Forbidden

Sometimes Leah hated her.

But she’d always love her.

“Nothing. I guess I just didn’t sleep well last night. And Sami read me the riot act this morning for not washing her volleyball shorts.”

“And you’re going to counseling like that? May be you should cancel and meet me for a margarita.”

Leah sighed and relaxed slightly into the driver’s seat, wondering if the muddled emotions crowding her chest would ever leave. “I can’t tell you how good that sounds.”

“So do it then. And meet me at Carmel’s in ten.”

Leah opened her mouth to refuse but Rachel had already hung up.

She absently pushed disconnect and stared at the cell for a long moment. She’d never canceled a session before. Surely this one time couldn’t do any harm.

She called Dan’s office first only to learn he’d already left.

Maybe she should go. Dan was probably already on his way, if he wasn’t already there. Either way, he would have his cell switched off.

She dialed the therapist’s office next and told the assistant she couldn’t make it but that she’d be there for their regularly scheduled meeting.

She disconnected, put the cell back in her bag, then pulled it back out again to switch the receiver off, routing all incoming calls directly to voice mail. The instant she did it, she felt ten pounds lighter, though it did nothing to stop the moths fluttering around in her belly.

Oh, boy, did she ever need this margarita.

“GABE WANTS ME TO MOVE into his place after the wedding,” Rachel told her from where she sat across from her at Carmel’s Mexican Restaurant.

Leah fingered the coarse salt lining on her extra-large margarita glass then licked her finger. She’d never been much of a drinker and knew from experience that she wouldn’t be able to drink more than a quarter of the concoction before her, but somehow it made her feel better to sip from a mammoth glass than a smaller one.

“And the problem is?”

“The problem is I just bought my own house, had it completely renovated and just moved into it three months ago. I don’t want to move again.” She sipped at her own margarita then crossed her arms on top of the table. “Besides, the thought of living in the mausoleum he calls home gives me the creeps.”

Leah cracked a halfhearted smile. “It can’t be that bad. The Wellington place is a part of Toledo history.”

“Then Gabe should turn it into a museum or something.”

Leah didn’t know much about the Wellington estate beyond the sweeping grounds and the towering castlelike spires. She’d fished for an invitation from her sister once or twice, but it sounded like Rachel spent as little time at the house as possible and was trying to find ways to get out of going to the dark manor instead of inventing reasons to have to be there. “It’s not all that much bigger than where we grew up.”

“Yes, but our house is different. Even when it was just Dad and us there, it still seemed…I don’t know, like home.”

Leah cocked her head to the side and considered her pretty sister. “Don’t you think that’s how Gabe feels about his house? Especially since he doesn’t have any family left?”

Rachel ran her fingers through her short, spiky brown hair and made a face. “God, I knew I’d live to regret you seeing a therapist. You’re even starting to sound like one. The next thing you know you’ll be diagnosing my condition and prescribing me Xanax or something.”

Rachel glowered at her, making Leah glad that she could forget about her own problems for a precious stretch of time and focus instead on her sister’s. Why was it so much easier to fix other people’s problems than your own? Maybe because the emotion factor didn’t figure into the equation. Maybe because as an outsider your opinion was a little more objective.

Maybe because you knew that your own problems were easily solved and you were purposely ignoring them for that very reason.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at her. “Uh-oh. I know that look. What’s going on?”

Leah blinked. She’d forgotten that Rachel had been the first one to pick up on her affair with J.T. nearly a year and a half ago. And here she was having an escapist drink with the only person who could finger what was going on.

“Actually,” Rachel continued, “now that I think about it, you’ve been acting strangely for a few days now.”

Leah cleared her throat. “I have not been acting strangely.”

“Yes, you have. It’s been taking you forever to answer the phone. Usually you pick up on the first or second ring. And even when I do get you, you sound distracted and absentminded.”

Leah shrugged, her gaze darting around the restaurant before returning to settle on her sister. “Maybe there is something going on. And maybe there isn’t. I don’t know. I haven’t quite figured it out yet myself.” She stared at her drink. “Would it be all right to say that I’m really not up to talking about it right now?”

“Is it Dan?”

Leah wished she were anywhere but there in that one moment.

No, scratch that. Despite everything, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. If she were back at the house, she’d be climbing the walls until Sami came home from her volleyball game after school. If she had gone to the counseling session, she’d be sitting next to Dan trying to work out a situation her mind wasn’t completely on right now. And if she was with J.T….

Well, he wasn’t much of an option, was he? Even though his gift of a coffee, a roll and a rose that morning and his note this afternoon told her he was nearby, she didn’t know how to get in touch with him. Not that she would. It was just that knowing being with him wasn’t an option helped.

Marginally.

She shifted in her seat. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Rachel was silent for a few moments as she studied her, then her gaze cut to the approaching waitress.

“Saved by the food,” her sister said, offering up a smile.

Leah smiled back at her and moved her glass so her salad could be put down in front of her.

Within moments they were alone again. Leah speared the crisp lettuce with forced enthusiasm while Rachel did the same across from her.

“I know I can be a little pushy sometimes,” Rachel said quietly.

Leah raised her brows in feigned shock.

“Cut it out.” Rachel chewed a bite then swallowed. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, well, you know I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk, don’t you?” she said quietly, her hazel eyes steady.

Yes, she did know that. And that simple knowledge calmed the edginess in her, however slightly. But how could she talk about what she had yet to understand?

Leah nodded, feeling ridiculously close to tears. “I know. Thanks.”

IT WAS NEARLY TEN-THIRTY and there was no sign of Leah.

J.T. sat at the end of the long bar, his fingers wrapped around a still-full beer bottle that was growing warmer by the minute. In the corner the jukebox played an old Johnny Cash song while at the two pool tables four men traded shots, the winners destined to play the owners of the next quarters on the nicked lips of the tables. J.T. had seen his share of drinking holes and this one was better than most, but not as good as some he’d been in.

He’d long ago discovered that a different set of rules existed in bars. No matter who you were, where you came from or whom you were there to meet, it was your business, as long as you didn’t start any problems for others and paid your tab. And if you said just enough to make you friendly, but not too much to make others curious, your face was forgotten as soon as the other men turned their backs, making you just another guy looking to knock back a few brews after work.

J.T.’s gaze slid back toward the door as another just such guy walked in.