Broken Read online

  “I hope it didn’t break,” said the man at the table.

  “I think it’s fine.”

  His smile was crooked, but friendly. He pointed to the empty seat across from him. “This seat’s empty, if you don’t mind sharing.”

  I looked around, but there was no other place. I sat. “Thanks.”

  We stared at each other for a few moments, strangers at a table. I sipped my latte self-consciously, uncertain what to say. My new companion seemed in no mood to break the silence, either. His broad, pleasant smile urged me to return it.

  “I’m Greg, by the way.” He held out his hand, which I shook.

  “Sadie.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sadie.” His fingers squeezed mine briefly. His hand was very warm. In the next moment, so was my face.

  I was saved at that moment by the arrival of the sandwich I’d ordered, and a scant minute later, Greg’s salad and soup. Around us the chatter of conversation rose and fell. It seemed rude not to talk to him, so I did.

  It didn’t matter what we said. The weather was nice; yes, it was a shame about that fire downtown; of course the city needed new taxes like a cow needed a tennis racket. Greg carried the conversation without effort, leading me from topic to topic. The area became more and more crowded, necessitating us to move our chairs closer and closer. By the time we’d finished our lunches, we were sitting almost thigh to thigh.

  He didn’t touch me on purpose. It was clearly the fault of the man behind us, who laughed loudly and shook his chair, causing Greg’s leg to rub mine. Just as it was the fault of the café employee squeezing by us for making Greg have to lean forward with his hand on my shoulder to keep from being bonked on the head by a tray. The napkin holder, too, conspired against us, for refusing to give up a napkin without Greg’s manly help.

  Sitting next to Greg was like licking a battery. Shocking, sizzling and stupid. Each slight caress, every nonchalant stroke, echoed in the tightness of my nipples and the friction between my thighs. We danced, and if I fumbled the steps from lack of practice, Greg was a skilled enough partner to make up for it. I hadn’t thought it would be so easy to be seduced.

  I didn’t want this. I craved it. I couldn’t. I would.

  I didn’t.

  If he’d been Joe, we’d have ended up going to a hotel room, or at least back to his car. But…he wasn’t Joe, this wasn’t a story. It was real life, and when lunch was over, so was the flirtation. When the crowds cleared and there could be no excuse to linger, Greg stood. I did, too. His gaze fell on the band on my finger. I looked at his hand, which wore a similar ring.

  “It was nice meeting you, Sadie.”

  “You, too. Thanks for letting me share your table.”

  He had a nice smile, but the heat between us, if there had been any beyond my imagination, had faded. “Anytime.”

  I hadn’t done anything wrong, even less than in the hours I’d spent listening to Joe tell his tales of sexual excess. Yet I felt twice as bad as I’d ever felt about that, and it took me some hard thinking to figure out why. It came down to something simple. It wasn’t the stories but Joe himself I’d come to depend upon. Substituting a random, unexpected flirtation wasn’t harmless, not when it meant I was trying to replace something I’d come to care about very much with something pretending to be as important.

  The parking garage wasn’t the best place for contemplation, but with one hand on my car and the other holding my bag, I closed my eyes and let myself think about what I’d been avoiding all day. It was the first Friday of November and I hadn’t seen Joe. I might not ever see him again. The rest of my life would have no Joe in it. I’d lost something precious, and no matter how much things with Adam were changing, I missed what I’d had no right to have.

  “Dr. Danning?”

  I opened my eyes, turning, embarrassed at having been caught in such a socially awkward state. “Elle, hi!”

  If Elle had seen my close-eyed contemplation, she didn’t show it. “How are you?”

  “Busy,” I said with a small laugh designed to hide the shakiness of my voice. I stood up straight and offered my hand to Elle’s companion. “Hello, I’m Sadie Danning.”

  “This is my mother.” Elle took a deep breath. “We’ve been shopping.”

  “Have you?” I smiled. “That sounds nice.”

  Mrs. Kavanagh snorted. “Nice? If you like trudging around store after store and buying nothing, yes. Very nice.”

  Elle’s smile didn’t waver. “My mother thinks I need to update my wardrobe.”

  Comparing the two of them, I couldn’t agree. Elle’s mother might have been dressed in pieces of obvious expense and classic style, but Elle wore her simple black skirt and pale blue cardigan with far more class. I gave Elle’s arm a quick squeeze.

  “That’s a pretty sweater,” I told her. Yes, to make her mother grit her teeth.

  Elle beamed. “Dan bought it for me.”

  Again, Mrs. Kavanagh snorted. Elle gave her mother a narrow, sideways glance, which the older woman saw. “What?”

  “My mother,” said Elle with a serenity that could only have come from long practice, “thinks Dan’s tastes sucks.”

  “Language, Ella! Mother Mary!”

  Elle’s sweet smile remained unchanged as she shrugged innocently. I had to bite back a smile of my own. The heat in my cheeks started to fade.

  “Did Ella call you doctor?” Mrs. Kavanagh, perhaps sensing she couldn’t niggle her daughter any further on the subject of clothes, piped up. “What kind of doctor are you?”

  Before I could answer, Elle reached to touch my upper arm. “She was my shoulder.”

  I’ve been called many things in my life, but that was one of the nicest. The affection in her voice made my throat thick. “Thank you, Elle.”

  She nodded. Her mother looked confused, a state of mind in which I doubted she’d often found herself. She turned to her daughter with a frown.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Kavanagh the role I’d played in her daughter’s life if Elle didn’t want me to. Consequently, for a minute neither of us spoke. This didn’t sit well with Mrs. Kavanagh, who really needed a house dropped on her.

  “Ella?”

  “Dr. Danning was my doctor.”

  Silence while Mrs. Kavanagh assessed this. “Your…?”

  “My shrink, Mother.” Elle sounded exasperated and amused.

  The curl of Mrs. Kavanagh’s lip should have offended me, as should the looking over she gave me. I’d never been more aware of my shoes needing a polish or my stockings having snags as under Elle’s mother’s eagle eye. She sniffed.

  “Well.” She put more meaning into that single word than if she’d recited a soliloquy.

  “My mother doesn’t approve of psychologists,” Elle said. I don’t think I was mistaken about her glee.

  “I’ll try not to let that bother me,” I said. Elle and I laughed. Her mother, predictably, did not.

  “I’ll be waiting for you in the China Orchid,” Mrs. Kavanagh said, “if you want to…talk.”

  Talk or kick puppies, perhaps? She made both actions sound as horrible. Elle sighed and waited until her mother had gone out of earshot before she spoke.

  “Sorry about that. But I guess now you see what I mean.”

  “I never doubted you were telling me the truth,” I said. “How are things?”

  She laughed behind her hand, the sound echoing in the garage. “Much better, if you can believe it. With the wedding to plan she’s got caterers to give hell to. She leaves me alone. Sort of.”

  “Yes, that’s in a couple weeks. You must be excited.”

  Elle raised a brow. “That’s one way to put it. I’d have said sick to my stomach and ready to pull out my hair, but sure. Excited works.”

  We laughed again. Her smile softened. She touched my arm again, a gesture of some significance, since she was not the touchy-feely sort.

  “I miss our talks, Dr