LITMIR.BIZ

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word. She couldn’t imagine Nick with anyone but Lexi.

      “Turned out Nick had never actually proposed, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” Lexi shot Betsy a wry smile, then continued. “Nick and I talked, and we decided he should go to Dallas. We hoped that being back on his home turf would jog his memory. If he ended up wanting his old girlfriend, I told him I’d understand.”

      “But he didn’t.” Betsy already knew this story’s ending. “He chose you.”

      “Yes.” Lexi’s lips lifted in a smile. “And happily his old girlfriend found her own true love, too.”

      The story was fascinating, but Betsy had a feeling there was a point to the tale she’d missed.

      “Is there something about what happened with you and Nick that you think relates to Ryan and me?” Betsy cleared her throat. “Because the two situations couldn’t be more different.”

      “Nick and I encountered an issue that could have torn us apart, but we faced it together. We discussed how we were going to handle it...together.” There was a challenge in Lexi’s eyes. “You and Ryan need to face whatever is going on in your life together.”

      “He doesn’t—” Betsy began, then stopped, remembering what he’d said to her. “I don’t—”

      “You don’t what? Love him? Rubbish. I’ve seen how you look at him.” Lexi chuckled. “And Ryan is in love with you.”

      “Stop it, Lexi,” Betsy said, a hint of desperation in her tone.

      She didn’t want to talk about Ryan’s love for her. All that did was remind her of how much she’d lost. And, if it was true, if Ryan really loved her, then she’d hurt him when she’d broken things off. For some reason that made her sacrifice seem almost selfish.

      No. No. She’d done the right thing.

      “I know I’ve never seen him like this with any other woman.”

      A chill traveled up Betsy’s spine. The social worker speculating in the privacy of the car was one thing. If Lexi mentioned any of this to Ryan—

      “This is not your business, Lex,” Betsy said firmly. “Stay out of it.”

      The gorgeous brunette seemed more amused than offended by Betsy’s blunt admonition.

      “Sorry, I can’t promise that.” The words had barely left Lexi’s lips when a car containing her husband and daughters drove up. The social worker opened the car door and stepped out but didn’t immediately walk away. She leaned down and met Betsy’s gaze head on. “I care about you. And I care about Ryan. If I find out there’s something I can do to help this situation, I’m going to do it.”

      Betsy watched Lexi join her family, a sick feeling in her stomach. If Lexi discovered her motive for breaking up with Ryan and decided to tell him, her interference could cost Ryan his career. And then all of Betsy’s sacrifices would be for naught.

      * * *

      The sun had set by the time Betsy arrived home. She hurried to the front door of her apartment, eager to be inside. The key turned easily in the lock. Perhaps a little too easily. Normally, it might have given Betsy pause, but right now all she wanted was to feed Puffy, then collapse in a chair.

      She headed toward the kitchen, noticing she’d left on the light. When she reached the archway to the room, Puffy ran to greet her. Betsy picked the dog up, then stopped in her tracks.

      “Dinner should be ready in five minutes.” Ryan turned from the stove. “I hope you like Hamburger Helper. Potatoes Stroganoff is my signature dish.”

      Since she’d last seen him, Ryan had changed into jeans and a gray Denver Broncos sweatshirt. His smile was bright—too bright—and Betsy noticed the lines of tension around his eyes.

      Her heart twisted. The last thing she’d wanted to do was hurt him. But she had. She’d hurt both of them. “How did you get in?”

      “You gave me a key.” He returned his attention to the skillet on the stove. “Remember?”

      “I’m going to need that back.” She held out her hand but he didn’t look up. After a moment she dropped the hand back to her side.

      Suddenly incredibly tired of the drama, Betsy sat down, hugging Puffy close. But it wasn’t long before the Pom began to squirm. The second Betsy released her hold, the dog jumped to the floor and trotted to stand by Ryan.

      It only figured Puffy would abandon her in her hour of need. How many times had her mother bailed on her? Keenan? Even Aunt Agatha. She’d died without warning. Betsy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry watching the little dog cozy up to Ryan.

      He patted Puffy on the head, then stepped from the stove to the counter where a bottle and two wineglasses sat. With well-practiced ease he uncorked the bottle, then filled each glass halfway. “A full-bodied red should go nicely with the Stroganoff.”

      Ryan held out a glass to her.

      Betsy shook her head even as she glanced longingly at the wine.

      “Take it.” His eyes softened. “You look like you could use a glass.”

      “I need to feed Puffy and take her outside.” Betsy sighed. “She’s been cooped up in the apartment all day—”

      “Already done.” Ryan placed the glass before her on the table.

      “You shouldn’t—”

      “I shouldn’t what?” His even tone took on a hard edge. “Care about you and Puffy?” He paused and gentled his tone. “Sorry, that’s not possible.”

      “I think you should leave.” Betsy tried, but there was no conviction in her voice.

      “And I think you should lie down and rest,” he said. “But because neither of those seem likely, let’s have a nice meal with a glass of wine or two.”

      “But—”

      “I’m your friend, Betsy. Give me at least some respect.”

      Betsy was too tired to argue, too tired to put up a stink and toss him out. The headache that had started when she’d been in the attorney’s office and had grabbed hold when she’d cried in the car, now pounded just behind her left eye.

      She rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. “I guess you can stay.”

      “You have a headache.” The comment was made as an observation rather than as a question.

      Betsy closed her eyes for a second. “Uh-huh.”

      Moments later he appeared at her side with a glass of cola and four tablets of ibuprofen.

      She glanced down at the pills. “Four? And with a cola?”

      “Four is eight hundred milligrams, which is prescription strength. And when you take them with a cola, it has a synergistic effect.”

      Betsy narrowed her gaze.

      He smiled. “Hey, my sister used to get migraines, and if she caught them early enough by taking the ibuprofen and caffeine she didn’t have to take her prescription meds.”

      Betsy popped the pills into her mouth and took a big drink of cola. At this point she’d give anything a try.

      “Why don’t you lie down?” He took the glass of cola she handed him without shifting his gaze from her face. “The food and wine will keep. And don’t worry about Puffy, I’ll keep her occupied.”

      Betsy wasn’t worried about Puffy at all. She was concerned about Ryan being in her apartment, acting as if he belonged there. And about her still wishing he did.

      But would a few minutes more really make that much difference? No, she decided, it wouldn’t. She jerked to her feet and made it to her bedroom on autopilot. Slipping off her shoes, Betsy pulled back the

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