I stare at the dashboard so I can’t see her face. She looks the same as she did five years ago, and back then that face had the power to knock the breath out of me. The curve of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips, the softness of her skin. She was the drug that numbed the pain, but only temporarily. I just have to keep reminding myself of that so I don’t do anything stupid, like telling her the truth.

We may only ever have one great, passionate love. If I had one, it would definitely be Rory. But sometimes it’s best to leave that kind of love in the past. Still, there’s so much unfinished business between us. As I watch her from the corner of my eye, I wonder if this chance encounter is the opportunity for absolution I’ve been hoping for the past five years.

“Hold on,” she says as she presses the cell phone to her ear. “Hello? Yes, is Dr. Heinlein in the office today?… My dog is unconscious and I need to bring him in. It’s an emergency… No, not that I know of… Blood type? Um… DEA 6, I think… Yes… Thank you so much. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” She pulls the phone away from her ear and checks something on the screen. “We have to go to my apartment first. I’m in Portland Towers.”

“On 21^st?”

She nods and I sense a bit of tension, like she’s embarrassed to live in a building mostly inhabited by college students. She probably imagines I live in a nice house with my wife and kids and maybe even a few pets. She doesn’t know that Tessa and I live in a generic two-bedroom apartment downtown and we have no children.

We make it to her building in seven minutes and I find myself getting nervous. How far do I take this act of kindness? Do I go inside? Do I help take her dog to the vet? The conversation she had with her mom a few minutes ago implied she has a car of her own, but she opted to ride her bike to work today. Technically, she no longer needs my help, but I have no idea how big her dog is. He could be a teacup poodle or a huge mastiff, in which case she definitely needs my help getting the dog into the car.

I park in a fifteen-minute loading zone right in front of the thirteen-story apartment building and kill the engine. I throw open my car door to follow her inside, but she stops me before she gets out of the car.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice still taut with tension. “I have a car. I’m fine. You need to go back to your meeting.”

“I can help you carry the dog down, then I’ll take off.”

She hesitates for a moment, then she nods. “Okay. Thanks.”

Following her into the elevator, I hold my breath as she presses the button for the eighth floor. Just walking behind her, I’ve gotten small whiffs of her hair. But I know the close quarters in the elevator will only amplify that. And I don’t want her to know how crazy that scent is making me.

We stand side by side in total silence as the elevator ascends. The fingers on my right hand tingle, as if my skin can sense she’s near. Then I realize it’s probably because I’m holding my breath. Slowly, I breathe in, catching a strong whiff of vanilla that sends my heart racing. I clench my fist to keep from reaching out to touch her.

She glances down at my hand as she sees the slight movement from the corner of her eye. I relax my hand again so she doesn’t think being this close to her is making me tense, but I don’t believe for a second I can fool her.

She steps forward, closer to the elevator doors, putting more distance between us. A soft buzzing noise breaks through the silence just as the elevator doors slide open. She holds the phone to her ear as we exit onto the eighth floor.

“What’s wrong?” she says, her eyebrows furrowed with worry, then her lips curl into an absolutely beautiful smile. “Oh, thank God… Yes, we just got here. I’ll be right in.” Holding the phone to her chest, she lets out a sigh of relief. “He’s awake.”

“That’s great news.”

She stops in front of apartment 811 and looks up at me. “I guess you can go.”

“You’re not still taking him to the vet?”

“Well, it’s not an emergency anymore. I’ll just have my mom take him in my car. She can walk him down now that he’s awake.”

My heart clenches as I realize I’m no longer needed. “Of course. So, you’re okay?”

What a stupid loaded question.

She shrugs as she reaches for the doorknob. “As good as I can be,” she replies, then suddenly she wraps her arms around my waist. “Thanks for the ride.”

The smell of her hair hits me like a knife in the chest and I hold my breath to keep myself from completely inhaling her. I pat her on the back and she chuckles as she lets me go.

“Good luck with your pitch,” she says, never looking back as she disappears into the apartment.

Jesus fucking Christ. I’m in deep shit here. I can’t go back to the store for that meeting. There’s no way I’ll be able to work with Rory on a regular basis. If we open that wine bar, I’ll have to check in at least once a week, probably more like two to three times a week.

I won’t survive seeing her that often. I’ve barely survived the past five years.

But I can’t throw away a multimillion-dollar joint venture contract. There’s too much competition in the craft beer market these days. I need to take whatever bones are thrown my way.

I just wish I knew if Rory were truly okay. I can put myself through the agony of seeing her on a regular basis if I know it won’t affect her. The last thing I want to do is make her work situation unbearable. She doesn’t deserve that after what I did to her.

I managed to avoid bumping into Rory on the way out of the meeting at Zuckers by leaving the shop while she was busy with a customer. The pitch meeting with Jamie went well. When she heard why I stepped out earlier, she was quite impressed with my kindness toward the staff. I considered telling her that Rory is far from just a staff member to me, but I opted against it. If Rory wants her boss to know about our past, she should be the one to tell her.

As I drive away from Zucker’s market, I think of going back to the brewery to see how Dean, our production manager, is coming along with the new winter lager. We’ve been brewing it in small batches in the pilot brewing system since January, and it won a gold medal at the Portland International Beer Festival last week. But today we’re brewing the first large-scale production batch. Scaling up can be a bit tricky, but I’m confident Dean can handle everything on his own.

This batch of winter lager won’t be ready for another twenty-three days. And if this deal with Zucker’s goes through, it will be on tap at the new wine bar just in time for the holidays. I can relax tonight knowing I’ve done all I can today. Right now, I need to get home and see Tessa. I know that once I see her face, I’ll know what I have to do.

I park the truck in the underground lot, then I head for the elevator. I pass the dog grooming station on the way, which Tessa always complains about. She thinks it’s nice that the complex was built with the needs of pet owners in mind, but she thinks the wet-dog smell seeps into the underground parking structure and “infringes” on the other residents. Yet, as I breathe in the barnyard scent of freshly washed canine, all I can think of is what it would be like to help Rory give her dog a bath in there, suds flying everywhere, laughter echoing off the concrete walls.

I shake my head, trying to clear these dangerous thoughts as I enter the elevator. The doors are almost closed when someone sticks their arm through the gap. The doors slide open again and in walks Kendra Gris, our neighbor from across the hall and Tessa’s new best friend. Kendra’s a stay-at-home mom with an eight-month-old baby boy, Trucker. I’m not one to speak ill of a child, but I will say that Kendra and her husband, Aaron, really screwed their kid with a name like Trucker Gris.

“Hey, Kendra,” I mutter, trying not to sound too annoyed.

She flashes me a tight-lipped smile as she pushes the stroller into the elevator then glances at the panel to make sure I’ve pressed the button for the third floor. She sighs as she flips her dark hair over her shoulder.

“Hey, Hugh.”

I think back to the moment in Jamie’s office earlier when Rory asked if she should call me Hugh or Houston. After five years, she still remembered that I prefer Houston, but this woman who sees me almost every day still insists on calling me Hugh.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Kendra remarks as the elevator doors open. “Bad day at the brewery?”

I exit right behind her as she pushes the stroller down the hall. “It’s been a long day.”

“It’s two o’clock,” she sneers when she reaches her door. “Maybe you just need a few cold ones.”

She pushes open the door with her back and pulls the stroller in backward, all the while flashing me a condescending smile. Kendra has told Tessa on more than one occasion that I drink too much. I don’t.

I drink two, maybe three, beers a night to unwind after work. Sometimes when we’re testing a new recipe, I’ll drink too much, but I never get so drunk I black out or lose time. Beer is my life. I’m supposed to be a connoisseur. It’s my job.

I enter the apartment and Tessa is sitting at the kitchen table with her computer. Her eyes widen when she looks up and sees me in the doorway. She deftly closes the laptop as she rises from the chair.

“Hey, I didn’t expect you back so soon. Is something wrong?”

I shake my head as I drop my keys into the glass bowl on top of the table constructed out of salvaged Brazilian pine. “Everything’s fine. I think the pitch went well. I’m… optimistic.”

“That’s great!” she replies, pulling her straight blonde hair into a ponytail at her nape as she walks toward me. “Why don’t you look happy?”

“I am happy.” I force a smile as I head for the refrigerator to grab a beer.

“Houston, it’s two o’clock.”

I glance at the beer in my hand then back at her. “Does it matter what time of day it is?”

“I’m not talking about the beer. I was just wondering why you’re home so early on a Wednesday.”

I can’t tell her that I ran into my ex-girlfriend today and how the wall I’d built around my memories of Rory was knocked down in an instant. I can’t tell her that I’m home early today because I didn’t trust myself to be anywhere but here right now. I can’t tell her that I hoped the sight of her would remind me of all the reasons I can’t be with Rory.

Being married means having someone, just one person, who knows everything about you. Someone you can share everything with, even the ugly bits of your soul you’d rather sweep under the carpet and completely forget about. But Tessa doesn’t know anything about Rory. That time of my life is a discussion I hoped I would never need to have with her.

“I told you. The meeting went well, so I just decided to take the rest of the day off. I wanted to see you.”

I set the cold beer on the marble countertop, then I grab her waist and pull her body flush against mine. Gazing into her blue eyes for a moment, I will myself not to compare her to Rory, but it’s difficult. Her sharp hip bones are pressed against me and I can’t help but remember how much I loved the softness of Rory’s body.

Leaning forward, I take her earlobe into my mouth. Her breathing quickens as I trace the tip of my tongue inside the shell of her ear. Her hair smells like the lavender-mint shampoo we share and I inhale deeply to rid myself of the memory of Rory’s hair, the way it smelled like vanilla frosting.

“Houston,” she breathes, her fingers curling tightly around my biceps. “I… I have an appointment.”

She pushes me back and her face is flushed as she opens a drawer and takes out a bottle opener. “I didn’t know you were coming home early. I booked a hair appointment for this afternoon.”

She pops the top off the bottle of beer I set down on the counter a few seconds ago, then she hands it to me.

I wish I could say that this is the first time Tessa has rejected my sexual advances, but that would be a lie. Any married couple will tell you that these kinds of things just don’t always line up. Sometimes she has an appointment. Sometimes I have to get to work for an important meeting. Sometimes one of us is just not in the mood. But it’s not the response I was hoping for. I wanted to lose myself in her today. Maybe even go for an all-nighter.

“You have a good time, baby.”

She laughs nervously. “A good time at the hair salon?”

Before she can say anything else, I kiss her. Hard. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I thrust my tongue inside her mouth. She whimpers as she clutches the front of my T-shirt. We move in unison and I’m reminded of the first time I met Tessa, at a beer festival three years ago.

She was wearing a floral crown on her head and totally blasted on free beer when she showed up at our booth. I probably could have taken her home with me and fucked her once then never called her again. It was what I had done for two years and it had worked just fine. But something she said changed my mind about using her.

She sampled our pale ale, then she looked me in the eye and said, You look like my brother… He’s dead.

She cackled loudly at this proclamation and spilled the rest of the beer sample on her chest. Then she looked up at me again and her eyes swelled with tears. She apologized as her friend pulled her away from our booth, but I knew then that I wanted to know her.

I pull away, placing a soft kiss on her cheekbone before I whisper in her ear. “Hurry home. I don’t think this beer is gonna quench my thirst tonight.”

She nods as she reaches for her purse in a daze. “I’ll be back soon.”

As the door closes behind her, my eyes are drawn to the laptop on the table. Tessa never brings the laptop out here while I’m home. She says she doesn’t like having electronic devices between us. So one of our unofficial wedding vows is to leave all electronic devices, other than cell phones, in the office. That way when we’re home together we give each other our undivided attention.

I guess it’s not a big deal if she brings the laptop out here while I’m at work. I take a seat on the sofa, but my gaze is still drawn to the table. Was it my imagination or was she nervous when I walked in at two o’clock?

No, that’s just my own guilty conscience making me paranoid.

I stare at the laptop and for a brief moment consider opening it up to see what she was doing, but that would be a gross invasion of her privacy. Tessa is allowed to have her own personal space where I don’t intrude.

And so am I.