Arranging Love by Nina Pierce Page A

unconditional love and that of her family were enough for him. Ayden and Damon had echoed that sentiment.
    Today would mark the end of his quest to find something more.
    * * * *
    Silence echoed through the house, and though no one else was home, an odd sense of presence hung in the air. Peter had left for work an hour earlier, and this was usually the time she and Mr. Jingles snuggled. The cat had been spoiled for sure, but without Mr. Jingles mewling for his breakfast, Meghan could hardly stand the eerie feeling of her home. Perhaps it had more to do with the weight of worry on her heart, but she was finding it hard to get herself motivated this Monday morning.
    On a heavy sigh, she shrugged into her coat, gathered her purse and gloves, and headed to the garage, her keys jingling in her hand. Peter had put the Volvo in the garage late on Saturday; at least she didn’t have to deal with defrosting the windshield.
    The chill of December slammed into her the moment she stepped from the breezeway into the garage and Meghan snuggled deeper into her parka. Sliding behind the steering wheel, she started the car and turned the heater up full blast, hoping to push away the cold enveloping her.
    The CD player blared out the guitar riff of a Guns and Roses song, and Meghan huddled in the front seat, listening to the opening line. Their haunting strains talking of childhood brought back memories of her father in a younger and healthier body. The hot fire of sadness burned in her throat, and she gave into the tears for the first time since her father had collapsed. For a few minutes she let herself wallow in frustration and self pity for the illness and the loss of the man she’d come to think of as indestructible.
    As the final screaming questions pounded out of the speakers, Meghan blotted her face with a tissue from her purse and absently pushed the remote for the garage door. Nothing. She pressed it again, pulling it from the visor and banging on the button. Still nothing. She flung it to the floor and stomped out of the car, slamming the car door in frustration.
    Tipping up on her toes, Meghan reached for the power box above her car. Peter had told her to jiggle it and try again. It took several attempts before she maneuvered herself enough to rattle the damn metal box.
    “Work, you stupid thing,” she yelled. Meghan pulled on the door handle, intent on getting in the car, but the handle slipped from her grip. Another try confirmed she had locked herself out of the Volvo. “Like I needed another thing to make this sucky day suckier.” She kicked the tire, which did nothing to quell the anger coiled in her belly, but did manage to bruise her toe.
    Limping to the kitchen door, intending to grab the spare keys on the hook in the breezeway, she grabbed for the knob and found it locked as well.
    “What the fuck?” She pounded on the door and yelled in frustration. Then grabbed the handle and began shaking it with no results. She sat down heavily on the stoop. Well, at least it wasn’t cold and dark like the floral cooler. Amend that. Cold, but not dark.
    How the hell had she gotten into this mess? Checking her watch, she realized Peter would be at the hospital with her father. Calling him and asking him to get her out of this mess would mean explaining how she’d locked herself out of the car and in the garage. Better to call Dee. Meghan fished in her pockets for her cell, but found nothing. Fear clawed her throat, making her cough—her phone was in her purse locked in the car.
    She walked around the Volvo checking each door and discovered them all locked. Nothing to worry about—she was safe. She coughed again, choking on dust. Then it hit her.
    The Volvo was still running.

Chapter 9
    Peter’s loafers clicked along the hospital corridor carrying him to the Acute Care Unit. The ACU was a step up from ICU with no visitation restrictions. Hopefully, someone would figure out what was wrong with the man he’d come to love like