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door.

CHAPTER THREE
    T HE MOON HAD RISEN, climbed into a bank of clouds, and disappeared.
    Sighing, Chase switched on the lamp beside his chair and wished he could pull a stunt like that. Maybe then people would stop looking at him as if he might just come up with a solution to an impossible situation.
    But the simple truth was that impossible situations required improbable solutions, and he didn’t have any. His mind was a blank. At this point, he wasn’t even sure what day it was. The only thing he knew for certain was that a few hours ago, he’d been the father of—the bride. Now he was the father of—what did you call a young woman who’d gotten to the airport and then told her brand-new husband that they’d made an awful mistake and she wanted out?
    Smart. That was what Chase would have called her, twenty-four hours ago, when he’d have given just about anything if Dawn had decided to put her wedding off until she was older and, hopefully, wiser.
    Chase closed his eyes wearily. But his daughter hadn’t decided to put off her wedding. She’d gone through with it, which put a different spin on things. More than canceling arrangements with the church and the caterer were involved here. Dawn and Nick were bound together, in the eyes of God and in accordance with the laws of the state of Connecticut.
    Severing that bond was a lot more complicated than it would have been a few hours ago. And it sure didn’t help that Dawn kept weeping and saying she loved Nick with all her heart, it was just that she couldn’t, wouldn’t, mustn’t stay married to him.
    Chase put his hand to the back of his neck and tried to rub the tension out of his muscles. He had no idea what she was talking about, and neither did Nick, the poor, bewildered bastard. Not even Annie understood; Chase was certain of that, and never mind the way she’d kept saying, “I understand, sweetheart,” while she’d rocked Dawn in her arms.
    â€œ What do you understand?” Chase had asked her in exasperation, when she’d come hurrying out of the bedroom after she’d finally convinced Dawn to lie down and try to get some sleep. Annie had shot him one of those men-are-so-stupid looks women did so well and said she didn’t understand anything, but she wasn’t about to upset Dawn by telling her that.
    â€œDammit, Annie,” Chase had roared, and that had done it. Nick had come running, Dawn had started crying, Annie had called him a name he hadn’t even figured she knew...hell, he thought wearily, it was a good thing Annie didn’t have a dog, or it would have gotten in on the act and taken a chunk out of his ankle.
    â€œNow see what you’ve done,” Annie had snarled, and the door to Dawn’s room had slammed in his bewildered face.
    Chase groaned. He was tired. So tired. There’d been no sound from behind the closed door for hours now. Annie and his daughter were probably asleep. Even Nick had finally fallen into exhausted slumber on the sofa in the living room.
    Maybe, if he just put his head back for a five-minute snooze...
    â€œDammit!”
    Chase’s head bobbed like a yo-yo on a string. That was just what he’d needed, all right. Oh, yeah. Nothing like a little whiplash for neck muscles that already felt knotted.
    â€œStupid chair,” he muttered, and sprang to his feet.
    For a minute there, he’d forgotten he wasn’t in the den he and Annie had shared for so many years. Annie had dumped all the old furniture when she’d bought this house. She’d filled these rooms with little bits and pieces of junk. Antiques, she called them, but junk is what the stuff was. Delicate junk, at that. Sofas and tables with silly legs, chairs with no headrests...
    â€œYou kick that chair, Chase Cooper, and I swear, I’ll kick you!”
    Chase swung around. His ex-wife stood in the entrance to the room. She’d exchanged her