It had been one week since Troy had walked out. Four days since she'd bothered to listen to any of his messages. Seven days of being in a fucked-up depressed state. And she wasn't even sure how long it had been since she'd last contacted her shop.

He had lied when he said he'd call her the next day. He hadn't. By then she had been ready to talk to him. She was lonely, afraid and she missed him even though she was pissed as hell at him for being in Connecticut. But ...