Her Best Friend. Sarah Mayberry

wrapped his arms around Amy and rested his cheek on the crown of her head.

      “Ames. God …” His voice was thick with emotion. He sucked in a ragged breath, fighting for control. He’d thought he had all this stuff under control. He’d thought he was almost over it.

      Amy’s fingers dug into his back as she pulled him even closer. He inhaled the sweet smell of her shampoo and absorbed the warmth of her small, strong body against his. It had been too long. He’d missed her. He hadn’t realized how much until this minute. She’d always been his sounding board, his cheering squad, his devil’s advocate and faithful sidekick. No wonder he’d been thinking about her so much lately. No wonder she’d been in his dreams.

      Their hug lasted a long time. Slowly he got himself under control. Amy stirred and he forced himself to let her go.

      “Sorry,” he said. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. Talk about spilling his guts.

      “I don’t know what the official ruling is, but I think you’re allowed to be upset when your marriage ends.”

      He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s been eleven months. I should be over it.”

      “It takes as long as it takes, right?”

      He shrugged again. This was all new territory for him.

      She passed him the champagne bottle. He took it, grateful for the distraction. Champagne fizzed in the back of his throat as he swallowed a big mouthful straight from the bottle. He could feel Amy watching him. Now that the intensity of the initial moment had passed he felt foolish, self-conscious.

      “Don’t worry. I’m not about to blubber all over you,” he said.

      She held out a hand for the bottle and he passed it over. She took a healthy swig, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she leveled a finger at him.

      “You make one more crack about being emotional and I’m going to punch you in the face. Got it?”

      He smiled. Couldn’t help himself. She looked so stern with her finger aimed at him and her brown eyes so serious. She probably would try to hit him, too.

      “I mean it, Quinn. Don’t you dare try to pull that he-man crap with me.”

      He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

      “What is it with men? When did being human become a crime? It’s so dumb.”

      He figured she didn’t expect him to respond. He gestured toward the main seating area with the flashlight. “You want to try this again? Only this time I’ll shut the hell up.”

      “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

      He pulled the bottle from her hands and gave her a little shove on the shoulder. “Come on, give me a proper tour. Please?”

      She was silent for a moment, watching him. Trying to decide if she should push him to talk more, no doubt.

      A few years ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have bullied him until he told her everything she wanted to know.

      She smiled. “Prepare to be bored, Whitfield,” she said as she headed off into the darkness. “Try to keep up.”

      Lisa and Quinn are getting a divorce.

      The thought was still reverberating in Amy’s mind when she crawled into bed two hours later. She and Quinn had returned to the pub after she’d given him the tour. They’d run into a few people they’d both gone to school with, shared some bar snacks and more champagne. And all the while Amy had been trying to come to grips with Quinn’s bombshell.

      Now she stared at the ceiling in her bedroom. She felt as though someone had pulled the rug out from beneath her feet.

      Lisa and Quinn had been teen sweethearts. They’d moved to Sydney to study law together. They’d loved each other. Their future was all mapped out.

      And now it was all over. Lisa had had an affair, broken Quinn’s trust.

      Goddamn.

      Amy simply couldn’t get her head around it. Quinn was so loyal and loving. It made her chest tight to think of how betrayed he must feel. How disappointed and hurt and angry. There was no way he’d made his marriage vows six years ago expecting them to have such a limited lifespan. No. Way.

      She thought back to the night before the wedding, to the things he’d said to her down on the dock at the lake. They’d both had enough drink to be feeling no pain. Quinn had been sitting opposite her leaning against a pylon, his long legs bent at the knees, his bare feet planted on the deck.

      “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he said as he looked out over the dark water. “Getting married. Buying a place of our own. Starting a family.”

       She smiled, even though her grip tightened on her beer bottle. “Always were a big planner, Whitfield.”

       He shook his head. “I don’t have it all mapped out. I

       know stuff will go wrong. But I also know we’ll make it work. Because we love each other, and we know each other.”

      She nodded. Mostly because she didn’t trust herself to speak.

       “What about you, Ames?” he asked suddenly, nudging her bare foot with his. “You think Aaron’s going to pop the question?”

      She’d been going out with Aaron Reid for over a year.

       “I don’t want to get married yet. I’ve got the Grand to think about first.”

       “You can get married and still restore the Grand.”

       “I’m not ready yet.”

       “You’ve missed your big opportunity, you know. We could have had a double wedding if you’d played your cards right.”

      “Aaron and I aren’t like you and Lisa,” she said. It came out more sharply than she’d intended and Quinn took a pull on his beer before responding.

       “I just want you to be as happy as I am, Ames.”

       “I know. Sorry.”

      He shifted one of his feet so it rested on hers, big and warm, letting her know without words that she was forgiven. He smiled at her, his eyes heavy-lidded from all the alcohol.

      “Tomorrow’s going to be a great day. The best day of my life,” he said.

      Her heart ached with sadness and happiness as she looked at him, the two emotions so hopelessly mixed she knew she’d never get them untangled.

       “You’re going to be a great husband.”

      “I know,” he said. Then they both laughed at his shameless arrogance.

      SHE TWISTED in bed, rolling over onto her side. God, how she hated the idea that he was in pain, that all that hope and happiness had gone up in flames. Worse, that she hadn’t been around to comfort him because she’d chosen to push him out of her life when he’d needed her the most.

      How could Lisa have done this to him? Amy could still remember the way her friend had glowed on the morning of their wedding. And the way Quinn had looked at Lisa when she’d walked up the aisle toward him. A match made in heaven, everyone had said.

      And Lisa had thrown all that away. Amy simply couldn’t comprehend it.

      She was drifting toward sleep when an insidious little thought weaseled its way into her mind: now that Quinn was getting a divorce, he was free again. Available.

      Her eyes snapped open. Her heart kicked out an urgent, panicky beat.

      Don’t.