“You have four new messages.”

I stared stonily at my answering machine. If it were up to me I’d be ignoring the little bastard, but the blinking red light on it lit up the dark when I switched off my bedroom light. If I wanted to pretend I was going to get some sleep tonight, I was going to have to listen to the messages or delete them so the blinking would cease.

It had not been a good day.

My face was swollen and puffy. I hadn’t eaten a thing. I drank two glasses of wine I’d then puked up, and because I hadn’t eaten anything it was just red liquid that came back up, and that had made me want to vomit again.

My cell had rung, the chorus of Alanis Morrisette’s “You Oughta Know” flooding my apartment at least a dozen times, so I’d put it on silent. That didn’t work, because people just called the apartment instead and left messages on the answering machine.

If I listened to the messages I had no doubt in my mind that they would make me feel worse.

And yet I’d discovered that worse than the pain of watching the man I loved walk out on me was the cruel, grasping, cloying pain of that abysmal little thing called hope. It clung to me. It whispered in my ear.

There’s still time.

He could change his mind.

When you walk into work tomorrow he’ll take one look at you and he’ll want you back.

I hated that hope. I hated that it made me feel so weak and broken by him. Like without him, without that hope, I’d never, ever quite be the same again.

I hated that he had that power over me.

And I hated that that stupid hope had me thinking that perhaps one of the four messages was from Caine.

He could have called to change his mind.

Sighing impatiently at my pitifulness, I stabbed a finger at the button to listen to my messages.

“You received a message today at nine oh seven … Lexie, it’s me,” my grandfather’s deep voice rumbled into the room. “I hate the way we left it last night, sweetheart. Call me. We need to talk …” Upon listening to the irritating answer service lady’s options, I deleted the message, needing to be numb from the pain he’d caused me too.

“You received a message today at ten forty-four … Lexie. It’s Effie. What has happened? Caine wouldn’t let me into his apartment this morning. He was a snippy little shit and he’s never like that with me. He says he’s changing the locks. What’s going on? Call me right away.”

The ache in my chest intensified at the panic in Effie’s voice. Caine was shutting her out too. I squeezed my eyes closed, rubbing at the throb of pain behind them. What on earth had I walked in on last night? What secret was he hiding that had set him off?

I sighed and pressed the button again.

“You received a message today at two twenty … Hey, it’s me,” Rachel greeted. “I’m just calling to see how the ball went last night. I still can’t believe you attend balls. Wait. Was it a ball? Or a gala? Or do you just call it a party? What is the difference and does anyone whose head isn’t up their ass actually give a fuck? Did you wear the Jenny Packham, you lucky bitch? Please tell me that hot Neanderthal didn’t rip it off your body and ruin a three-thousand-dollar dress. On second thought, don’t tell me anything. If my jealousy increases over a certain level, I will have to end our friendship. Anyway, gorgeous, call me. I want the delicious details …”

Tears clogged my throat and I stubbornly swallowed them down. I’d cried enough tears today to fill a very deep well.

I was done.

I had to get a grip on myself so I could face Caine tomorrow with some goddamn dignity.

Bracing myself, I pressed the button again … a little breathless with anticipation.

“You received a message today at three oh two … Lexie.” Effie’s voice dashed my hope that I’d hear from Caine. “I just wanted you to know that Caine cooled down and he dropped by to see me … He told me what happened, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry. I’ve tried reasoning with him, but I … I think he’s hiding something. Just … don’t give up on him. When he goes Mr. Big Chill on me I know he’s feeling things deeper than usual. It’s his way of coping. I … Please don’t give up on him …”

The familiar sharp stinging in my nose declared the arrival of my tears before I could halt them. The sound of Effie begging me to help someone we loved killed me. Because I wanted to … God, I wanted to if it meant Caine would come back to me …

But … he hadn’t left a message.

There was this huge part of me that was hurt beyond repair … a huge part of me that was so tired of coming in last with the people I loved. A huge part of me that was sick of doing all the saving.

And I realized that more than anything right now I needed to take care of me. My whole life was up in the air … because of him.

I had a heart to heal and a career to fix.

I didn’t know if I had it in me quite yet to fight some more for Caine.