They were up there now, Kristen and Rachel and Dean McMichaels, with Kristen’s rich hubby Ross Delmonico. Just like back in high school, they were having fun, enjoying the good life, while she was on the outside looking in. Damn them. Damn them all. Kristen, so pretty and oh so smart. And never without a boyfriend. Even Jake had turned to her when he’d broken up with Lindsay. And Rachel, the good sport, everybody’s friend, even Jake’s. It had been unfair twenty years ago that girls like Kristen and Rachel and Lindsay had everything going for them, that they got all the breaks, had all the fun. And it seemed that very little had changed in all this time. Maybe they hadn’t been deliberately cruel to her, but ignoring a person was more than simply being unkind. Sometimes she used to feel invisible, as if none them ever saw her. She had longed to be one of them-really one of them-and not just one of those girls hanging around on the periphery.
She stood outside the building, gazing up at the high-rise apartment that belonged to Ross Delmonico. She had followed Rachel and Dean, wanting to see just where they were going, and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that their destination was a visit with an old friend. Probably dinner. She’d noticed that Dean was carrying a bottle of wine.
Have fun tonight. Enjoy dinner. Talk and laugh and discuss old times. The last laugh won’t be on me-it’ll be on you. On you, Kris. And on you, Rachel. But most definitely on Lindsay. Bitch!
But killing them would have to wait. She knew now that the time and place for their deaths would come soon enough. But for those three, the end should be special. She had jumped the gun with Kris and even more so with Lindsay, because she hated Linds the most.
God, how she hated those cute little nicknames. Kris and Linds and Rach. She especially despised those names when Jake had used them.
“Ma’am, are you all right?” a voice asked.
Astonished by the fact that someone had spoken to her, she gasped loudly. Her gaze connected with a set of dark brown eyes. A young couple, apparently walking their dog, were standing there staring at her as if she had two heads.
“I-I’m fine,” she replied, then hurried away, up the street. Don’t panic, she told herself. They wouldn’t remember her. Besides, they hadn’t gotten that good a look at her, there in the semidarkness. And who would be asking them about her anyway?
She all but ran back to her car, which was parked a block away, got in, and started the engine. Leave Kris and Rach for another day-for the night of the reunion. There is someone else who deserves your immediate attention, someone less important than the exalted three, but someone as guilty as they, someone who deserves to die. And soon.
Dinner with the Delmonicos had been nice. Dean liked Ross and hoped he and Kristen would continue trying to make their marriage work. And not just because they had a kid together, but because they seemed to genuinely love each other. Maybe when all was said and done in a relationship, love really was all that mattered. Real love. Not lust. Not fleeting passion. Not memories of raging teenage hormones.
Who was he kidding? He didn’t know the first thing about real love. As a teenager, he’d bonked just about any girl who’d let him. And later on…well, he’d been around the block a few times before he got married. He had loved Kellie and she him, but it hadn’t been enough, hadn’t been real and true and meant to last a lifetime. His parents had had that. Still had it. They were off traveling across the country in their motor home, loving life and loving each other as much as if not more than ever.
He wanted that kind of relationship. Hell, he wasn’t getting any younger. If he was going to remarry and produce a few offspring, he needed to get started pretty soon. After all, he was scaring forty to death. So maybe that was the reason he kept putting Rachel into the scenario, kept thinking about her as a life partner, as the future Mrs. Dean McMichaels. Ever since they were kids, he’d been protective of her, almost like a brother, but somewhere along the line, he’d become possessive, too, and by their senior year in high school, he’d known he loved cute, bubbly Rachel Alsace.
He glanced over at her where she sat looking out the passenger side window in his Thunderbird. “Penny for your thoughts.”
She turned to face forward, then glanced at him. “I was just thinking how lucky Kristen is. She and Ross. They have each other and a daughter and…And Lindsay just reconnected with Wyatt Goddard. I told you about them and their son and…”
“And at our age, being alone isn’t all that great, is it?”
“You’re right,” she said. “And it makes us more vulnerable to getting involved with the wrong person or persuading ourselves that a relationship is more special than it actually is.”
Dean harrumphed.
“Was that a laugh or a grunt?” she asked.
“A bit of both,” he admitted. “I was actually thinking along the same lines. About us, to be honest.”
“Us as in you and me?”
“Yeah. I used to care about you, back when we were kids. My feelings were sort of complicated. I pestered the hell out of you and tried to protect you, sort of like a big brother, but then when we were teenagers, I wanted you…you know, wanted wanted you.”
“I wish you’d told me…back then.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. You were too infatuated with Jake.”
“If you had just told me how you felt-”
“I’m telling you now. I’d like to take you back to my place and screw you all night long,” Dean said. “But if we did that, then we would both be even more confused about our feelings than we are now. Heck, I’ve halfway convinced myself that I’m in love with you, and I think you’re starting to wonder if we might not have a budding relationship in the works. Right?”
“Maybe. Why is that so wrong?”
“For the very reasons we just discussed. We’re both nearly forty, unmarried, no kids, and envy old friends who seem to have what we want. I don’t want us to make a mistake and wind up hurting each other by jumping into a relationship.”
Rachel didn’t reply. He glanced at her and noticed she had turned to look out the passenger window again.
“Rachel?”
“Hmm?”
“Did I say something wrong?”
She cleared her throat. “No, no, you didn’t say anything wrong.”
When he pulled into the Youngs’ driveway and parked the car, Rachel opened the door and hopped out, then called, “Don’t bother seeing me in. It’s late and I don’t want to disturb Uncle Charlie and Aunt Laraine.” Just before she slammed the door closed, she added, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dean sat there and watched her practically run to the door and let herself in, not once looking back. He released the tight hold he had on the door handle, then huffed loudly. Women! He’d never understand them.
Don’t just sit here, he told himself. Go home. You messed up big-time with Rachel, and it’s not something you can fix tonight.
Exactly what had he done? He’d been honest with her. Why was that so wrong? He’d thought she felt the same way-that they were in danger of thinking themselves in love, and that before taking their relationship to the next level, they needed to make sure of just where they were headed. Not for his sake, but for hers. He cared too much about Rachel to use her to simply scratch an itch.