that night found me sipping a coffee in a nearby coffee shop and leafing casually through an AP magazine, not really thinking of anything. I missed Jade. My pending marriage made me think of that more and more. It was strange, the way I’d found a replacement who was so like the original in some ways. Some ways. No one else was exactly like Jade Puget.
I sighed and stood up, leaving some coins on the counter as a tip for the server before leaving. Right outside the diner, I pulled out my cell phone to check the time. on a Sunday night in downtown
When the person stopped a few feet away from me, however, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and looked up at them. I couldn’t see anything, since they were standing immediately in front of a lit up sign, leaving them silhouetted against the Christmas lights.
“. . . Regan?” a voice asked me. A voice I knew. A voice I’d been vainly dreaming of for the past five years. A voice I’d become afraid that I’d dreamed up. My eyes widened and I dropped my purse onto the wet cement sidewalk.
“. . . Jade?” I asked, incredulous.