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    His return to Chicago tonight couldn’t come soon enough.
     
    K ATE DIDN’T PLAN to spend much time in her mother’s house. Edie had packed up everything she really wanted when she’d moved to Florida a few weeks back. The place was immaculate, the cabinets emptied and the furniture covered. All Kate had to do was go through her own personal belongings and load what she wanted to keep into her SUV for the drive back to Chicago.
    There wasn’t much. Edie was a practical person, not an overly sentimental one. So there weren’t scads of toys or Kate’s first-grade papers to sort through. Just some precious items. Family pictures. Her first doll. The stuffed bear her father had given her for her sixth birthday—that was a month before he’d been killed in an accident involving his truck.
    She carefully packed a carton with those things, rubbing the worn fur of the bear, remembering how she’d once been unable to sleep through the night without it curled in her arms. Leaving it behind when she’d left town had been an emotional decision, not a logical one. She’d left to escape her childhood, to escape the burden of her family name and the sadness over her mother’s situation. She’d left everything that might connect her to this place, telling her mother over the years to feel free to get rid of her old stuff. Thankfully, Edie never had. She’d known exactly what to keep. And, judging by the absence of most of her high school junk—with the exception of the programs from plays in which Kate had appeared—what to throw away.
    When she’d nearly finished, Kate noticed the old Arturo Fuente cigar box in the corner of her old room. Opening it, she felt a smile tug her lips as she saw two diaries, an emptypack of cigarettes, the stub of a burned-down candle. Even the tattered, musty Playgirl . Surely her mother hadn’t opened this box—the magazine would have been long discarded, otherwise.
    The memory of prom night descended with the impact of a boulder on her heart. That night had marked the end of teenage illusions. It had enforced adult consciousness, made her see her mother as a woman not merely a parent. Over the years she’d come to accept that moment as something everyone had to go through. While she’d been deeply disappointed, it hadn’t affected her strong feelings for Edie. She loved her as much now as she ever had. And, deep down, she was thankful for having learned the valuable lesson about the fickleness of relationships and the heartbreak of love by seeing what her mother had gone through. It had saved her from ever having to experience it firsthand.
    “Glad you got out, Mom. Now, find some great retired guy down in Florida and grab yourself some happiness.”
    Flipping idly through the Playgirl , she cast a speculative glance at the centerfold. “Not bad.” She liked her men long and lean, though not hairless and smooth-chested like this guy. Though flaccid, he definitely had a decent package, reminding her that it had been a long time since she’d had sex. She’d been surrounded by fake penises of all shapes, colors and sizes for so long, she hardly remembered what a real one looked like.
    “No big loss,” she mused out loud, still staring. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Armand a small, clean vibrating one was her preference these days. She enjoyed sex. But it seemed to be an awful lot of work for an orgasm she could give herself in five minutes flat. Okay, so she’d never stayed with a man enough to really fall in love and couldn’t judge how “making love” compared to sex. Frankly, deep down Kate suspected she would never fall inlove—since love would have to involve trust and vulnerability. She wouldn’t allow anyone to make her vulnerable, not after seeing what it had done to her mother for a couple of decades.
    So sex it was. And sex alone had suited her fine for some time now. As a matter of fact, her favorite new toy—and a hot seller