But beyond that, there was a small part of her that was curious. Did he miss her? As practical minded as she liked to think she was, the idea that there might be a man somewhere out there who was pining for her, potentially wracked with guilt and angst over the demise of their relationship, a man who’d spent hours pouring his heart and soul into this sentimental missive sitting unopened in her inbox between an e-mail from a DEA agent she worked with—subject: “Need a subpoena ASAP”—and an e-mail from Rae—subject: “OMG—DID YOU WATCH THE GOODWIFE LAST NIGHT???”—was heady indeed.
So she clicked on the message.
Rylann read the entire e-mail, then sat back in her chair to contemplate its meaning. Given that this was their first correspondence in nearly six months, it would be tempting to read too much into Jon’s every word. Luckily, he had been thoughtful enough to spare her from the rigors of that exercise.
After three years of dating, a year of living together, and six months of being apart, he’d written one word to her.
HI.
Thirteen
“HI ? THAT’S IT?”
Rylann grabbed another carrot stick and dipped it into the hummus plate she and Rae had ordered. “Yep. That’s all he wrote.” She waived the carrot in the air. “What does that even mean? Hi.”
“It means he’s a jackass.”
Rae had always possessed a talent for getting to the heart of the matter.
“Is this his way of testing the waters or something?” Rylann asked. “He throws out a hi to see if I’ll write back?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s a sign that he’s thinking about you,” Rae said.
The bartender returned with their martinis—between the interview with Kyle and Jon’s stupid Hi, Rylann had called for an emergency post-work happy hour at a bar in between her and Rae’s offices.
She chewed her carrot stick, musing over Rae’s comment. Then she shook her head. “You know what? I’m not going down this road again. I’ve already spent plenty of time analyzing and second-guessing every word of my last few conversations with Jon.” That had been stage one of her six-month plan to get over the breakup—a stage that had gone nowhere.
“Cheers to that.” Rae clinked her glass to Rylann’s and took a sip of her French martini. “So are you going to write back to him?”
“Sure. How about ‘Bye’?”
Rae laughed. “Probably not the response he was hoping for. But over the last six months, Jon has displayed a shockingly poor ability to read you. I guess we shouldn’t be too surprised by this.”
“More than six months, since we obviously hadn’t been on the same page about our relationship leading up to the Italy thing,” Rylann pointed out.
Rae snorted in agreement. “How he ever thought you were going to go for that idea, I have no clue.”
Rylann had expressed that very sentiment on several occasions since the breakup, but something about the way Rae said it made her feel as though she needed to clarify something. “Right. Because I would’ve been a fool at this point in my life to quit my job and follow some guy to Italy who can’t commit to marrying me.”
Rae set down her glass. “Absolutely. But even beyond that, he should’ve known you would’ve never gone with him.”
Rylann hedged, not sure she liked the sound of that. “Well, I wouldn’t say never.”
Rae gave her a get-real look. “Please. You go to Italy? You have your plans, remember?” She held up her hands innocently. “Why are you looking at me like that? Come on—you know this about yourself.”
“True. But when you say it, it makes me sound so…lame.” Suddenly concerned, she leaned in, lowering her voice. “I’m not lame, am I?”
“Sweetie, you’re not lame.”
Rylann grabbed her drink. “Look at this, I drink martinis on workdays—that can’t be lame, right? And this wasn’t even planned.”
Rae smiled. “You know I love you, right?”
Rylann eyed her warily. “That’s typically a lead-in people say to give themselves permission to tell you something you don’t want to hear.”
“Okay, then let’s start with the part you do want to hear: you are a brilliant trial lawyer, Ry. And part of that comes from your ability to plan ahead—you’re always three steps ahead of the other guy, and have figured out the solution to the problem before he even realizes there is one.”
Rylann sniffed, partially mollified. “Go on.”
“But let’s be honest: did any part of you, even for one second, think about chucking it all and getting on that plane with Jon?”
“No,” Rylann said matter-of-factly. “Because that would’ve been crazy. And I don’t do crazy. Crazy is for women in their twenties.”
“You didn’t do it then, either.”
“So I’m ahead of the curve.” Rylann took a sip of her drink, mulling something over and turning serious for a moment. Rae had been her best friend for years, even when they’d lived two thousand miles apart. She trusted her opinion more than anyone’s. “If it had been you, would you have gone to Rome?”
Rae thought this over. “Probably not. I don’t do crazy, either.”
Rylann threw her hands up in exasperation. “Then why are you riding me about this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because we’re both thirty-two and single. It used to be bridal showers and bachelorette parties. Now a week doesn’t go by without the mailman bringing me some sort of announcement or invitation with a baby booty on it.” She shrugged. “So maybe not doing crazy isn’t working so great for either of us.”
The words hung in the air between them.
“Well, thanks, Mendoza—now I’m just depressed. Actually, no. The hell with that.” Rylann reached across the table and squeezed Rae’s hand. “Just because we haven’t met Mr. Right doesn’t mean we’re doing anything wrong. And by the way, you’re brilliant and awesome, too. If I were a lesbian, I’d totally settle down with you and make lots of in vitro babies.”
Rae smiled, just as Rylann had hoped. She hated to see her friend—normally so upbeat about the dating scene—get down about this. Plus, it unsettled her. Rae was a smart, attractive, successful woman. If she didn’t have her pick of the litter, Rylann had no clue what men were looking for.
“Have I told you how glad I am that you moved here?” Rae asked.
“Me, too.” And as she said the words, Rylann realized just how true they were. Sure, she missed San Francisco at times, but even in the couple short weeks Chicago had begun to feel like home again. “So there’s something else I wanted to tell you. Not related to Jon.”
Rae took a sip of her martini. “It’s something good, isn’t it? I can tell by the look on your face. Let me guess: work hottie.”
“No.” Rylann thought about that. “Actually, there is a work hottie. A couple of them, in fact. But that’s not it.” She lowered her voice. “I can’t tell you any details because the matter is still in the investigatory stage, but Kyle Rhodes is a witness in one of my cases. We met for coffee earlier today.”
“Get out of here.” Rae’s expression changed from one of surprise to curiosity. “What kind of case is it? Computer hacking or something?”
“It’s an investigation related to the prison,” Rylann said vaguely. “He overheard something while he was there.”
“Did you two manage to exchange more than three words this time?” Rae asked teasingly.