"What are you going to do?" Georgia asks. Leave it up to the sensible one in the group to cut to the chase.

"I don't have a choice. I'll pay Lucy rent and have a place there." I fiddle with my cocktail napkin. "It's only three months."

"The last three months before your marathon." Georgia brushes her loose crimson curls out of her blue eyes.

I forgot all about the marathon, and how moving will affect my real life. My heart flutters. I don't know what I'll do without my daily dose of Bo. I know all his t-shirts by heart. I know exactly what he will wear before I begin running behind him.

"I'll be back for the marathon," I confirm. But I know there is no way I'm going to be motivated to run in Cincinnati, much less continue to train for the marathon.

Lucy laughs so hard that she has to put her hand down to catch herself from falling over. Her laughter is contagious. We have no idea what we are smiling about.

"There is a bright side." She wraps her hands around her stomach. "No more midnight phone calls. You can visit Aunt Grace every day."

We all laugh. It's true. Laughter is the best medicine. Even if I know I'm going to be sick.

Chapter Five.

Girls' night is over by midnight, and it's too early for me to go home-especially when I know Bo's bar is hoping.

If I hurry, I can make it there in twenty minutes, and have a cocktail while I tell him about me moving. I picture him grabbing me and begging me not to go. No harm in wishful thinking, right?

The city is more alive than ever and the night life sounds are electric. The laughter, the fighting sounds of drunken lovers, the zooming cars all feed into my senses. I better savor it now, because Cincinnati night-life is nowhere near this exciting.

I wind my way through the crowd to get to the bar. All sorts of people frequent the place. Bo has an ingenious way of doing business and catering to varied clientele.

The seating is the shape of quarter-moon with black velvet coverings. The red and black plush pillows add to the comfort. The tables are also geometrically shaped to fit the bench. The bar is all cherry wood, with tall cherry bar stools covered with leather. This is definitely a high-end blues bar.

Bo is nowhere in sight, as usual. I sit next to a couple completely making out to a Stevie Ray Vaughan song the band is belting out.

"Get a room." My hand tries to slap the words back in my mouth when I realize what I just said.

I completely let that one slip.

"What did you say?" The female half of the couple, a low-baring halter-top, bimbo leans into my face. She pokes me with her fiberglass fake fingernail. "Loser."

I laugh when she walks away, waving my hand in front of my nose. She smells like a cross between an ashtray and whiskey distillery.

On the other side of the bar counter, I catch a glimpse of Bo. He leans over, bright red lips whisper in his ear, and long blonde hair trickles over his shoulder.

I squint. I squint harder. I can't believe my eyes.

Piper! She leans over the bar and points to the girl next to her.

The girl leans and stops before her boobs pop out of her tight top. Bo's eyes go straight to her cleavage as she speaks to him. To make matters worse, he throws back his head joining them in their stupid laughter and lets his eyes fall back to the valley between her boobs.

I throw back my overpriced drink and head home. Alone.

The thought of Bo and Piper makes my blood boil even more than the idea of moving back to Cincinnati. I take my time walking home, because I know I'm not going to be able to fall asleep.

Could my day get any worse? I know I'm going to have to do my three months in Cincinnati, and train for a marathon. There are plenty of beautiful parks, just not plenty of beautiful Bos. Or even the one beautiful Bo.

Lucy is tucked in her room when I tip-toe down the hall. I plop into bed and stare at the ceiling. I have a sneaky feeling that I'm going to be doing a lot of this in the next three months.

Aunt Grace.

"Hello, Aunt Grace." I roll over and stare at the clock. Four in the morning. At least it's a little later than usual.

"I swear you are psychic just like your mom," she chimes in.

"No, Aunt Grace. Caller ID."

She exhausts me.

Chapter Six.

The start of today is beginning to be just as bad as the end of yesterday. The only way to get rid of this headache is a good cup of coffee from Addicted to the Bean, which I grab on my way to work.

I need to clean out my office. It's early, no one will be there to ask any questions or make me feel worse than I already do.

I worked hard to get where I am, not only in life, but also in my professional career. Even though it's a promotion, I feel it's a big step in the wrong direction. Piper is the leader in this Simon Says game.

"Great," I mutter under my breath when I see the lights on in the store.

See what happens when I take a day off, the associates forget to check off the closing list.

"Hello?" A voice echoes from my office.

"Hello?" I yell back after I grab an empty hanger off the return cart. It might come in handy if I need a weapon.

"Hallie, is that you?" Piper's blonde head pokes around my office door.

"Piper?"

Damn. She always beats me to the punch. I can't even clean out my desk without her here.

"What are you doing here?" Her head cocks to the side.

"What are you doing here?" I question her back.

"The ball rolling. No sense in the delay. Everyone is ready for you to transfer." She drags her finger along the edge of my desk and sits in my chair. "I was going to call you later today to discuss your package."

Seeing her in my chair really pisses me off.

"What package?" There's a package already?

"I think you'll find it rather cushy." She holds a large manila envelope up in the air with my name on it.

Yep, as plain as day, in huge red letters. Hallie.

"That's your stuff too." Her nose crinkles and she points over to a small Pop-Tart-size box on the edge of the desk.

Piper's appearance catches my attention. Her hair is a mess, and she doesn't have any make-up on. Plus, I've never seen her in a t-shirt.

Oh, God!

"Hallie?" Piper stands up, and the entire shirt is exposed. She walks me over to my chair "Here, sit down. You look a little sick. Are you okay?"

I sit, trying not to focus. She says something about water and exits the room. The room spins out of control. I gasp for air that is not there. I hold on to the arms of the chair to steady myself.

"Sit back down." I look past the glass of ice water she is holding in front of me and focus on the shirt. Bo's t-shirt.

"I'm fine," I gasp and push her hand out of the way. I need to get out of there. I hold onto the edge of the desk to gain my footing. I snatch the envelope. "I need to go. I'll look over it, and call you later."

"Don't forget your little box of stuff." She points.

"Keep it," I mumble under my breath. I swear if I look at her, I'm going to die.

The sidewalk is crowded. I blend in, slip around the corner and lean up against the brick allowing the heat to radiate through my cold, limp body. I take a deep breath trying to get oxygen to my brain.

What just happened in there? Not only did I lose my job, but I've completely lost Bo. My life is disintegrating in front of me.

My instincts kick in and I run.

Forrest Gump pops into my head. I run with the envelope under my arm, trying to get the image of Piper wearing Bo's t-shirt out of my head.

His Wednesday t-shirt.

Every Wednesday for the past two years I've been running behind that shirt. Staring at that same stain in the middle of the Wednesday shirt every week. I'd know that shirt from anywhere.

How could she? I introduced them a long time ago. She was only a decoy as part of my posse. When he asked me to come to the bar, I wasn't going alone. She knows I have a thing for him. How could he? She's pretentious, mean-spirited and beautiful to boot.

What is he thinking?

Tears build up around my eye lids. I blink, allowing the dam to break, and let the them trickle down. Forget Bo, Piper and this job. It's all I can repeat over and over in my head as the pavement pounds under my feet.

The faster I run, the quicker I'll be home under my covers where I belong.

Chapter Seven.

"Get up." Lucy claps her hands, and my lights turn on. "Your cell's been going off all day."

Sunlight enters my cave of darkness as she pulls up the shades.

I clap my hands only for Lucy to clap back. "Close my shades," I demand, and pull the covers over my head.

"I can clap all day." She claps again. "Bo stopped by. He wanted to know why you didn't show up for the run."

I sit up. I can't believe that he had the nerve to stop by here. How long has their relationship been going on? He never talks about her-or anyone else, for that matter.

"You look terrible." Lucy's cockeyed face stares at me.

The most awful animalistic cry comes out of my mouth. It sounds like an exorcism is being performed.

"I hate them." I bang my fists into the mattress.

No matter how hard I punch, it doesn't make me feel better.

"I don't know what is going on. All I know is Bo seemed really concerned when I told him I thought you were ill." Lucy sits down on my bed. "Beck and I've got an extra steak."

The nerve! She knows steak is my weakness, especially on the grill. "Want to join us outside?" She's not below a good bride.

I need to get the t-shirt out of my head, and hanging out with Lucy and eating a big juicy steak might do the trick. I slip out of bed and readjust my ponytail. I look in the mirror. My eyes are red and puffy. I dab on eye moisturizer. The cool sensations palpitates my eyes back to the land of the living. A smidgen of concealer, and I'm back in business.

I schlep down the hall. Beck, Lucy's boyfriend, stands by the grill with a beer in his hand.

A twinge of jealousy, seeing Lucy snuggled up behind him, surges through my body. They are perfect for each other. His shaggy brown hair, tan skin gives the impression of his true easy-going spirit.

Even his brown cargo shorts look great with his black T, and flip flops.

"Glad you're alive." He holds his beer up.

"Do you know how many times I've watched that Wednesday shirt cling to every muscle, every sweat bead?" I curl up on the chaise, looking into the sunny, blue skies.

Our apartment has the coolest balcony. The dark chocolate fabric with huge light blue flowers goes perfect with teak table and chair set. The flat-screen TV that's hanging on the wall, is tuned to the Cubs game.

"Beck, you're a guy. What's going on with that?" I pat around my puffy eyes to restart the active ingredients in the moisturizer.

"I say he doesn't owe you an explanation." Beck brushes his loose curls out of his eyes.

"What you just said doesn't make me feel better." I reach up for the Manhattan cocktail Lucy made for me.