange to realize what had happened with Colin and Amanda was only a small part of her odd state. Colin had been part of the fabric of her life for years now, as much a part of her existence as Amanda. The fact that Colin and Amanda were interested in each other sexually and romantically definitely changed things, adding to that sense of shifting ground and a precarious future.