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happen?”
                  “Emily ordered the champagne.”
                  “So, it’s Emily’s fault? It was her party, how can you suggest that she should have worried about stupid details like that? You were supposed to be in charge of things.”
                  “Emily insisted—”
                  “When are you going to learn, Jo? I expect so much from you and you constantly leave me disappointed.”
                  “I’m sorry, Mother,” Jo sighed.
                  For the next fifteen minutes, Jo listened to her mother complain about the party. Not only had they run out of champagne, but apparently the centerpieces Jo worked on with Emily had the wrong color roses in them even though Emily had chosen them herself. The posters with Emily and Ryan’s pictures on them also had been constructed of paper that was too thin, the streamers were too plentiful, and the food was too cold, or hot depending on the treat, and the cake was too dry.
                  And, of course, it was all Jo’s fault.
                  “Are you really so petty that you would go out of your way to sabotage your sister’s happiness, Jo?”
                  Jo wanted to scream as she listened to those words. Hadn’t she spent weeks planning the party with Emily? Hadn’t she made the centerpieces, ordered the posters, and decorated the space herself? Hadn’t she taken time out of her own schedule to do everything Emily asked of her? And paid half of everything in her mother’s name when she insisted that Emily and Ryan shouldn’t have to pay themselves? She had done it all without complaining, had done it for Emily. How could her mother accuse her of such a thing?
                  But she was.
                  Jo heard herself apologize despite everything.
                  “There will be no more problems in the future. I want this wedding to go perfectly. Do you understand?”
                  “Of course, Mother. I’ll do whatever I can.”
                  “Good. Then you’ll meet Emily and me for dinner next Thursday?”
                  “Yes, Mother.”
                  “Oh, and about the rent—”
                  “I’ll go to the bank on Monday.”
                  Finally, her mother hung up. Jo dropped the phone on the couch cushion beside her, threw back her head, and screamed at the top of her lungs.
                  She felt marginally better.
     
     

Chapter 8
     
                  Jo slipped out of her bulky shoes and pulled her feet up under her as she settled in her desk chair to work. Meetings all morning had kept her out of the office, but now she had nothing scheduled for the rest of the afternoon. Just her, the computer, and her list of facts and numbers. Sanity.
                  Jo hadn’t seen Mark since their impromptu meeting on Friday night. She’d thought about him frequently. On Monday, she heard that he had called in sick. On Tuesday, they said he spent most of the day locked in Kathleen’s office.
    Jo didn’t usually listen to the office gossip, but she found herself perking up whenever Mark’s name was mentioned. Everyone seemed to be talking about him, and it was no wonder. He was single, good-looking, and charming. At the same time, he seemed to avoid talking about himself, making him an enigma that most of the women in the company wanted to crack.
                  Jo would be surprised if she ever saw him again.
                  Men like him did not seek out women like her. And after what happened Friday night, she knew she had gone too far. He would not want to hang out with her again.
                  It was okay. Jo was used to rejection.
                  Jo focused on the computer and was in the