There Goes My Heart (The Sullivans #20) - Bella Andre Page 0,1

up her things and headed north.

Rory didn’t look like he pitied her, thankfully, though he did note, “That sucks.”

It did. Of course it did. But Zara had been down similar roads with her stepsister for fifteen years now, albeit on a less grand scale. She didn’t blame Brittany for being beautiful and fashionable and irresistible to all men everywhere. Instead, Zara tried to tell herself she was grateful that Brittany had helped her see Cameron’s true colors before she got in too deep. Now her stepsister was stuck with him. Good riddance.

Besides, she’d been through far worse things than this. Her stepsister and her ex getting married would be a walk in the park compared to the loss of her mom when she was fourteen.

Zara shrugged. “They’re good together. Better than he and I ever were. It’s no big deal.” At least, it wouldn’t be once she’d had more to drink.

She reached for the bottle and turned it upside down over her glass. Her aim was no longer great, however, and were it not for the fact that the bottle was nearly empty, she would have drenched the table. She put it down and swiped her fingers through the small pool of sweet bubbles, licked them off, then held up her phone and waved it at Rory.

“I got her text a few minutes before you showed up.” She squinted at the screen, rereading her stepsister’s words. “There’s a party too. Just a small gathering.” Zara almost laughed again. Nothing Brittany did was small. Apart from her waistline.

“When is it?”

Zara rested her chin on her hands. She couldn’t remember the last time her head had felt so heavy, like it was twice as big as it should be. What had Rory just asked? Oh yeah, the party details. “Tomorrow. They’re so excited, she said they can’t wait to celebrate with everyone.” Her stepsister had sent a selfie of Cameron kissing her while she held up a massive diamond ring to the camera.

“Tomorrow works for me,” Rory told her.

Zara’s eyes had been closing, but when his words finally sank into her brain, she goggled at him. “What do your Saturday plans have to do with me?”

“I’m free to go with you.”

Had he lost his mind? “I didn’t ask you to go with me.”

He reached for the roll of paper towels on the counter behind him, his T-shirt riding up to expose a couple of inches of tanned skin, along with abdominal muscles that only made her goggle more.

Gently, he lifted her arms, wiped up the Prosecco puddle beneath them, then said, “Going with me has got to be better than going alone.”

On any normal day, she would have scoffed at that statement. But on one that had begun so awfully, she found herself seriously considering his proposition. She stared at him. “I suppose some people might think you’re attractive.”

That got a low laugh out of him. “I’ve had my share of compliments over the years.”

She rolled her eyes at his fake modesty. “And you’re not at all egotistical.” Her words dripped sarcasm.

“Can’t blame a guy for letting you know you’re on the right track.”

This time, she was the one huffing out a laugh. “Whatever.” She suddenly felt so loose-limbed and numb that she didn’t see the point in prolonging their conversation. “If you really want to come, I guess you’ll do.” She could barely keep her eyes open, but there was one more thing she needed him to know before she gave in to the urge to close them. “You’re going to like my stepsister. Everyone does. Brittany is really pretty. And perfect.”

With that, Zara laid her head on the table and let sleep take her.

CHAPTER TWO

What the heck had he just done?

Rory reached out to take Zara’s bright green glasses off, but though he had to nudge her to get the side of the frame out from between her cheek and arms, she just kept snoring.

They’d worked together for a year, but he wouldn’t have said they were friends. On the contrary, most days they were barely civil.

Case in point: He’d come to the kitchen to give her grief for parking in his space again. Having worked in the building the longest, Rory figured he’d earned the parking spot outside his workshop door. Plus, as a furniture maker, he usually had the heaviest supplies and tools to cart in and out of the building.

Everyone else played by the rules, but Zara never seemed happier than when she was thwarting them—and especially