had too many other things on her mind today.
“I hope it’s not ruined,” Franco commiserated, his gaze on her leather pants. “You should probably take them off and lay them out to dry.” He opened a closet door behind him and reached inside. “Here, you can borrow this to wear in the meantime.”
She saw him pull out a hanger with a black skirt hanging from it. “Thanks, but I couldn’t possibly—”
“Please take it,” Franco insisted, shoving it into her hands. “I don’t want you sitting on my furniture in wet pants. Besides, it’s a great skirt.” He glanced down at the bottle of wine in her bag. “Men love it.”
Paige transferred the hanger to her other hand, then picked up the bag off the floor and headed for the staircase. “Thanks for lending me the skirt. I owe you.”
“Believe me, it’s my pleasure,” Franco called after her. “Apartment 2B is on the left at the top of the stairs. I’ll be happy to show you the way.”
“That’s all right,” she assured him, taking a deep breath as she started up the steps. “I already know it.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Paige had her leather pants off and the borrowed black skirt on, somewhat surprised at how well it fit. She thought it a little strange that the doorman would have a spare skirt in the closet, but everything about Franco seemed a little strange.
Peeling those shrunken leather pants off had been an arduous process, but definitely worth it. The silky fabric of the short skirt whispered against her bare thighs and made her want to sway to the Frank Sinatra song playing on the stereo. The song Alex used to sing in her ear when they danced. At least hearing it didn’t make her cry anymore.
The rain had finally abated, so Paige opened the balcony doors to let some fresh air into the stale apartment. It was located at the back of the old Victorian. She stepped out onto the balcony to see the row of Painted Ladies, the nickname given to Victorian houses adorned with several shades of coordinating paint, across the street. Many of the houses were in various stages of renovation.
She could smell a hint of the ocean as the breeze picked up. Turning back into the apartment, her gaze moved slowly over the table she’d set so meticulously.
There were two plates with chocolate éclairs on them, the dessert she and Alex had shared on their first date. A bottle of premium champagne chilling in an ice bucket, the same brand Alex had purchased the day of their engagement. A dried arrangement of white gardenias and stephanotis in the center of the table—her wedding bouquet.
A ripple of apprehension fluttered through her. This was a big step in her life. Paige had spent the past year preparing herself for this moment. Telling herself that it was time to move on. But was she really ready to forget about Alex—forever?
Yes.
She took a determined step toward the table and picked up the folded sheet of paper lying there. Alex’s marriage proposal—sent via e-mail over a year ago. Paige had been stunned when she’d opened it. Hadn’t really believed it until she’d printed it out in black and white. Now her gaze flew over the words she’d memorized long ago. Words that were imprinted on her heart.
Paige,
We’ve only known each other a few weeks, but I think I fell in love with you the moment we met. Say you’ll marry me and be mine forever.
Alex
She took a deep breath, then held the paper over the candle, letting the flame lick at the edges until it caught. The corner of the paper turned black and began curling toward her palm. She dropped it in a crystal bowl and watched it burn until it was nothing but ashes.
Then she picked up the imported champagne bottle and poured both flutes full of the sparkling wine. “Here’s to you, Alex Mack.” She raised one glass high in the air. “May you rot in hell.”
Paige caught her reflection in the antique wall mirror, still surprised by the woman she saw there. Her thick brown hair was now short and sassy, tapered at her neck and streaked with auburn highlights.
She’d gone on a shopping spree, too, buying outfits like the slinky halter top and matching red leather pants she’d worn here tonight. No more shapeless linen shifts and boring pantsuits for the new Paige Hanover.
It was time for a fresh start, symbolized by the anemone tattoo on her ankle. In the language of flowers, anemones stood for anticipation. Paige had grown up with flowers, working in her paternal grandfather’s flower shop, Bay Bouquets, then inheriting it from him after his death five years ago.
Now she designed custom floral arrangements for the homes and businesses of some of the wealthiest citizens of San Francisco. Her mother ran the front of the store and her stepfather had made all the deliveries until his sudden disappearance eighteen months ago.
Bay Bouquets was definitely a family affair, but maybe it was time to expand. Once she put Alex behind her, she could concentrate fully on her business. Maybe even look into starting a franchise.
But first things first.
Paige walked over to the stereo and ejected the Sinatra CD, then stepped out onto the balcony. Lights shone in the houses around her and she knew families were sitting down to dinner together. Couples were telling each other about their day. She’d dreamed of doing the same with Alex in this very apartment.
A dream that had been hard to let go—until tonight.
Holding the CD in her hand like a Frisbee, she flipped her wrist and sent it spinning into the night. “Goodbye, Frank.”
Then her hand went to the engagement ring she kept on a chain around her neck. She’d worn it next to her heart for the past year. An exquisite half-carat diamond that had been a symbol of Alex’s commitment—until her handsome fiancé had disappeared without any explanation.
Her throat tightened, remembering the thrill that had soared through her when Alex had pulled the ring from his shirt pocket and presented it to her. The shy, almost embarrassed way he’d slipped it on her finger.
Paige had kissed him then, so full of passion for him that it had scorched her down to her very soul. Alex had lost all of his shyness, pulling her tightly against him and ravishing her lips with his mouth. She breathed a deep, wistful sigh, remembering the moment and the desire she could have sworn she’d seen in his eyes.
Paige had believed that they would finally consummate their relationship that night…but had only been disappointed once again.
Alex had wanted to wait until their wedding night. Had murmured something about wanting to make it special between them. She’d actually thought it rather sweet at the time—as well as a little frustrating.
Now she knew it had been a sign.
A bad sign. Alex hadn’t wanted her after all. Something…something about her had made him change his mind. He hadn’t even bothered to explain the reason in the note he’d left, which had contained only two words: Sorry, Alex. She’d spent months going over every moment they’d spent together, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong.
After months of torturous soul-searching and endless phone conversations with her friends analyzing every angle of the relationship, Paige had finally figured it out. She’d fallen in love with a
