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his slow smiles.
    “For the record,” he said, holding his hand up, “he and I are only related through marriage so it doesn’t really count.”
    Regan leaned back in her chair and huffed out a long breath. “What the hell does she see in him?”
    “Aw, Ben’s okay. Just a little intense.” He set his bottle down, then leaned on his elbows. “So…a chick who’s not into the whole picket-fence and minivan scene. That’s different.”
    “I’m not a chick.”
    “Right. And where do you stand on running off to join the Church?”
    “Not Catholic, either.”
    “Excellent.” His eyes warmed, teasing her. “Then we’ll have no problem just using each other for sex.”
    “Ohmygod.” Half snort, half laugh, Ben forgotten, she twisted left, then right, making sure no one else had heard him. “What is wrong with you?”
    “Hey,” he said. “I’m not saying we should get down to business right here on Nick’s kitchen table, but—” He was cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket. Reluctantly he glanced down at the display and sighed. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
    He hustled out of the room and down the hall, the phone pressed against one ear, his free hand pressed against the other. “Dr. Scott here.”
    Just as well; Regan needed to get going anyway. She slid off her chair, set her plate and empty bottle by the sink, and turned to go just as Jayne came barreling toward the kitchen.
    “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine.” It wasn’t even a lie. Despite Ben, and despite her mood when she’d first arrived, the party hadn’t been half as horrid as she expected it to be, and that was mostly thanks to Carter. “Thanks for inviting me, but, uh, I’m gonna go.”
    “You can’t—” Jayne stopped in mid-argument, which wasn’t like her at all. “I’m sorry about Ben. He’s…well, he’s Ben.”
    “I’m not leaving because of him. I just have to go.”
    “We’re lucky she stayed his long.” Maya walked up behind Jayne, dismissing the whole conversation with an odd, gentle smile and a wave of her hand. “She’s usually on the couch with New Year’s Rockin’ Eve blaring from the TV by now. She’s weird.”
    “I’m not weird,” Regan chuckled, shrugged. “I just…whatever. Maybe I’m a little weird.”
    “Okay.” Jayne’s mouth twisted, her eyes narrowed. “I’ll get Nick to walk you home.”
    “It’s five blocks, Jayne, I’ll be fine.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Nick pushing to his feet, but with one pointed look from her, he grinned and sat back down. She flicked a quick glance at the bachelors, offering them each a quick nod. “Nice to meet you both. Happy New Year, everyone.”
    A spattering of Happy New Years followed her and Jayne to the door.
    “Sorry about Leon,” Jayne whispered. “I guess he wasn’t the best choice for you.”
    “Ya think?” Regan teased. “I appreciate the effort, really, but I’m not looking for a Leon, or an anyone, for that matter.”
    “I know, but—” Jayne stopped, sighed.
“Fine.”
    “Thank you. Talk to you tomorrow?” With a quick parting hug, Regan walked out the door and headed into the night.
    She’d done a good job of holding it together at Jayne’s, but now she could breathe normally again. She could stop pretending she was fine, that it wasn’t a big deal her salon was closed, and that going home was just one of her quirks. No matter how well-meaning her friends were, none of them needed to know she was, in fact,
not
fine, or that losing her salon was like losing a huge part of herself. And they sure as hell didn’t need to know the real reason she always spent New Year’s Eve at home.
    The clouds from earlier in the day lingered, making the dark seem gloomy, almost spooky, and though the wind wasn’t sharp, it gusted in great heaves, pushing her forward at first, then shoving her back a second later.
    Within five minutes, she was walking past the giant Nativity scene lit up in front of her apartment