Constance picked up the phone on the second ring and smiled when she heard Lexi’s, “Hello.”

“Hi, Lexi,” she replied.

“Not at the bar tonight?” Lexi asked.

“No, it’s my night off.”

Not that she’d wanted it that way. She’d worked every night since she’d seen Milo last, and she had wanted to, knowing that if she didn’t she’d be alone and have to deal with the fact that she and Milo were over.

Accept that he’d never cared a fraction as much for her as she did for him.

In the face of that prospect, working at the bar until she was almost too exhausted to stand was the perfect solution.

But Callahan had put his foot down tonight, leaving Constance alone except for her memories of Milo.

“It’s good. You can’t drive yourself like that, Constance,” Lexi said.

“I appreciate your concern, Lex, but I’m fine. I’m just trying to make some extra money,” Constance said.

The words were lame lies, but that was her story and she was sticking to it.

“It’ll be okay, Constance,” Lexi said, her voice dropping with her concern.

Despite her low mood, Constance smiled. “It will be. Thanks, Lexi. Say hi to Eric for me.”

After she hung up, Constance burrowed deeper in the couch, her arms wrapped tight around her body. She tried to ward off thoughts of Milo, but as she’d known they would, they came back strong, full-force, before she could stop them.

Her cheek against his cold desk as he pounded into her.

The softness of his lips when he kissed her.

The way the color in his eyes would deepen right before he came.

Each memory intensified the throb between her legs and was an unnecessary reminder of how much she missed his touch. Deep down, she knew no lover would ever compare to him.

Worse, she knew no other man would either.

How foolish could she have been?

She’d known Milo for years, knew that relationships, feelings, were not who he was. Yet she’d allowed herself to get caught up in emotion. She’d let herself think the little looks he gave her, the way he’d stare into her eyes for a second longer, meant something. Let herself think the way his fingers lingered on her skin was his way of expressing emotion without words.

And what had it gotten her?

A broken heart.

She’d thought more than once that she’d made a mistake that first day, that if maybe she had used her brain she wouldn’t be in this position now.

But she knew that was a lie. Because as much as her heart hurt, she wouldn’t trade anything for her time with Milo. She’d treasure the memories forever, knew that she would never get over him fully.

Now, though, she had to try.

She squeezed her fingers tight and then opened them to look down at the key she held in her palm.

When she’d left the first time, she’d been so blind with pain she hadn’t thought to give it back. The same had happened when she’d kicked Milo out of her house.

And for a while she’d been grateful.

It was stupid, really, holding on to that key like it meant something, like it mattered, squeezing it tight as she cried herself to sleep.

But it had been her only physical representation of him, and it had helped her get through some of those darkest nights, the key representing that time when she’d been important to him.

She stared down at it and breathed out a deep sigh.

It was time to let it go.

She looked at the clock, which read 11:15.

Late, but it wasn’t unheard of for Milo to be in the office at this hour.

She’d wait another, and then steal into his office and leave the key behind.

Maybe once it was gone, she’d finally be able to start mending her heart.

It thudded hard as if to mock her, but Constance ignored it.

But she couldn’t ignore the voice in her head that said she’d never get over him.