I ignore the agony, which is so strong it feels physical, and demand, “Where is she?”
Rake steps out and grabs my arm, taking me to Anna and Arrow’s room.
“She won’t come out,” he says, pain flashing in his eyes. “I can’t save her from this, Lana. I don’t know what to do.”
I pull my arm from his hold and walk into the room without bothering to knock. Arrow is sitting there next to her. She has her knees to her chest, and she’s sobbing into them.
“Arrow, can you give me a second?” I ask quietly.
He nods, kissing her forehead, then looking at me. His eyes plead with me.
Fix her, they say.
Make it better.
I nod at the door. I want to be alone with my best friend. As soon as he leaves, I climb into the bed with her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.
“You want to tell me what this is about?” I ask quietly.
She lays her head on my collarbone, and I wrap her tightly in my arms. “I went to the doctor.”
I stiffen, swallowing hard. “What did they say? Are you ill?”
She shakes her head, but says nothing.
“Goddammit, tell me, Anna!” I say, starting to panic.
“I just wanted to be sure . . . so I did some tests. . . . And . . .” She starts sobbing.
I want to shake her. “Tell me.”
“I can’t have children. They think I might have blocked fallopian tubes,” she says, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her T-shirt. “I might never be able to have kids. They want to run more tests, but . . . God, Lana. I can’t even give Arrow kids.”
I sigh in relief that she isn’t sick, or dying, then rub her back soothingly. “Okay . . . first of all, do all the tests. You can still try IVF.”
“I suppose,” she whispers.
“You know what?” I tell her in a gentle tone. “You try the IVF, if that doesn’t work, I swear to you, I will carry your baby for you. I’ll be your surrogate. You want a kid, you’re going to get one.”
She looks me right in the eye. “You mean that?”
“I do. I promise. I’d do that for you in a heartbeat. My uterus is your uterus.”
She laughs softly at that, some of the misery of her face clearing.
“Hard road ahead, Anna,” I tell her. “But you will have a baby, all right? Might take a little more time than you wanted. But everything will work out.”
We spend the next hour talking everything over.
“I better get going. You’re going to be okay,” I tell her, smiling. “Hey, I got invited to attend a book signing next week, about five hours from here. You want to come with me?”
“I’d love to,” she says, smiling. “Finally get to meet some of your fangirls. Don’t worry, Lana, I’ll keep your ass humble.”
My lip twitches. “Good to know.”
She walks me to her door and opens it. Arrow is waiting on the other side. Did he just stand there the whole time? He enters the room, and exhales deeply, seeing her in a much better condition than she was in before.
“Thanks, Lana,” he says. “I owe you. You ever need anything, you call me, all right?”
I give him a small smile. “What are friends for?”
I walk toward the front door, make sure not to look in the direction that I last saw Tracker.
“Lana!” Anna calls out just as I pass the living room.
“Yeah?” I ask, turning around.
“You’re the best person I know.”
“Right back at you,” I say, waving, then I make my way
to my car. I’m at my car door when I hear his voice from behind me.
“You gonna leave without even looking at me?”
I turn my head over my shoulder, keeping my face impassive. “Happy now?”
“No, I’m not fuckin’ happy,” he says, glancing over me. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I’m not your problem anymore, Tracker,” I say, unlocking my car door and opening it. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.” I get in without another glance at him, although I can feel his gaze on me the entire time I pull out of the driveway.
I’d hate to pull him away from my replacement.
TWENTY-FIVE
TODAY is the day of my book signing.
My cover model, the sexy Wyatt Bruce, attends with me, along with Anna.
“He’s hot,” she says for the tenth time. “I think my fallopian tubes just unblocked themselves.”
Well, it’s a good sign if she’s making jokes about it.
“Be quiet, he’s going to hear you,” I say with a grin as we figure out how to put up my banner.
“Need some help?” Wyatt asks.
“I think we might,” I say, looking to Anna, who is holding a pole and scrunching up her face. The picture rail in this conference room is a good two feet higher than our upstretched hands.
“I got it,” he says, chuckling.
He has the banner up in thirty seconds.
Anna starts stacking my books into neat little piles on the table, rambling about presentation, while I try and calm my nerves. What if no one wants a book signed? Most people probably don’t even know who I am.
I’m a bestselling author, I remind myself. Now isn’t the time to second-guess myself. My books have sold worldwide, and I was invited to the event. I’ve been invited to others before, but this is the first one I’ve accepted.
I’m nervous.