“Right on. I could use a drink,” Steph agreed and vanished
into the bathroom. Cheyenne took advantage of the opportunity
to hide Steph’s laptop in the guestroom closet in case she had
any other bright ideas. She made a quick call to Scot to check on Liam and let him know she was staying a few days.
They proceeded to the nearest café, chatting about every-
thing else in the world but Fury. After dinner and a bottle of
wine, they wandered into a nearby wine bar and had another.
They were chuckling about how Steph’s former assistant, Ger-
ald. was now more of a diva than she was. Steph was smiling
from ear to ear at Cheyenne’s news that he was now the lead
photographer for The Sound Wave.
It was at that moment that an extremely unfortunate-looking
girl appeared in front of them. She proceeded to shout angrily at Steph in Italian. When Cheyenne told at her to calm down, the
girl slapped Steph hard across the face and screamed “He cut his hair because of you, you bitch!” Steph grabbed her cheek defensively as two men stood and aggressively showed the girl the
exit. Steph turned to Cheyenne. Her expression was eerily se-
rene.
“This is why I never leave my apartment. Everywhere I go,
he’s thrown in my face. I can’t escape him.”
“You should have called me.” As Cheyenne dumped ice in-
to a cloth napkin and pressed it to Steph’s cheek, the two men
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returned from throwing the girl out. They struck up a conversa-
tion with Steph in Italian, and soon Steph was laughing appreciatively.
“They called her a ‘hairy beast.’ They want us to go with
them to check out some club on the next street over. We should
go.”
Two hours and many drinks later, Cheyenne was dragging
Steph from the club. Cheyenne was hailing a cab when she saw
that the two men were following them. Cheyenne had waved her
giant rock on her finger around to make it obvious that she was
married, so they had both turned on Steph. Steph seemed to
bathe in the attention and had been dancing way too suggestively with both of the men. Though Cheyenne didn’t understand the
language, the way their hands were all over Steph was pretty
universal. It didn’t take a linguist to see that they both thought they’d be sharing Steph tonight.
“Oh, hell no!” she yelled, grabbing Steph by the arm and
plunging toward the door.
“Cheyenne!” Steph blurted as Cheyenne shoved her into the
cab.
“That was a grand performance. I give it a ten.” Cheyenne
watched the men wander back into the club as they sped away.
She told the driver in her terrible Italian how to get to Steph’s place.
“I thought you wanted me to get out and have some fun. “
Cheyenne remembered craving a cigarette then more than
ever. “There’s fun and there’s a public ménage à trois.”
“In Italian they call it a trio.” Steph giggled tipsily. Steph’s cheeky tone set Cheyenne off.
“Grow the fuck up, Steph. You’re almost twenty-seven
years old, not twenty-one. Act your age.”
Steph looked stricken. “Why are you mad at me?”
Cheyenne swiveled her head toward her, and all the pent up
hurt of the past few months burst from inside her. “My goddamn
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
therapist warned me that some of my single friends would be
gone when I married Scot, but I never thought you’d be one of
them. I know you feel awkward being around him because of the
break up with Phillip, but honestly, I’m hurt that you haven’t
come to see Liam.”
Steph looked at Cheyenne, her mouth agape. Cheyenne ex-
pected her to say something snarky, but Steph just blinked a few times.
“I just can’t see Liam. I can’t look at him.” The cab arrived,
and Cheyenne was still shaking her head, dumbfounded and an-
gry as they climbed out.
“I couldn’t pry him out of your arms at the hospital. What
changed?” She shouted at her.
It was there in front of her apartment that Steph collapsed
into hysterical sobs. Cheyenne was so shocked and concerned
that she considered calling a doctor. She moved to her and put
her arms around her, unsure of what else to do. Steph choked out the one sentence.
“I was pregnant. Cheyenne. It wasn’t my appendix.”
Cheyenne remembered every detail of that night in vivid
Technicolor. Though she hadn’t slept a wink, it was branded into her brain. She’d managed to get Steph upstairs and made her
some coffee. Steph told her everything: her lie of omission to
Phillip, the bogus eating disorder, telling her agent about the ba-by, Cedric’s force feedings, and finally about the daughter who
had been genetically flawless.
After Steph passed out from wine and exhaustion, Chey-
enne immediately called Cedric. It was 4 a.m.
“Cheyenne? What’s wrong?” He sounded worried.
“How fast can you get to Milan?”
Cheyenne heard the bathroom door open and watched as
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Steph came out in a fluffy white bathrobe. She crossed to her bed and sat down beside Liam, very gently stroking his hair. He
rolled over onto his tummy without waking.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Steph asked softly,
glancing up from Liam.
“Why the hell haven’t you called Christopher?” Cheyenne
demanded in a hushed whisper.
“Because I don’t know what to say to him.” Steph’s voice
was cool and firm.
Cheyenne paused, knowing she could be headed into chop-
py waters. “Is that because of Phillip?”
“No.” Steph replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Chris-
topher told me he loved me, and I hung up on him. That’s what
this is about, and that’s all this is about.”
“So, once again, you scurried away again from a man that
loves you.”
Steph rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. “I’m
pretty sure I didn’t scurry away from Phillip. Pretty sure Kevin scurried away from me. If I remember correctly, you were the
scurrier, Cheyenne.”
Cheyenne ignored Steph’s factual observation and leaned
forward. “Do you love Christopher?”
Steph shrugged. Cheyenne thought she looked like a stub-
born teenager.
“Why is it so hard for you say those three words?” Chey-
enne asked. A light rapping on the door interrupted them. Steph
looked in the direction of the door nervously, but when Chey-
enne answered it—it was Scot.
“Is it okay if I come in?” he asked, and his dark eyes had a
secret conversation with Cheyenne. They
