Her footsteps faltered slightly as an alarming thought hit her upside the head.
What if that was the reason Jill had said yes to Tom’s spontaneous proposal?
Not because she wanted to marry Tom, but because she wanted everything that came with it.
Maggie stopped with her, turning her warm brown eyes on Jill in concern.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Jill said, tugging her ponytail. “Maybe not. I don’t know.”
Maggie glanced up ahead at the other two women. “You want to go somewhere? Talk?”
Jill smiled. “You mean without Elena interrupting every five seconds?”
Maggie smiled back. “My sister-in-law can be… opinionated.”
Jill sucked in a breath at Maggie’s statement.
There. That was what was bothering her. When Maggie had said sister-in-law, Jill felt it all the way to her bones.
The truth of what was bugging Jill hit her like a bucket of ice water. Her three best friends were all part of the Moretti clan. Officially.
Elena was a Moretti. Maggie was a Moretti by marriage. And Jill had no doubt that Luc and Ava had a wedding in their future.
Which meant…
It meant that Jill was the only one of the group who wasn’t a Moretti. Would never be a Moretti.
And sure, they treated her like family now, but what about when she married Tom? What about if—when—she moved to Chicago…?
Jill sucked in a gasping breath.
Maggie put her hand on Jill’s back in alarm. “What’s going on, honey?”
“I don’t want to move to Chicago,” Jill said. The declaration came out a little breathy.
She bent over and rested both hands on her knees. Her breathing got even shorter—the air harder to come by as though it refused to enter her lungs.
Elena and Ava had apparently realized that they’d lost two of their group and turned back, and then they were there, each of them every bit as concerned as Maggie.
“What’s going on?” Ava asked.
“No big deal,” Jill said weakly. “Just having a breakdown here on the sidewalk for all to see.”
“Talk to us, Jilly,” Elena said, her voice gentler than usual.
Jill opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“She doesn’t want to move to Chicago,” Maggie explained quietly.
“Well, of course she doesn’t,” Elena cooed, cupping Jill’s face and searching her features as though looking for open wounds. “We’re not in Chicago.”
Jill smiled. Weakly, but still a smile.
“Have you told Tom this?” Ava asked.
Jill shook her head.
“You have to,” Ava said firmly. Kindly. “You’re one half of the relationship. You get a say.”
“I know,” Jill said, biting her lip. “I know that. And it’s not like he made a unilateral decision. We talked about it, and I agreed, thinking that maybe a change would…”
She broke off and the other three women waited patiently for whatever breakthrough Jill wasn’t sure she had the courage to reach for.
Maggie’s hand stroked her back. “A change would what—what do you need to change?”
Jill glanced at the ground, and Elena made a knowing, understanding sound. “Vincent.”
Jill’s head snapped up. “Vin and I are fine.”
Nobody said anything for several long seconds.
Ava broke the silence. “Maybe that’s the problem, hun. Maybe you want more than fine.”
Jill would have backed away from them had they not been surrounding her so completely. Instead, she settled for shaking her head. “I’m not following.”
It was a cop-out. She knew exactly what they were getting at. But denial was the easier path. And right now, Jill needed easy.
Elena’s fingers gently wrapped around Jill’s arm as she tugged her forward. “Let’s finish this conversation at my place.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Jill said stubbornly. “Vincent’s my partner, and he’s happy for me. We work great together, sure, but he’s the best detective in the city. He’ll get another partner, and—”
“And what?” Ava prompted as she lifted her slim arm to hail a cab.
Vincent will find another partner.
She’d be replaced.
Granted, it’d be of her own doing. She’d be leaving him. But the thought of him showing up to a crime scene with someone else by his side, talking over beers about a case with someone else…
Jill’s mouth tasted distinctly bitter.
“It’s just work,” she said quietly, to nobody in particular. “We’re just partners.”
None of the other women responded as they piled into the cab, and the long silence held an uncomfortable truth:
What if just partners was no longer enough?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
You’re grumpy today,” Vincent said, handing Jill a mocha.
She took a sip of her sugary coffee. “That’s supposed to be my line.”
He studied her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “You good?”
“Yeah, real good,” she snapped.
She wasn’t good. At all.
Tom was flying in from Florida tonight, and she should be over the moon, but instead she felt… nervous.
She had butterflies, but not the kind she’d been wishing for just days earlier. Instead she had a terrible sense of foreboding.