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  Nell put her chin down. “Give me those.”

  “No.” Tim stood stern and tall. “Absolutely not. You should see yourself, you look crazy.”

  “Give me those,” Nell said quietly, “or I will take them from you and beat you to death with them.”

  Tim gawked at her, and Nell reached out and wrenched one from his arms and swung it into the desk, feeling stronger with each explosion.

  “This is crazy.” Tim tried to scramble around her, and she grabbed another Icicle, tripping him as he went, and smashed it on the desk before turning to scoop up one he’d dropped as he’d staggered over her foot. She smashed that one, too, and then advanced on him for the last one, lusting after it more than she’d ever lusted after him.

  “I need that,” she said. “Give it to me.”

  “Stop it,” he said, clutching his last Icicle to his shirt. “For heaven’s sake, look at this mess.”

  “You think this is a mess?” Nell said. “Have you seen our family lately? Have you checked out our business? You smashed everything we’d built, everything we worked for, because you wanted to screw a size six. This”—she gestured to the glass-strewn office—“is nothing in comparison.”

  Although now that she looked around, the place was a pretty significant mess. His desk was destroyed. The window was cracked. The gray carpet was fall of crushed glass. She’d done some good work here.

  “There’s no need to be nasty.” Tim’s anger made him flush. “Whitney wears a two. And I lied for you and Jase,” he said, backing toward the door. “I didn’t want you to be hurt.”

  Nell stopped, dumbfounded, breathless with disbelief. “You didn’t want me to be hurt? You spend twenty-two years living with me, working with me, having a family with me, not a cloud in the sky, not a hint that anything is wrong, and then on Christmas you leave me, no explanation, the world suddenly makes no sense, and you think that won’t hurt?”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Tim said, taking a step forward.

  “I know it wasn’t my fault.”

  “It wasn’t because you weren’t attractive or young or understanding,” Tim went on. “I didn’t care about that.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” Nell said.

  “If I’d said, ‘There’s another woman,’ you’d have thought it was because you weren’t good enough.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have,” Nell said. “I’d have thought you were an unimaginative son of a bitch having a midlife crisis.”

  “But it wasn’t about you,” Tim said earnestly. “I just fell in love. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “So it’s all about you,” Nell said. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”

  “Yes!” Tim said, relieved that she understood. “It would have done you no good to know about Whitney, it would only have caused you pain. I did it for you.”

  “Were you always this much of a weasel?” Nell said. “Because I honest to God can’t remember.”

  “Nell, I know it’s a shock, but really, everything’s fine. You’re doing great, Jase is doing great, I’m happy.” He spread his arms to show forgiveness, the last Icicle in one hand. “ ’Course, I’m going to have to replace a lot of Icicles here.”

  Nell locked her eyes on the last Icicle and went after it, ignoring the crunch of the glass under her feet. “Give me that.”

  Tim shoved the Icicle at Peggy who was still standing frozen by the door. “Quick!” he said. “She’s lost her mind. Go lock that up.”

  Peggy took the last Icicle and looked at Nell, caught, and Nell stopped, equally caught, this time by reality. She looked around the office and felt like hell, not because she’d destroyed it, but because destroying it hadn’t helped. All she’d done was lower herself to his level. Now Peggy thought they were both scum.

  Tim nodded, stern and in control, the Face of Reason in a mint-green shirt and coordinated tie. “I’m so disappointed in you, Nell. And I know Peggy must be, too.”

  “Not really,” Peggy said and handed the last Icicle to Nell. “I quit.”

  She left as Tim said, “Peggy!”

  “You are such a loser,” Nell said, holding the last Icicle. “And I will never have to save you again.” With one final swing, straight from the shoulder, she smashed the last Icicle—flinching as a piece of it flew up and caught her on the cheek—and with it the last of her life with Tim.

  “You never saved me,” Tim said, any pretense of friendship gone. “I was the brains in the business. You were just the secretary.”

  “You can keep telling yourself that,” Nell said, “but it’s not going to help.”

  He stood behind the mutilated desk and looked at her as if he hated her, and she said, “Good. Now you know how I feel.”

  Then she walked out of her old office and her old life, completely at a loss about what to do next.

  * * *

  Nell tried to stay angry on her way to the McKennas, absentmindedly wiping blood from the cut on her cheek, but it didn’t work. Back in the office, she sat behind her desk and felt the ice creep into her veins. She wasn’t allowed to fix this place, wasn’t allowed to get the money back from Lynnie, wasn’t even allowed to go rescue that poor dog in New Albany. Every time she tried to get up to speed, some man slowed her down. She tried to be angry about that, but mostly she just felt tired. And she’d lost Peggy’s job for her, too. She called the office and got Peggy as she was leaving.

  “I’m so sorry,” Nell told her. “Don’t quit because of me.”

  “I’m not,” Peggy said. “I don’t want to work here anymore. Ever since Whitney took over your job, she’s driving me crazy. She doesn’t know what she’s doing because she’s just starting, and she makes mistakes and then gets mad at me if I fix them without checking with her, and then she gets even madder if I don’t fix them. I can’t win.”

  “I know how that feels,” Nell said. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’m going to be fine,” Peggy said. “Tim’s going to have problems, though.”

  “Good,” Nell said, but when she’d hung up, she slumped in her chair again. She tried to concentrate on her work, but when Gabe came out of his office a few minutes later, she was staring hopelessly into space.

  He started to say something and then stopped to stare at her. “What happened to your cheek?”

  Nell touched the cut. My old life happened to it. “Flying glass.”

  “Oh, hell, stay there,” Gabe said, his voice exasperated as usual. He went into the bathroom and came out with a damp paper towel and the first aid kit.

  “Really, it’s okay.” Nell rolled away from the desk a little. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re bleeding all over the office.” He hooked his foot around the bottom of her chair and pulled her back. “Sit still. This is the closest we’ve got to medical benefits, so take advantage of it.”

  He dabbed the cut clean and then smoothed antibiotic cream on her cheekbone, his fingers surprisingly gentle even while he scowled at her, so she sat quietly while he cut a tiny butterfly bandage to hold the cut closed, and tried not to enjoy being taken care of since it was sure to be a fleeting moment. She watched his eyes while he worked, intent on her, and when he was finished, he glanced at her and the glance caught. She stopped breathing for a minute because he was so close, and he froze, too, and then he said, “You’re done,” and sat back. “Now, where the hell did you find flying glass?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Nell touched the butterfly.

  “Yeah, I do. Am I missing another window?”

  “No,” Nell said and flushed. He sat watching her, waiting for something, and she finally spoke just to fill the silence. “Thank you for the first aid. I owe you.”

  “Good.” He stood up. “We’re collecting. We need you to work tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Nell shrugged as he took the first aid kit back into the bathroom. “Okay. Tell me what it is and I’ll do it now.”

  “Not secretarial,” he said as he came out aga