Page 5 of The One You Want

“What are these?” Dr. Miller asked, brows high as he looked at the mess on the floor. The box had burst open, scattering chunks of cookies all over the place. “Did those come from Rose Powell’splace?”

“Uh, no,” I said, flustered. “I made them.” I happened to catch Robin’s gaze just then, saw the way her eyes narrowed and then traveled from my face, to my dress, and then over to the cookies before flashing back to me, understanding dawning in herexpression.

She knew exactly what I had been planning when I came in heretoday.

“Just thought it would be a nice treat for the volunteers,” I stammered, cheeks going super-nova hot. “For the break room, youknow.”

Robin was full on smirking now, her eyes both pitying and judgmental. It wasn’t the first time someone looked at me with thatexpression.

“Shit,” Dr. Miller muttered. “You were bringing us a treat and that’s what you walked inon.”

“She was bringing you a treat, all right,” Robin muttered, stillsmirking.

Thankfully, Dr. Miller didn’t seem to hear her. “Jenny, I am sosorry—”

“Seriously,” I cut in, too loud. “It’s fine. We’re all adults. No biggie. Just, you know, maybe next time a closed door would begood.”

Jesus, was I still talking? I needed to get out ofthere.

“Anyhow,” I blathered. “Better be going. See you guys around. Bye!” Then I darted out the door before either of them could say another word, probably looking like a deranged lunatic in theprocess.

One of the best things about living on a tiny island is how close you always are to home. I made it to my condo on the edge of town in record time. It helped, I was sure, that I was practically sprinting the wholeway.

But just when I thought I’d reached the safety of home, I ran smack into Cora Hanson, hand in hand with her boyfriend Owen, who lived in the unit below mine. The two of them were holding hands on the front steps to the building, looking at each other in that lovey, gooey way that I usually got a kick out of. Today, it just made my chest throbpainfully.

“Hey!” Cora said pleasantly. “You look nice, today. I love that dress—oh my God, Jenny, what’d you do to yourarm?”

I looked down at the bandage, which was steadily turning red. Damn it. I probably did needstitches.

“Oh, just klutzy,” I said, knowing my voice was too high, too bright, but unable to do any better. I kind of felt like I was going to burst into tears. Or maybe throwup.

“Let me look,” Owen said, beginning to reach for me. “You wouldn’t believe how many knife wounds you see in a commercial kitchen.” Cora and Owen owned two rival bars on the island, both of which served food, so I supposed they had seen their share of cuts. But I really didn’t want another person touching me justthen.

“I’m fine,” I said, too shrill, yanking my arm back. They both seemed to freeze and I supposed I didn’t blame them. The Jenny that they knew was quiet and shy and certainly didn’t go around yelping at friends on thesidewalk.

“Dr. Miller looked at it,” I said, a little more calmly, trying to smile at them. “Everything’sgood.”

Cora looked like she didn’t believe me. “If you’resure…”

“Totally sure,” I assured her, finally managing to fix a smile on myface.

“Will I see you at the Libbies tonight?” she asked, still studying me like she wasn’t quite sure what to make ofme.

I thought about my conversation with Libby. How determined I’d been to not be intimidated by the girls in the club. How hopeful and encouraged I felt, sitting there on the bench withher.

And look at how that had turnedout.

“No,” I blurted, brushing past them. “I can’t go tonight. I’ll…I’ll see youaround.”

“Hey, Jenny,” Cora called, clearly concerned, but I ignored her, pushing into the building and going straight for the elevator. To my relief, the door was just about to slide shut and I managed to squeeze in. Apparently the universe had decided to throw me a small scrap ofpity.

Once upstairs, I let myself into my condo and finally felt like I could take a deep breath. My space was silent and still, exactly what I needed after the tumult of the day. My grandmother had paid to have it decorated when I first moved in, all creams and whites with modern furniture and carefully chosen decorative “pieces.” Not a spark of color to beseen.

It wasn’t exactly my style—hell, I didn’t even know what my stylewas. And usually, that bothered me, the complete lack of personality in my own home. But right now, I was grateful. The cool walls and clean lines felt strangely soothing—just what Ineeded.

After changing into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, I grabbed a pint of Haagen-Dazs from the fridge and collapsed on the off-white suede couch. I didn’t want to think about what had happened. Didn’t want to think about why, exactly, it had bothered me so much. All I wanted to do was put myself into an ice cream coma and veg out to someNetflix.

Just as I was starting to get comfortable, I heard an ominousmeow.