about him. Zach. Yeah. He made her happy. He’d always made her happy.
“Zach,” she whispered.
“Abigale, I can’t hear you.”
She licked her lips and cleared her throat before she tried again. “You probably don’t want to, darling,” she said mockingly. “But you asked if anything about that life made me happy and the answer is yes. It’s Zach. So . . . there you go. And I don’t have to go back to Hollywood to have him.”
She never seemed to notice that I was staring at her when she walked into the room.
“Zach . . .” Anger edged into his voice. “You actually think he can make you happy?”
“He already does.” Ice crept through her as she thought about what had happened over the past few hours. But even aside from that, Zach had always made her happy.
“You’re not serious about this,” Roger said, his voice cool. “You need somebody at your side who will support you. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
“Support?” She snorted. “I think you just wanted to be along for the ride if I ever did go back to Hollywood. You wanted it for yourself . . . not me.”
He waited just a second too long to respond. “That’s insane, Abigale. We were together because we were a good fit. And I just wanted—”
“I don’t care. Whatever you wanted wasn’t what was right for me. Now, I think I’ve said everything to you that I needed to say. I don’t think you need to call me anymore,” she said softly. Without waiting for a response, she disconnected the phone.
Then she focused on the road.
There. She’d accomplished the second goal. She still needed to flip off a photographer but once that was done, she’d have done everything on her new plan.
The torrid affair . . .
Her throat ached, even thinking about it.
“Not now.” She rubbed her temple. She needed to get off the road, get to the hotel.
Screw the liquor store.
She needed a clear head because she had serious, hard thinking to do.
* * *
“You haven’t seen Abby, have you?”
“Huh?”
Zach shoved a hand through his hair and glared at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Zane lived in Albuquerque. She’d just driven away from his shop in a fury a few hours ago. No. It wasn’t likely that Zane had seen her, but neither had anybody else and he was worried.
Hell, he was so desperate, he’d even called Roger. If he could talk to that asshole, then there was no reason he couldn’t call his brother and wake him up at midnight . . . although . . .
“Hey, why in the hell are you in bed at midnight? You’re a fucking bartender.”
Zane grunted. “Night off and I’m tired. What’s this about Abby? No, I haven’t seen her unless she just up and relocated.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Zach tipped his head back. “I meant have you talked to her. She just . . . hell. I saw her a few hours ago, but . . . we kind of had a fight. I can’t get her to talk to me and I’m worried.”
“Ah . . . shit.” Zane’s voice was low and groggy and a few moments of silence stretched out, as well as a mumbled curse, followed by a grunt. “Fuck. No, I haven’t talked to her. What’s going on? What are you two fighting about?”
With his heart twisting, Zach said, “I don’t want to get into it.”
“Can’t believe you two are fighting already,” Zane said, his sigh coming across the phone loud and clear, and grating on Zach’s nerves.
“Oh, fuck off.” He started to hang up.
“Hell, Zach. Ease up,” Zane said. “Look . . . hell. Okay. I just— I can listen if you need to talk. I’m definitely the best bet if you gotta vent, you know that. Unless you want to give Seb a ring.”
“I’d like to wring his fucking neck.” Blowing out a sigh, Zach leaned against the car and continued to stare up at Abby’s dark, quiet house. He wouldn’t be able to loiter much longer. If he hung around here indefinitely, somebody was likely to call the cops and wouldn’t that just cap his night off nicely? He’d thought about going inside, but he didn’t think that was the right way to handle it. Of course, waiting in her driveway like a stalker wasn’t exactly ideal, either, he thought.
“Did you know that . . .” Blood crept up his neck. He could feel it, the red crawl of