92 Pacific Boulevard. Debbie Macomber

      James had listened quietly, had held her and kissed her—and hadn’t said a single word about his own history.

      Christie had offered him her trust, something she’d sworn she’d never give another man. She’d even started thinking about being married to James, having a baby with him… . What hurt so badly was that he hadn’t loved her enough to share his past.

      Well, that was that. Another painful lesson learned. James was out of her life now.

      For good.

      It didn’t matter if he returned, and everyone seemed to assume that eventually he would. She was through.

      “You didn’t come for Christmas,” Teri complained. Apparently it still rankled that Christie had missed the big family get-together. But as far as Christie was concerned, Christmas dinner with her ragtag family wasn’t any real loss.

      “I was volunteering, remember?” This was true, but she’d already decided not to show up at Teri and Bobby’s place before she made that arrangement.

      Teri looked over at her with big brown doe-eyes. “You were … volunteering?”

      “Yeah. I told you. I served meals in Tacoma at the homeless shelter.”

      “Oh. Yeah.”

      “I delivered Christmas baskets to needy families, too, but that was before Christmas.”

      Teri shocked her when she suddenly began to laugh. “And I accused you of not paying attention to me. I’m almost as bad. I completely forgot you were doing that. Here I thought you were probably in some tavern, instead of with Bobby and me.”

      “No way.” She hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but at Christmas she’d still felt emotionally shaky. Being with Teri and Bobby was risky—there were too many memories associated with James at her sister’s home. And it was hard to watch those two, with their romantic bliss and cozy domestic life. Her pain was too close to the surface. She was better now, stronger than she’d been in a long while.

      “Then why haven’t you answered my calls?”

      Christie didn’t have an explanation for that. All right, so maybe she wasn’t as strong as she thought.

      “You’re drinking?”

      “A few beers. Don’t worry, I didn’t get drunk.” Although she’d downed enough alcohol to leave her with a killer headache. She figured the booze had affected her like this because she hadn’t been drinking much lately.

      “You were too drunk to drive.”

      Christie denied that. She wasn’t stupid; she knew her limit.

      Teri didn’t seem to believe her. “Then why is your car at The Pink Poodle?”

      “It wouldn’t start.” Christie didn’t want to think about that piece of junk. Every day the engine fired to life was a day to be grateful for.

      A few months ago, James had managed to jury-rig it into running again but there were too many things wrong with her sad excuse for a car.

      “How’d you get home?”

      “Someone gave me a ride.”

      Teri’s gaze shot toward the bedroom.

      “No one spent the night, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

      Teri had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “But it wouldn’t be the first time if someone did,” she muttered.

      Christie couldn’t argue with that. When it came to men she was batting zero. As Teri had once said, Christie attracted losers the way an ice cream truck attracts children. Not that Teri should talk; she’d been fortunate enough to break the pattern of harmful and unfulfilling relationships when she met Bobby. Christie had been so sure that James was her Bobby… . He wasn’t.

      Teri drank some of her tea and sent Christie a smile. “I’m glad you weren’t alone over Christmas.”

      “I am, too. It helped, you know?” Christie took a tentative sip of coffee.

      “I know,” Teri said.

      “Instead of sitting home and feeling sorry for myself, I took the initiative and did something for someone else.”

      Teri didn’t appear to be completely mollified. “You could’ve spent the day with Bobby and me. Johnny was there, and Mom came by. I wish you’d been there, too,” she added plaintively.

      In retrospect it probably wouldn’t have hurt to make a token appearance. “How is Mom?” she asked, hoping to distract her sister.

      “She’s filed for divorce.”

      “Again?”

      Christie had lost count of how many stepdads and “uncles” she’d accumulated through the years. “I don’t understand why she marries these guys.” She had to be on her fifth or sixth husband. Christie had stopped making an effort to remember their names; they never seemed to last long enough to bother. The fact was, she hadn’t seen her mother in more than a year.

      “I don’t know why she marries them, either,” Teri said. “At least she didn’t get bombed this time. Maybe because what’s-his-name wasn’t there.”

      “Did Bobby put her purse by the front door again?”

      Teri grinned at the memory. As Christie recalled, her mother had vowed never to return. That vow, like every other one she’d made through the years, had turned out to be meaningless.

      “I think Bobby was tempted to show Mom the door, but for my sake he restrained himself.”

      “He’s a good man.”

      Her sister’s eyes softened. “He is,” she agreed.

      “How’s Johnny doing?” Their little brother held a special place in Christie’s heart. Between them, the two sisters had practically raised him.

      Christie was as proud as any mother when Johnny was accepted into the University of Washington. Having Bobby Polgar as a brother-in-law hadn’t hurt. Teri had never said as much, but it didn’t take a college degree to add two and two. Johnny never could have afforded the tuition and other expenses on his own, and there hadn’t been any scholarships.

      “He made the dean’s list.”

      “I’m thrilled for him!” She’d have to call Johnny soon, congratulate him.

      “Me, too.” Teri sipped her tea. “I’ve been worried about you.”

      “I know.” Christie’s declarations of strength and independence were a lot of bravado. Spending Friday night at The Pink Poodle was testament to that. Waking up with a hangover wasn’t the way she wanted to live the rest of her life. It wasn’t the way she intended to live it, either.

      “You know what I was thinking?” Christie said a bit sheepishly, half afraid Teri would laugh.

      “No, tell me.”

      She gave a self-conscious shrug. “I handed out charity baskets with that group from the Methodist church at Christmas.”

      “Yes, you mentioned that.”

      “They were nice people.”

      Teri laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

      Actually, she was. Christie had expected those church people to make some comment about her lifestyle. Instead, everyone was friendly and welcoming. She hadn’t been back, although she wasn’t sure why.

      “I’m going to go to church.” Having said as much, Christie held her breath and waited for Teri’s reaction.

      “Why do you say it like that?” Teri asked in a puzzled voice.

      “Like what?”

      “Like