I swore up and down that I was surprised, but I wasn’t. If there were ever a time I was certain I was psychic, it was times like this. I felt bad, especially knowing all the trouble Diane went through, but I’d known for two weeks that something was up.

After I arrived and everyone jumped out and shouted “Surprise!” at me, I scanned the room for Preston. My disappointment was probably obvious to everyone, but I tried hard to keep smiling through the gifts and the cake. The party was a special gesture, and I was disappointed in myself for not being more enthusiastic.

Diane would’ve invited him, although she wouldn’t have wanted to. I wasn’t going to ask, though, because it would’ve hurt too much to hear her tell me he couldn’t make it.

He’d finally finished the project in South Carolina and was home now—at least until his father found another project for him to manage. I had a feeling things were back on with Suzanne again, but I refused to bring it up. He had taken me to dinner last night to some French restaurant just over the state line in Pennsylvania. I had to let him order for me, since I only had a year of high school French, and none of that included what one might order in a fancy restaurant. At least he didn’t try to get me to eat octopus or snails this time.

I’d assumed dinner was my gift, but when we got back to my apartment, he gave me a heart-shaped diamond pendant. He said he’d wanted to give it to me when I was naked so it would be the only thing I was wearing.

I’m sure it was expensive, but I felt cheap when he fastened it around my neck and it fell between my bare breasts. Despite no evidence even suggesting it, I couldn’t help feeling like the other woman. Call it intuition or my hit-or-miss sixth sense, something nagged at me.

Worried I was about to be swallowed up by some sort of melancholy, I slipped outside the first chance I got. It had rained earlier, but now the moon was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds as they passed. The sky was an inky black, and a handful of stars winked down at me. I fingered my necklace, raised my face, and closed my eyes, thinking about my dad. A smattering of raindrops from the tree above me kissed my face.

“Don’t cry, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’ll be okay.”

The grass rustled nearby. I opened my eyes to see Chase slipping into the shadows.

“Too late,” I called. “I saw you.”

He turned back. “Sorry. I saw you sitting here alone, and I thought I’d come out and see if you were okay.” He hesitated. “I’ll leave you to . . . whatever it was you were doing.”

I shook my head and patted the spot on the retaining wall next to me.

“It’s okay. I was just talking to my dad.”

He sat beside me and stretched his long legs out next to mine. “How long?”

A smiled tugged at the corner of my mouth. Finally. Someone who didn’t make me feel even a little crazy for talking to the stars.

“Almost eight years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I miss him every day, but I have good memories. He was a great dad.”

He handed me a bottle of Heineken. “I don’t know what you drink, so I just brought you one of these.”

“Tequila, but this is fine.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

I laughed since he’d given me a bottle of tequila as a birthday present.

“Oh, yeah.” A slow smile crept over his face after I reminded him. “I forgot.”

“You liar.” I playfully bumped him with my shoulder. “Who bought it? Diane?” Of course she had—and she was probably watching us from somewhere in the house. “Did she send you out here after me?”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. I came on my own.”

“I think you’re still lying.”

“I swear! Don’t you think if she’d sent me out, she’d at least have made sure I brought the right drink?”

He had a point. He also had a great smile. He seemed pretty serious for the most part, but when he smiled, his eyes sparkled as if he were lit from the inside.

“So what’s your story?” I asked. “I’m sure you’ve already heard all my ugly secrets and way more than I’m comfortable with anyone knowing.”

He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I’m twenty-seven. I grew up outside of Allentown. I moved here a couple months ago to work with my brother. Like I said, not much to tell.”

“Oh, there’s more,” I assured him, wondering what had happened with the rabbit, and if she’d moved here with him. “You’re just not talking.” I stood up and faced him. “Can I have your hand?”

He looked confused but held out his left hand.

I shook my head. “No, the right one.”

He transferred his beer to the other hand, wiped it on his jeans, and held out his right hand. In spite of the cold, wet bottle, his hand was still warm. I put my hand in his as if we were going to shake hands and felt it again—a low-voltage vibration. I’d felt it the first time, when he’d come into the luncheonette, and at the wedding when he’d touched my arms, and again when we shook hands at Blondie’s last week.

I still had no idea what I was feeling. Again, I remembered my dad’s fateful declaration about his boss all those years ago, and how he’d known he was going to die just by shaking his hand.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

He smiled. “You mean right now, while you’re holding my hand? Yeah, actually, I feel pretty good.”

I shook my head. “I mean health wise. Are you healthy?”

“Why? What did you have in mind?”

It seemed he wasn’t going to take me seriously.

“Nothing.”

I reached for the other hand. He finished his beer, set the bottle on the ground in front of him, and held it out to me. I held both of them, closed my eyes and concentrated.

“Has anyone ever told you they felt some type of electricity when they touched you?” I asked after a while, opening my eyes.

“Actually, yes.” He laughed when I made a face.

“I’m a little psychic,” I said. “My dad was extremely gifted, and I heard him say once that he shook someone’s hand and knew the guy was going to die soon.”

“Jesus.” He pulled his hands away as if he were the one feeling the shock. “That’s one hell of a party trick you got going there.”

I shook my head. “I’m not saying I feel that. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I’m feeling something. A vibration. It’s faint, but it’s definitely there.” I sized him up. He looked healthy. “Still . . . I’d feel better if you got a checkup.”

“Oh, you would, would you?”

“I’m not crazy.” I sounded exactly like someone who was crazy. “It’s a deep gut feeling. I just know things. I also usually know when someone is lying to me.” Given that I was involved with someone who lied, or at least bent the truth to suit him, I probably should revisit my earlier declaration about not being crazy. “Sometimes I just know what’s going to happen before it happens—sometimes just seconds before, so it’s not like it does much good, but still. Don’t tell Diane, but I knew about this party, although I wish I could’ve been surprised.”

I cocked my head. “I know! I’ll prove I’m psychic. I can guess your middle name.”

He ducked his head and chuckled. “I doubt it.”

“Seriously. What’s your last name again?”

“Holgate.”

“Okay, Chase Holgate. What’s your middle initial?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Too easy. You have to figure it out on your own.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Challenge accepted.”

“Oh, and one other thing.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “If you don’t guess my middle name, I get to give you a birthday kiss.”

“I’m very good,” I warned.

“So am I.”

I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling while the rest of me got all warm and tingly, and he wasn’t even touching me this time. Given my relationship with Preston, it came as a bit of a surprise. Chase was extremely attractive—and probably could incinerate a pair of panties if he wanted—but he was a bit rough around the edges, especially compared with Preston.

“Deal,” I said. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d missed a name. “Will you tell me if I guess the right initial first?”

He shook his head.

“C’mon!”

“Nope. Stakes are too high.”

I stared at him for a little while, but nothing was coming to me. Not even a letter.

“Give me your hands again.”

That had never worked before, but I was really struggling. He smiled and extended his hands. I held onto him for a while, but still I got nothing, although the vibration grew stronger. I tilted my head up to the night sky and tried to focus.

“Hey! No cheating. Your dad can’t help.”

I’d been sad thinking of another birthday without my father, but that made me laugh. After a few more moments, I gave up.

“You win.” I let go of his hands and offered up my cheek.

“Oh no.” He gave a deep laugh as he stood, towering over me. “I get to kiss you, and not on the cheek.”

“You know I’m seeing someone,” I reminded him, although I was sure he must already know. I wasn’t about to lead him on.

“I know,” he assured me, “for now.”

My traitorous body was buzzing. “You have a lot of faith in yourself, don’t you?”

“I just know my strengths and my weaknesses.”

He put his hand against the small of my back and pulled me closer. Then with his right hand resting on the back of my head and tangled in my hair, he tilted my face toward him. His kiss was gentle at first, but he slowly applied more pressure, and I could feel myself yielding. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, hesitated, and then kissed me again. And I let him. I didn’t owe him more than one kiss, but I let him kiss me—and to my surprise, I kissed him back.

When I finally pulled away, he didn’t try to stop me.

“I . . . um . . .” I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to say.

“Um . . .” he replied teasingly.

“Okay,” I said finally. “You’re a very good kisser.”

He grinned. “Thank you. You should keep that in mind.”

He leaned forward, and I thought he was going to kiss me again. Instead, he whispered in my ear. “I don’t have a middle name.”

I gasped. “That’s not fair! You lied to me.”

“No, I didn’t. And you gave up. You didn’t figure out there was no name.”

“That sounds like a technicality.”

“A win’s a win.” He grinned. “Want to kiss me again?”

It surprised me how much I wanted to say yes, but I didn’t. I just laughed. “No, you cheater.”

His smile faded as his features darkened. “No, not a cheater. I’m what they call a good guy. We’re the ones who finish last.”

There was sadness in his voice. It was the part of the story he wasn’t telling. But before I could surmise anything more, he headed toward the street.

“I have work in the morning, so please make my apologies,” he called, walking backward. “Happy birthday, Rain. I hope this next year is your best one yet.”

A few minutes later, the silent night was filled with the throaty roar of his bike as he disappeared into the night.

And as strange as it was, it felt as if he’d taken a little part of me with him.