“I cannot be with people right now. Even you. Sorry.” She was so worked up, she couldn’t get her fingers to open the bottle.

“Okay. But what are you going to do? I’m worried you’re going to spend all night drinking yourself into a stupor.” Lacy held her palm out toward Andy, silently asking for the bottle.

“That was this afternoon. And I’m not drinking anymore.” With a heavy sigh, Andy handed the medicine to her sister. “I’m actually planning to do nothing but sit on the couch and watch some sad chick flick and probably eat a whole carton of Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Equally destructive behavior, but I guess you’re allowed a day of that.” Lacy dropped two pills into Andy’s hand.

Andy closed her fist around the ibuprofen and snatched her hand away. “Allowed? Damn right, I’m allowed. Not all of us can bury our heartache like you.” She swallowed the pills in one gulp that she pretended also removed the horrible thing she’d just said.

She closed her eyes tight. Stupid, stupid, stupid. When she opened her eyes again, she looked to her sister, whose head was down. “Lacy, I’m sorry. That was really uncalled for.” God, she was such a bitch. She had no reason to take her anger out on Lacy. “See? I’m not suitable company.”

Lacy brought her face up, her expression blank, giving nothing away. “You know what, though? You’re right. I don’t deal with my emotions well. I’m working on it, in my own way, and I’ve so appreciated that you haven’t pushed me.”

Now Andy felt like an even bigger bitch. She hadn’t pushed Lacy to deal with her grief because she was lazy and self-centered—not because she was trying to be thoughtful of her space. Tears pricked at her eyes. “I’ve been a horrible sister.”

“Nope. You’ve been exactly what I needed. So. Whatever you need to do, do it. I’ll respect your methods of dealing with this. And I’m here for you if you need me.”

Andy pulled her sister into a giant hug. “God, I love you, Lacy. So much.”

They held each other for several long moments before breaking away. Though it didn’t fix everything—or anything, really—it did make life seem just a bit more bearable. Assuming, of course, her sister meant what she said. The guilt could almost overwhelm the pain if she thought like that.

“You’re going to be good then? I could call and cancel if—”

“No,” Andy said, cutting her off. “Go. Have fun. Take a cab home if it gets too late. My phone’s off, but I’ll check it later if you need to text or leave a message.”

“Got it, Mom.”

Andy stayed in the kitchen until she heard the front door shut behind Lacy. Then she grabbed a can of diet soda from the fridge and headed to the living room. Despite the heartwarming moment she’d shared with her sister, Andy was still angry. And her rage was snowballing. So much so that she couldn’t sit still. She paced the apartment, wanting to punch something, kick something. The feeling was so strong, she imagined she could hear her anger taken out like hailstones pelleting against her window. Plink, plink, plink.

Maybe that wasn’t her imagination.

She froze, listening. The sound came again. Plink. There actually were hailstones pelleting against her window. Or some sort of stone anyway. Cautiously she approached the windows and peered out. The sight that greeted her pulled at her heartstrings, melting her ever so slightly.

Then, she remembered … everything … and she hardened again. So far she’d managed to leave Donovan InfoTech with her referral intact. But Blake Donovan was outside her apartment. If he didn’t leave soon, she wasn’t sure she could maintain that status.

Chapter Twenty-one

Blake searched for another handful of stones from the landscaping around the building. He knew this was a childish method of reaching Andrea, but her phone was going straight to voice mail and the front door was locked. It was only when he’d seen her pacing back and forth in the windows above that he’d resorted to throwing pebbles at her window.

If he was going to feel like a middle schooler in the throes of first love, who cared if he acted like one? Plus, there was something so satisfying about each little ping that he’d never gotten from an email ping.

He was preparing to pelt another round at her darkened window when he realized she was already watching him. “Andy,” he called, both desperate and excited. “Andy Dawson.”

She lifted the window up and yelled down to him through the crack of screen she’d exposed. “Go away, Blake Douche-ovan!”

Well, that wasn’t the greeting he’d hoped for, but he hadn’t expected her to be welcoming, either. Not after the way she’d walked out on him that afternoon.

That was fine. He was in this for the long haul. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk, Andy. Let me up.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Well, I do.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Are you sure about that?” He got his answer when she pulled the blinds down. Dammit. Not the answer he’d assumed. “Come on, Andrea.” Then the blinds in the next set of windows went down. “Andy!”

“Hey,” a voice said from the apartment below the Dawsons’. “Could you hold it down out here? Some people are trying to—Blake Donovan? Are you fucking serious?”

Blake squinted at the woman. “You!” No wonder the area had seemed familiar. It was where one of his dates lived. He always Google Earthed, even if it was in private. Joey, was it? Or Joy?

“I’m Jaylene,” she said, with a roll of her eyes.

“Right, right.” Stupid name, anyway. “Don’t you live—” He glanced at the next building, confused. He was good with addresses, and he was sure that on the night of their horrid date he’d dropped her off one house down.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m next door. I’m … visiting someone.”

Blake saw a man behind her. And he was missing his shirt. Ah, well, maybe there really was someone for everyone. Even though he was certain there was a woman for this one.

“Anyway, it’s kind of late. Could you keep it down?”

He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t yet ten. What was she talking about kind of late? City ordinances wouldn’t even fine him until eleven. He was about to argue it when he realized instead that she was his key into the building. “I’ll stop my shouting if you’ll buzz me in. I need to see Andrea.”

“Buzz you in?” She seemed confused.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other trying to stifle his impatience. “Through the main door.”

“There’s no buzzer. It doesn’t lock.”

She was crazy. He’d tried it when he first arrived and it was most certainly locked.

“Wait there a moment, will you?” He hurried up the stairs, twisted the knob, and pushed in. It wouldn’t budge. “See? Locked.”

“It’s a pull, not a push.” She said something else that he couldn’t quite hear, but he sensed it was along the lines of, You idiot.

Blake gritted his teeth before he let out a string of his own insults and pulled on the door. It opened. Well, that was dumb. Didn’t outer doors always open inward? And why wasn’t the door locked? That didn’t make for a secure environment. He’d be sure to call the building’s owner and get that fixed tomorrow. Whatever happened between him and Andrea personally, he still wanted her safe.

For the moment, though, he was happy to be inside. He took the stairs two at a time and found her door. He pounded loudly. “Andrea. Let me in.” No sound of movement came from inside so he pounded again. “Let me in. Please, Andy.”

The sound of a door creaking open drew his attention downstairs. Great. The femi-Nazi again. He noticed now she was clad only in a tank top and yoga pants. She leaned against her door frame, watching him, her arms folded across her chest.

The woman was infuriating even when he wasn’t on a date with her. He felt sorry for the man she was “visiting.” Bearding, likely. He muttered under his breath and tried to block out his audience of one as he pounded again. Still, the door didn’t open.