December 15. I stared at the date as it flashed up on my computer at work, hardly able to believe it. It had been over two months since I’d returned home from the cabin in the mountains—over two months since I’d had Ethan’s arms wrapped around me.

We’d had hardly any contact since, just the occasional text message, the occasional “Hope you guys are well.” Ethan wasn’t exactly great at responding, usually offering a “You too” after a few days. I didn’t blame him. He didn’t live in the modern world of the internet and social media.

Sometimes, I hated myself for searching for any online presence of him, wondering if he’d revealed himself in any small way. Posted on a message board, or asked questions about building a cabin in the mountains. But of course, as Ethan was a professional, he hadn’t revealed anything. He was hidden. And now, he was a part of my past.

I had to remind myself of that, over and over again. We were nothing to one another. Only memories.

Monica, a coworker, crept past my desk and leaned against it, giving me a broad smile. She tapped her nails against the desk, shrugging slightly.

“Daydreaming again?” she asked. She could always see straight through me.

“Not about him,” I said, my nostrils flared. “It’s over. I know that. I’m not delusional.”

Monica chuckled. “I’ve never seen you more caught up on anyone in your life. Don’t you think it’s time you headed back to that mountain of yours and see if it could be real love? It’s not something you can shake…”

Gathering my papers into a folder, I gave her an ominous look. “You know I have too much work to do.”

“Around the holidays? Things always slow down,” Monica said, almost pleading with me now. “And I don’t want you to have to spend all the next year alone.”

“As if being alone was so terrible all the years before?” I asked, laughing sadly.

I remembered, with a jolt, what it felt like to have Gracie’s hand wrapped around my fingers. I remembered what it felt like to be included, to be loved. Now, I spent nearly every evening alone on my couch, burying myself in work papers. I spent the hours nibbling at takeout from the nearby burrito shack, wondering if I’d have time to cook a meal again.

“Just consider it,” Monica sighed. Leaning forward, she gazed into my eyes, as if trying to stare into the depths of my soul.

“What is it?” I asked her, growing perturbed. I wasn’t accustomed to being stared at. I brought my fingers through my hair, untangling a small coil. “Is there something on my face?”

“You’re just looking a little green, is all,” Monica said, placing her hand on my shoulder and jostling it slightly.

“Just haven’t eaten yet,” I lied, feeling my stomach twist and turn within me.

Truthfully, I’d tried to eat lunch a few hours before. But the sandwich had seemed all dried up and sour-looking, despite consisting of fresh bread, vegetables, and cheese. I’d bundled it back up, untouched, in a piece of paper towel and given it to a homeless person on the corner, chalking it up to nerves about my packed schedule.

“Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” Monica sighed, playing with her long, red hair. “I’ll do my best for you. But if you can’t see that what you had with Ethan was really something—”

“I better be off to my meeting,” I told her, my voice false and chipper.

I burst up from my desk, gripping my folder of papers, and began to walk with purpose toward the front foyer. I raced past several other lawyers, and two of my clients, who were waiting for our meeting in ten minutes.

After exchanging nods with them, I burst into the bathroom and into the stall, feeling my knees clacking together as I sat down. Tears began to quiver down my cheeks. I knew, in these desolate moments, that I would never see Ethan again. I was too much of a mess to be anything for him.

I had to refocus all my efforts on the law.

With a jolt, I burst up from the toilet, spun around, and retched. I stared down at the water, blinking wildly.

The next moments allowed a kind of internal peace. I flushed the toilet, readjusted my jacket, and moved back into the offices, ready to greet my clients with a broad smile. In the back of my mind, I swept the nauseous spell under a rug and focused on my meeting.

“Shane Merkley?” I said to the new client, a broad-shouldered ex-mob boss (although that was always alleged) with a handsome face, dimples, and a thick, black head of curls.

Shane stood up with a confident air when I approached him. He’d recently left jail, after putting up bail. I’d been assessing his charge for hours, trying to hone a plan of attack.

“That’s me,” he said, his voice deep, yet warm. He was entirely self-assured, a kind of man who made you believe that, just by speaking with him, you were a bit smarter, a bit more assured, yourself. “And you must be Serena?”

“The very same.” I gave him a smile, swallowing a final time to erase all memory of that strange dizzy spell. “If you’ll follow me into my office, we can get started,” I told him, guiding him toward the far room.

As I walked, I restructured my thoughts, reminding myself that Ethan and Gracie were a million miles away, figuratively. That my place was there, with men like Shane Merkley. Innocent until proven guilty. This was a man I could help, unlike Ethan, who had never needed help, who would hide away in his mountain home forever.

I couldn’t dwell on it.

As I faced Shane Merkley, preparing to get the bare bones of his case on paper, I glanced outside at the foggy December day. It would be a new year soon. A new set of numbers on the calendar. And by then, Ethan would be even more of a passing memory.

“You still here?” Shane asked me, leaning forward and giving me a curious, yet charming smile. “Or are you one of those daydreamy types?”

I bowed my head, diving into the white paper below.

“It won’t happen again, Mr. Merkley. You can count on me.”