Moira and I had waited for Peter to meet up with us last night. After an hour, Moira said she needed to leave since she had an early morning shift at the hospital. We had joked about Peter getting caught up escorting Isabel home. But I wasn’t laughing on the inside. My emotions swayed between worry and jealous anger. Was he so taken with Isabelle that he would leave us hanging, or had something happened? Had the person behind the voice taken action and I missed it? One second I was reaching for my phone to call him and the next I was tapping my foot in frustration, wanting to kick at something.
I had waited with Shaylee on the balcony for another couple of hours, like some pitiful homage to Juliet, before I finally admitted to myself that he wouldn’t show up. As I climbed into bed, I imag
