Author: Kristan Higgins

I smiled back, carefully. “I’m fine. How are you?” The rest of the gang swarmed around.

“Cheerio, mate,” Fleur added.

“We sure miss you,” Leila said. “The place is just—”

“—not the same. Not as fun,” Pete finished.

“And no one else bakes,” Karen muttered. “We really do miss you.”

“So do the clients,” Damien said pointedly. “We’ve lost three since you left.”

“Right, but no worries,” Fleur said. “They were mostly done anyway.” I wondered if she’d been promoted to creative director with my departure. Muriel had that job, more likely. And speaking of the ice princess…

“Where’s Muriel?” I asked.

Silence fell. Awkward silence. Pete and Leila exchanged looks, Fleur raised an eyebrow. Bowie flopped on the ground and offered himself to the first taker.

“Callie, walk with me,” Mark said, taking my arm. “We should talk.” Bowie leaped to his feet—I had him on a leash, so he had no choice—and trotted at my side as Mark steered me past the Lions Club grill.

“Hi, Callie!” Jody Bingham called, standing in line for a burger.

“Hi, Jody!” I called back. “How you doing?”

“Pretty good, thanks,” she answered. We were scheduled to have lunch next week. Noah’s girls.

“Guess what, Callie? I can do a cartwheel!” Hayley McIntyre demonstrated her skill, and I tugged my arm free from Mark’s grip to applaud.

“That was wonderful, honey,” I told her.

“I know it!” she affirmed, then ran off to her family.

“Can we continue?” Mark asked, his voice on the impatient side.

“What’s the deal, Mark?” I asked. “And why do we need to go way over here?”

“I’d like to talk privately.”

We came upon the back lawn of the library, which was closed today. The grass was still green, and a few leaves still clung to the branches of the crabapple trees that enclosed the yard. I used to come here to read after school when I was a kid, wishing I were Anne of Green Gables or Jane Eyre. A stone bench in memory of some long-ago patron overlooked the river, which shushed and gurgled past.

“Have a seat,” Mark said. I obeyed, and Bowie flopped at my feet, curling into a tight ball. The bench was hard and cool, despite the sunshine, and I fidgeted, not sure I wanted to be here.

Mark didn’t sit with me. He stood, hands on his hips, exhaled sharply and looked at the sky.

“Speak, Mark,” I said irritably. “You dragged me here for a reason, after all.”

He looked down at me. “Right. Okay, first of all, Muriel’s gone. So you have to come back to work.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“She and I are done. It wasn’t working out.”

“Wow.” I paused. “She came to Noah’s funeral.”

“Yeah, well, she left just after that.” Mark’s mouth was a straight line, and his shoulders were tight. “The BTR account went with her.”

“I’m not sure what to say, Mark.”

“Say you’ll come back to work. You wanted me to choose, so I chose. I chose you.”

“I didn’t…I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Mark ran a hand through his dark hair, then sat heavily next to me. His shoulders slumped, and he turned to face me. “Callie, you said some things the night Noah died. And I listened, okay?”

“Uh…apparently not, since I quit that night. I won’t be coming back, Mark.”

But then Mark took my hands in his and just stared at them. “Callie, if I could turn back time—”

“As Cher would say,” I couldn’t help interjecting, reclaiming my hands and folding them primly on my lap.

He grinned, and suddenly he seemed more…normal. “Okay, that was funny.” I gave a half nod, as he was right. “But listen, Callie.” His voice lowered, and he gave me the James Dean look. “I screwed up. I didn’t see what I had in you, and I…” He shook his head. “I want you back. At the company, and you know, if you want to give a relationship another shot, that would be…that would be nice. Great, in fact,” he amended hastily. “So. Let’s get you back in the office and see where things go on the, uh, personal front.”

Bowie, an emotional whore if ever there was one, instantly forgave Mark and sprang to his feet, licking Mark’s hand. Me… I’d become a little more demanding. “That was the lamest offer I’ve had in my entire life, Mark,” I said.

“I’ll give you a raise,” he said earnestly.

“Gah! Come on!”

“Callie, please. I’m making a mess of this, I see that, God knows, but…well, Callie, you’re great. And I could…I could definitely see us working out. Really. You said you’ve loved me for years. Give me another shot. Let’s go back to the way things were in Santa Fe.”

“You told me that was a mistake, Mark.”

“Well, I was wrong. You’re incredible, Callie, and I was so stupid not to see it before.”

Granted, I’d waited a long time to hear those words. Would’ve sold a kidney—maybe two—to have heard them at one point. Now, though…they didn’t have the same impact. They were, in fact, an overcooked noodle in the pasta salad of love.

“Listen, Mark, that’s really…uh…flattering to hear and all, but I have to ask. How much of this has to do with the three clients who left?”

“Okay, you bring up a good point,” he said quickly. “Work and…us…we’re intertwined. I think the thing I’m proudest of in my whole life is Green Mountain, and you’re a huge part of it, Callie. The way you are in life, the way you are at work, with clients, with the whole gang, it’s all the same, isn’t it?”

“I…don’t know, but I still quit,” I said, glancing at my watch. Ian was due to meet me pretty soon.

“We make a great team, we really do,” Mark persisted. “At work and…otherwise. That’s undeniable.”

“That was undeniable, Mark,” I said. “It’s not true anymore.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” he blurted. The wind rustled in the branches, and a shower of small brown and yellow leaves fluttered down like cautionary notes. “I admit that I was an idiot, Callie, but the thing is, what we had…it scared me. It was so intense—”

“Seriously?” I asked, raising a dubious eyebrow. “Because you didn’t seem scared or intense at all back then.”

“No. I was.” He gripped my hands again. “Callie, I just panicked. That’s why I hooked up with Muriel. She was so different from you—”

“Mark, stop,” I said firmly, tugging my hands free once more. “I don’t care. I’ve moved on, okay? I’m sorry.”

Mark stiffened. “I know. The vet.”

“Ian. His name is Ian.”

“Right.” Rather than discourage him, the mention of the other man seemed to strengthen Mark’s resolve. He slid to one knee in front of me.

“Oh, get up. Up you go! Right now,” I said, looking around a bit desperately. Bowie smiled and yipped. “I’m not going to marry you, for God’s sake.”

“I’m not asking,” Mark said, grinning. “I just want to see your face.”

I grimaced. “This is very uncomfortable, Mark.”

“I know. For me, too.” He leaned forward, bracing his arms on either side of me. “I just want you to think about this, Callie,” he said quietly. His face was way too close to mine, and I pulled back. “I want you to remember our time together. How it was between us. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it recently, and it was…We were two halves of a whole. We completed each other.” I snorted, but he kept going. “Great at work, great in bed—” here he cocked an eyebrow and gave that famous crooked grin “—great just talking. Do you remember, how it was when we were together?”

Blerk! Had he always been so smarmy? “We know each other, Callie,” he continued. “We’ve known each other so long. I was the first boy you kissed, remember? Give us another chance. Please, Callie. I think we’re worth it.”

I stared back at him, almost fascinated. I did remember, of course. Oh, yeah. I remembered being positive that Mark Rousseau wouldn’t have kissed me a second time in Gwen Hardy’s closet without it really meaning something. Remembered waiting for him to break up with Julie Revere, carting Freddie all over town as my prop. Remembered waiting for him to see me as more than a great coworker. Remembered those five sickening weeks when he inched a little further away each day. Remembered my desperation and frantic rationalizations as I tried harder and harder to remind him of why he had to love me.

I remembered falling apart in the DMV.

Helpless in love, that’s what I’d been.

I wasn’t helpless anymore.

Besides, he’s an asshole, Betty Boop said calmly from within my conscience, and I couldn’t have agreed more.

But Mark mistook my silence for happy nostalgia, and he leaned forward and kissed me. I didn’t move. Not because I was shocked, or thrilled, or disgusted… I sat there almost scientifically, wondering if that old melting magic would wash every smart thought away. No magic came. The smart thoughts…they stayed.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I said as I pulled back.

“Oh, bollocks,” came Fleur’s voice. “Didn’t mean to intrude. Ian was looking for you, Callie. Bit awkward, yeah, Ian?”

I lurched to my feet, practically knocking Mark over. “Ian! There you are!” My dog raced over to Ian, keening with joy. Ian didn’t move.

They were standing in the side yard of the library…obviously, they’d come from the street. Fleur was smirking. Ian looked…oh, God. He saw me kissing another man, and he thought I was cheating. Just like his ex-wife.

He looked like the deer, and this time—for the first time ever—I was the truck.

I unfroze and ran over to them. Ian looked away abruptly, toward the river. “Ian, I know this looks bad,” I began, twisting my ring. “But I can explain.”

“Seems like your little scheme worked brilliantly, Callie,” Fleur said easily. She fished a cigarette out of her purse and fumbled for her lighter.

“Ian,” I said again. With difficulty, he looked back at me. “This is not what it seems,” I whispered.

“What little scheme?” Ian asked, shifting his eyes to Fleur.

“Oh, sorry. Thought you were in on it.” She lit the death stick and took a deep drag, then exhaled, smiling at me through the smoke. “Date another man, make Mark jealous.”

Her words were a sucker punch. “That was never my plan, Fleur.” My voice cracked.

She tilted her head “No? Funny. Could’ve sworn we discussed it. At length.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “And now it’s worked. Well done, you.”

“Ian,” I said in a low voice. “I’ll explain this. It’s just…it’s not what she’s saying.”

His eyes sliced back to me. Otherwise, he didn’t move. Shit.

Fleur turned to Mark, who was approaching us, tucking in his shirt. As if I’d pulled it out in a moment of ruttishness or something, making me look guiltier by the second. “Mark, what gives?” she asked. “Have you finally come to your senses and seen the little diamond Callie is? Now that Muriel’s left you?”

That caught me off guard. “She left you, huh?” I said. “Funny, you made it seem like the other way around.” Should’ve known, not that it made any difference. “Ian, if you could—”