Sunset In Central Park. Sarah Morgan

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      Seeing it, Frankie felt a flash of guilt.

      She should keep her mouth shut. Eva loved dreaming and Paige was newly engaged. She needed to keep her thoughts on marriage to herself.

      “It will be different for you and Jake,” she mumbled. “You’re one of those rare couples that are perfect together. Ignore me. I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t be.” Paige waved her hand and the diamond glinted again. “You and I don’t want the same thing, and that’s fine.”

      “I’m a killjoy.”

      “You’re the child of divorced parents. And it wasn’t a happy divorce. We all have a different perspective on life, depending on our own experience.”

      “I know I overreact, though. It wasn’t even my divorce.”

      Paige shrugged. “But you lived through the fallout. It would be crazy to think that wouldn’t affect you. It’s like washing a red sock with a white shirt. Everything ends up tainted.”

      Frankie gave a half smile. “Am I the white shirt in that analogy? Because I’m not sure I’m white-shirt material.”

      Eva studied her. “I agree. I’d say you were more of a combat jacket.”

      “Robyn has gone upstairs to fix her makeup.” Paige steered the conversation back to work. “The guests will be arriving any minute. I’m going to talk to them.”

      “We’re canceling?”

      “No. We’re going ahead, but now it’s not a bridal shower—it’s a party. A celebration of friendship.”

      Frankie relaxed slightly. Friendship she could cope with. “Nice. How did you pull that one off?”

      “I pointed out that friends are there for the bad times as well as the good. They were invited to share the good, but if they’re true friends they’ll be right there by her side for the bad.”

      “And bad times are always improved by champagne, sunshine and strawberries,” Eva said. “Here she comes.”

      Frankie reached for the next pitcher of flowers and Paige put her hand out to stop her.

      “Those are beautiful. What are you doing?”

      “The flowers are supposed to match the mood of the occasion, and these are too bridal.”

      Without waiting for Paige’s approval, Frankie tossed the bridal Queen Anne’s lace into the border and watched as the flowers hit the dirt.

      She tried not to think of it as symbolic.

      The three friends arrived home an hour or so before the sun was due to set.

      Sweaty, irritable and miserably unsettled by the events of the day, Frankie searched in her purse for her keys.

      “If I don’t get inside in the next five seconds I’m going to melt right here.”

      Paige paused by the front door. “Despite everything, it went well.”

      “He dumped her,” Eva murmured, and Paige frowned.

      “I know. I was talking about the event. That went well. We should celebrate. Jake’s coming over. Why don’t we all meet up on the roof terrace for a drink?”

      Frankie didn’t feel like celebrating. “Not tonight. I have a date with a good book.” She wasn’t going to think about how Robyn Rose was feeling. She wasn’t going to worry about whether she was all right or whether she’d ever have the courage to love again. That wasn’t her problem.

      Fumbling, she dropped the key and saw Eva exchange a glance with Paige.

      “Are you all right?”

      “Of course. Just tired. Long day in the heat.” And part of that heat had come from being exposed to a boiling cauldron of emotions. Frankie retrieved the key and wiped her forehead with her palm.

      “You should wear a skirt,” Eva said. “You would have been cooler.”

      “You know I never wear skirts.”

      “You should. You have great legs.”

      Frankie made a blind stab at the door but it wouldn’t open. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      “All right, but we thought you might need distraction after the bridal shower so we bought you something.” Paige dug her hand into her bag, the bag that held everything from cleanser to duct tape. “Here.” She handed over a parcel and Frankie took it, touched by the gesture.

      “You bought me a book?” She opened it and felt a thrill of excitement. Her bad mood evaporated. “It’s the new Lucas Blade! It’s not out for another month. How did you get this?” Almost salivating, she held it against her chest. She wanted to sit down and start reading right away.

      “Eva is well connected.”

      Eva’s cheeks dimpled into a smile. “I mentioned to dear Mitzy that you love his work, and she used her power as a grandmother to force him to sign you a copy, although why you want to read a book called Death Returns I do not know. I’d be up all night screaming. The only good thing about that book is his photo on the jacket. The guy is insanely hot. Mitzy wants to introduce me to him, but I’m not sure I want to meet a man who writes about murder for a living. I don’t think we’d have much in common.”

      “It’s signed?” Frankie opened the book and saw her name in bold black scrawl. “This is so cool. I was thinking of preordering it but the price is shocking because he’s so successful. I can’t believe you did this.”

      “Your idea of horror is a bridal shower or a wedding, but you did it anyway,” Eva said, “so we wanted to treat you tonight. This is our thank-you. If it scares you and you want company, bang on the door.”

      Frankie felt her throat thicken. This was friendship. Understanding someone. “I hope it does scare me. That’s what it’s supposed to do.”

      Eva shook her head, bemused. “I love you, but I will never understand you.”

      Frankie smiled. Maybe not understanding. Maybe friendship was loving someone even when you didn’t always understand them. “Thanks,” she muttered. “You guys are the best.”

      The key finally slid into the lock and she stepped into the sanctuary of her apartment. She closed the door and the first thing she did was pull off her glasses. The frames were heavy and she rubbed her nose gently with her fingers and walked through to her pretty living room. The space was small, but she’d furnished it well, with a few good pieces she’d found on the internet. There was an overstuffed sofa that she’d rescued and covered herself, but what she loved most about her apartment were the plants. They crowded every available surface, a rainbow of greens with splashes of color, leading the eye toward the small garden.

      She’d turned the small enclosed space into a leafy refuge.

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