Just for This Moment (Wishful 4)

Piper’s eyes widened, at the unexpected invective. “Please don’t be angry with him. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he never would have come up with this idea on his own. Credit for that goes entirely to me. Your family values business acumen. So just...focus on the fact that what he’s pulled off with The Observer is nothing short of miraculous, and leave it at that.”

“Your mind’s made up?”

“My end of the deal is fulfilled. It’s time for me to go.”

They lapsed into a strained silence.

An ache built in Piper’s throat now that she’d said her piece. If she didn’t get out of here now, she was going to burst into tears, and Suzanne was the last person she wanted to see that kind of weakness. She picked up her purse and rose. “I’ll see myself out.”

She’d made it to the door of the parlor before Suzanne called her name.

Piper turned back, a question on her face.

When Suzanne spoke, her voice was gentler than Piper would have expected. “You don’t expect anything at all from him?”

She swallowed. “Nothing he’s willing to give. The whole thing was a business arrangement. I was the only one foolish enough to bring hearts into the equation.”

Chapter 15

“Okay, I’m headed out, unless you need anything else.”

Myles looked up at Patty and smiled. “No, I’m good. Thanks for all your help.”

“It’s what I do. And tell Piper I hope she feels better. She still looked pretty ill when she was in this morning.”

Myles frowned. “This morning?”

“Yeah she stopped by around nine. Didn’t you see her?”

“No.”

“You’ve been in and out of meetings and on the phone all day. Maybe she decided not to bother you.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. But why would she go to the trouble of coming in if she wasn’t planning on staying?

“See you tomorrow.”

Preoccupied, he waved to Patty and started loading his messenger bag with the things he needed to take home for the night. Piper hadn’t been at home when he popped in for lunch, so she hadn’t had a relapse. Maybe Patty was right and she’d just stopped in on her way to get coffee or something at The Grind. If it had been anything important, she’d have waited for him to get done with…whatever he’d been doing when she was here.

In the mood to celebrate, Myles picked up a bottle of champagne on the way home. Between his usual editorial duties and a handful of meetings, he’d spent a fair chunk of the day getting all the details hammered out regarding hiring Vanessa. Her start date was still a little fuzzy, as she needed to sort the issue of moving with her wife, but there was an end in sight to his obsessive overworking.

And he was going home to his own wife to tell her what he should’ve said the day they married.

Piper, I love you.

Given her recent illness, she probably wouldn’t drink more than a sip of the champagne, but it was the principle.

Her car wasn’t in the garage. Surely Miranda wo

uldn’t have her working late on her first day back after being so sick. He brought in the champagne and the ingredients for dinner, and dialed Piper’s number. No answer. A prickle of worry swept over him.

Spying a box in the living room floor, he relaxed. Of course. At the first sign of being human again, she’d headed over to her house to keep packing stuff. She’d probably set her phone down somewhere and didn’t hear it. God forbid she wait until she was actually well.

Making a mental note to suck it up and hire movers to pack everything for her, cost be damned, he went to put the chicken on to marinate and toss a couple of baked potatoes in the oven. They’d grill out, and he’d make her something with more taste than the bland soup and applesauce she’d been existing on the past week. Something niggled at him as he worked, but he couldn’t put his finger on what was off.

As the clock ticked closer to six and she still hadn’t shown, Myles figured he’d best head over to her place to remind her of the time. She’d work herself to collapse if he didn’t. Keys in hand, he was almost out the door, when he turned back to the living room. Walking back in, he made a slow circle of the room.

Some of her stuff was gone. The stack of romance novels she kept by her end of the sofa wasn’t on the end table. The bright pillows weren’t on the couch. Had she moved them?