a yearly event for her and had been since the second anniversary of her husband’s death.
Absently, she stroked her thumb along the curve of her wedding ring. She didn’t always wear it, but today, she’d felt the need to. Actually, it wasn’t today. It was how close it was to the anniversary of his death. Five years now. He’d been gone for five years.
A knot lodged in her heart and she rubbed her left hand over her chest. The ache wasn’t as bad now as it had been. She wasn’t living her life in mourning over him. She just hadn’t found anybody who’d ever made her heart stop the way he had.
Tears pricked her eyes and she threw the pen down, pressing her fingers to her eyes. She needed to quit thinking about it or she wasn’t going to get this shit finished tonight. And she needed to get it done. The benefit was next week. It was the way she kept her mind occupied this time of year. So she didn’t have to think about him lying in that hospital bed... It shouldn’t have happened.
A sob caught in her throat. Brant had been a cop, a detective working what should have been a rather mundane burglary case. But when he’d knocked on the door to a suspect’s apartment one night, he’d found more than he’d bargained for. His partner had died on the scene. Brant took a bullet in the spine that severed his spinal cord. He’d fought...so damn strong.
And he’d lingered.
Then, pneumonia settled in, and it was the infection that ultimately killed him. Rocki had been able to say good-bye. It didn’t make it any easier, she didn’t think.
He was still gone. She was still alone. Blowing out a breath, she grabbed a tissue and wiped the tears away, frowning as she saw the smear of mascara. “Smudge-proof, my ass.” She swallowed around the knot in her throat and then closed her eyes. The ache of loneliness lodged inside right now was a living, breathing beast...her constant companion.
Brant wouldn’t want this. She knew that. Hell, she didn’t want it. But she couldn’t look at another man without wishing he was more like Brant. And unless she could find somebody she liked enough for who he was without comparing him to her deceased husband...well, that was a relationship doomed before it got started.
She couldn’t even think of a guy who came close.
Suddenly, one face danced through her mind. She shoved it aside. Mr. Gorgeous wasn’t even a possibility. Whether he was engaged to an ice-bitch or not, he was still very much taken. She didn’t even want to dream about a taken man.
“Especially if he has taste that bad,” she muttered, trying to cheer herself.
It didn’t work.
Sighing, she forced herself to focus on the mess on her desk. Everything for the benefit still needed to be checked and gone over so she could get back to her assistant. She needed to go through the mail. The Lush designs needed to be looked at, orders checked.
The joys of being a small business owner...
Nearly two hours later, Rocki had finished the paperwork and focused on the mail. Bills, bills, junk, bills, bills, tax-related crap—oh, joy, more bills. She frowned as she came across a heavy-weight envelope. The blocky handwriting on the front was unfamiliar, but it was addressed to her. Not the business. Her.
Odd. Using her letter opener, she sliced it open and pulled out a card.
The card was blank. But not empty. The photo that spilled out was her, in black and white. An image of her walking to her car one evening. A shiver raced down her spine.
Not again...
Swallowing, Rocki turned the picture over. And when she saw that it was blank, she breathed all over again. Shit. Oh, shit. For a minute there, she’d been...
But this wasn’t the same. If it had been the same, he would have written something. He would have to let her know it was him. Memories from years earlier tried to rush out at her. But she pushed them back. She wouldn’t let that time overwhelm her. Her fingers tightened, and she almost crumpled the picture. She stopped herself, though. With fingers that shook, she tucked the photo back into the card, and the card back into the envelope.
No, there was nothing on it. Not like before.
But that didn’t mean anything. She wouldn’t call about it yet.
She’d be careful, though. Damn careful.
It could very well be nothing.
However, she knew from experience, it could