The Morning After. Dorie Graham

swept his arms around her and kissed her. “Then I’ll be your light until morning.”

      Her arms had tightened around him, her breath warm against his cheek. “You’re always my light, Dylan.”

      God, he missed her.

      He swallowed past a sharp ache in his throat, gritting his teeth against the loneliness that always overwhelmed him at sunset. How wrong they’d both been.

      She’d been the light.

      He closed his eyes. To his consternation, a vision of Nikki McClellan flashed through his mind. Her dark eyes beckoned him, filled with a promise he refused to acknowledge. He pushed the image away.

      “No.”

      No one would ever replace Kathy. He had no intention of pursuing any kind of relationship with Nikki. He had nothing to offer her.

      The doorbell rang. He straightened in the dark, hesitating before rising. His family never visited, and hadn’t most of his friends gotten the hint and given up stopping by long ago? It was probably Steven. His old boarding school roommate was a diehard.

      Steven had gotten married a little over a year ago. It seemed settling down into his own happiness made him more determined to drag Dylan back into the world of the living. The more Dylan resisted, the harder Steven tried. Guess that’s what best friends were for.

      Dylan yanked open the door just as the bell sounded again. Evelyn Rogers, a paralegal at his office and the woman his parents had always favored over Kathy, stood on his doorstep. A tall man beside her met Dylan’s steady gaze while a streetlight cast long shadows across the porch.

      “Why, Dylan, I was beginning to wonder if you were home.” Evelyn looped her arm through her companion’s. His dark hair played opposite to the platinum strands framing her heart-shaped face. “This is Nick Vancouver. I don’t believe you two have met.”

      Dylan hesitated a long moment, then shook the man’s hand. “Dylan Cain.”

      “I’ve long been an admirer of your father’s.”

      Dylan’s gut tightened. Too bad he couldn’t say the same. His father was hell in a courtroom, but Dylan had seen too much of the man’s private affairs to hold any kind of respect, let alone admiration, for him.

      Evelyn peered past him into the darkened house. “Has your power gone out?”

      Dylan flipped on the foyer light, then stepped back wordlessly. As much as it would have pleased his mother, Evelyn had never been anything to him. Why then did it aggravate him to see this man by her side?

      “I just wanted to drop off these summaries you requested.” She pulled a file from the briefcase slung over her shoulder.

      “Thanks.” He took it from her. “I would have had a courier pick them up.”

      She shrugged, her glance swinging to Nick, then back. “I wanted to stop by. No one’s seen much of you lately. You burrow into your office at work, then you hole up here the rest of the time. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

      Irritation grated through Dylan. “I’m fine. You needn’t have troubled yourself.”

      “Well…” She shifted and tried an uneasy smile. “We won’t keep you. We have to run anyway. We’re meeting Nick’s parents for dinner.”

      She twisted a large diamond on her ring finger. Inexplicably the knot in Dylan’s stomach tightened at the sight of the ring. Evelyn laughed a nervous little laugh, holding up her hand. “Isn’t it beautiful? Nick surprised me with it last week.”

      Dylan nodded, unable to utter anything intelligible. He should wish them well, but the words stuck in his throat. He’d never cared for Evelyn in that way, so why was her good fortune so hard to swallow?

      Beaming, Nick pulled her to his side. “I’m pushing for a September wedding.”

      Pink tinged Evelyn’s cheeks. “He’s so impatient, but we’re going to try.”

      “Ah, well…” Dylan let the words trail off. What was he supposed to say— That he wished them all the happiness he’d lost the night Kathy had slammed her car into that power pole?

      Nick released his fiancée. “We’re going to be late. It was nice meeting you, Dylan.”

      “Good luck,” was the best Dylan could offer as he again shook the man’s hand.

      “Take care of yourself. I worry about you.” Rising on her tiptoes, Evelyn placed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t be such a stranger, okay. You’ll come to the wedding?”

      He shrugged. “I’m not much for ceremonies.”

      Disappointment flickered in her blue eyes. “Well…let me know if you need anything else.”

      He nodded, then shut the door firmly behind them. What he needed was peace and quiet. What he needed was not to be reminded of all the happiness he had no hope of ever retrieving.

      “SO, EVELYN HAS HOOKED HERSELF a husband.” Steven Benson’s green eyes glowed in the dim light of Dylan’s study late that Saturday evening. “That throws a monkey wrench in your parents’ plan. I’m surprised your mother hasn’t called to agonize over it.”

      Dylan grimaced. His mother never missed a chance to play the drama queen. He lifted a bottle and two glasses from a nearby shelf. He wasn’t a regular drinker, but tonight seemed to call for it.

      He handed Steven one of the filled glasses. “She’s storing it up, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let loose. The more people to witness how I’ve failed her and take pity on her, the better.”

      “What made them think you’d ever go for Evelyn?” Steven shrugged. “She’s all right, just not right for you. She’s more like them. Surface.”

      Surface. The word described Dylan’s parents to a T. Appearances were all they cared about. Image was everything. With her highbrow bloodline and Ivy League education, Evelyn would indeed add luster to the family reputation. Unlike Kathy, who’d made it to Harvard not through her family connections or bank balance but on the full scholarship she’d worked so hard to earn.

      He gripped his glass, stilling the urge to slam it into the wall. His parents had never accepted her. They’d upset her, driven her away that night.

      “You look like you’re ready to break something. Don’t tell me you’re unhappy about Evelyn.”

      “It’s not Evelyn. I don’t know. Seeing the two of them mooning at each other…”

      Steven’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Sometimes it’s tough to take.”

      The fax machine in the corner rang, then kicked on. Dylan sat brooding while several pages printed. He pushed his chair back, then reached for what appeared to be a contract. Gritting his teeth, he scanned the pages.

      “She’s met my asking price.” He glared at the contract and took a long swallow of Scotch whiskey, welcoming the numbness the liquor instilled.

      Steven refilled his own glass. “You’ve got an offer?”

      Dylan nodded. “This woman came by the other day. Said she was ready to make an offer. When I didn’t hear back, I thought she’d changed her mind.”

      “Even at your asking price, she’s still getting a deal. It’s worth every penny.” He leaned forward, his cropped red hair spiking upward, his gaze intent on Dylan. “It’s not too late. You can back out of this. I know I’ve been pushing for you to get back into the swing of things, but I wasn’t suggesting such a drastic change.”

      Dylan hesitated for a moment. Was he making a mistake? Why was it so hard to let go? His gaze scanned the paneled walls. “No, there’s no going back. This is the only room I spend any time in.”

      “But, Dylan, this house…it means so much to you.