Gia sank to the bathroom floor. She hugged herself. Told herself to snap out of it. Sobbed some more. Reached for big gobs of toilet paper. Sopped at her face.
Stop it, stop it, stop it.
Nothing doing. Her body shook. Her mouth filled with salty tears.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
“Honeysuckle? You okay?”
Honeysuckle.
A fake term of endearment for a fake engagement. She felt sad. Sad and angry and filled with grief she had not processed for twenty years because she hadn’t wanted to burden her family with her sorrow.
She couldn’t answer him. Her throat was too constricted.
“Gia?”
“Pl-please . . .” She gulped back the knot of tears blocking her throat.
The next thing she knew he was in the bathroom with her. Darn it. Why hadn’t she locked the door?
He took one look at her and shook his head.
From her past relationships with men, she expected him to either panic over the tears, and get the hell out of there, or ask her a million questions as he went into caveman mode to solve her problems for her.
But Mike did neither of those things.
Instead, he sank down on the floor beside her and hauled her into his lap. He did not say a word. Just held her and let her sob it out against his shoulder.
When she was done, he handed her a fresh batch of toilet paper.
She dabbed her face and apologized. “I’m an ugly crier.”
“Don’t put labels on yourself like that, Short Stack. No one looks good swamped in tears. You’re not supposed to look good when you’re crying, but damn if you don’t. Even red-eyed and runny-nosed, you look beautiful to me.”
Her body shuddered as she shook off the rest of the tears.
They sat for a good long time on the floor until Gia’s butt got numb. “I hope you didn’t start those eggs for the breakfast burritos yet. Otherwise they’re burned.”
“They’re ready to assemble. I was waiting for you.”
Gia swiped at her eyes. “You’re amazing.”
“Nah,” he said. “Just a guy who finally learned how to give women the space they need to feel what they’re feeling.”
“You should teach classes,” she said. “I know a few guys who could use your brand of sensitivity training.”
“Ah, Short Stack, you’re not calling me sensitive, are you? I’ll have to surrender my man card.”
“I’m just stunned to have a friend like you.”
His eyes darkened, and his voice lowered. “After last night, I hope you’re looking at me as a whole lot more than that.”
There was that panic again that she’d felt earlier. The squeeze that said, slow down, Gia, things are moving too fast.
But this was Mike and he was so great. Why was she afraid of progressing?
“Thanks for putting up with me, but I’m going to have to skip breakfast. Madison and Shelley promised they’d get back to work on the wedding quilt and I need to be there to make sure they don’t flake.”
“Okay.” He looked confused but didn’t push her. “Just know I’m right here if you should need me.”
“Thanks,” Gia said, but instead of making her feel safe and secure, that only caused her to feel more pressured than ever.
* * *
GIA ESCAPED MIKE’S house as fast as her legs would carry her. Heart pounding, confounded by her desire to run, she rushed up the back steps of the Moonglow Inn to find Shelley waiting on the porch.
Her sister had put the quilt in the wooden frame and arranged three chairs around it, and set out the sewing notions, but there was no sign of Maddie.
“Are you all right?” Shelley asked.
“Yes, sure, why wouldn’t I be?” You slept with Mike. Everything’s changed. You can’t handle it. You’re anything but all right.
“O-kay.” Shelley held up both palms. “Forget I asked.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be snappy. Was I snappy?”
“You were channeling Madison a bit, but that’s not always a bad thing. The woman does know how to stand up for herself.”
“And I don’t.” Sighing, Gia sank down in the chair across from Shelley.
“Are you sure you’re—”
“I’m fine.”
“Gotcha.”
Just then Madison came into view, storming up from the beach, and headed toward the porch, a thundercloud frown on her face.
“Uh-oh,” Shelley said. “She makes your mood look like a smile convention.”
Simultaneously, they stood.
Her face twisted into a mask of rage, Madison stalked up the steps on wooden legs, her fisted hands clutched at her sides, her rage directed squarely at Shelley.
“You slept with Raoul?” she howled.
Shelley shrunk back and raised her arms over her face as if to protect