I used the heel of my hand to blot a tear in the corner of my eye. It was the best way to keep the mascara from smudging. I sniffed involuntarily. I didn’t have a tissue on me.

“I do understand. I just hoped that I could set up a second payment plan,” I explained. I worked to keep the pleading to a minimum.

“Miss Rossi, we don’t want our patients to go into unnecessary debt.”

My throat closed. This wasn’t unnecessary to me. Quite the opposite. It was completely necessary in every way.

“But I only need one more treatment. I have this feeling, you know? If I could set another appoint—”

The nurse cut me off. Her voice was soft but firm. “Not until you have a zero account balance. It’s against our policy. I’m happy to forward a copy of the paperwork you signed. This was outlined and explained to you in your initial exam. It’s standard for all patients.”

I leaned against the wall in the hallway to the kitchen. I could hear Leo screaming something to the dishwasher. I walked outside in my short-sleeve shirt despite the snow. I didn’t want the distractions from the kitchen to interfere with this call.

“Maybe if I could talk to Dr. Mickson again. She knows my case. She’s worked with me since the beginning. And really, she said I’m the perfect candidate to keep trying. If you’d just consider making an exception this once.”

Ok. I had given up on not begging. I was going into full-blown groveling mode if I had to. I just needed this nurse to understand what she was telling me. What she was denying me.

“Miss Rossi, no. Our accountant will be in touch. Until then I can’t schedule any more treatments for you. Call us back when you’re ready to move forward again. Best of luck to you.”

I stared at the blank screen on the phone. The snowflakes melted instantly when they touched the shiny surface. I wiped it against my shirt before stuffing it into the front pocket on my apron.

I heard my name through the screen door.

“Evelyn, you’ve got a guy at seven.”

“Coming,” I called. There was something calming about watching the snow fall. Even if it was only for a deceptive few seconds. It felt peaceful. Tranquil.

I straightened my spine and pulled my ponytail higher on my head. I had a way of dealing with a crisis—I didn’t. I’d pretend that phone call never happened. I’d march into the restaurant and serve the customer at table seven. It was as if I could pull a curtain down between my heart and my brain. It worked like a charm.

I would never admit that my last chance to have a baby had evaporated. I wasn’t going to face that I was in debt over ten thousand dollars to the fertility clinic, or that every in vitro I tried ended the same way. With a negative pregnancy test.

I wasn’t ready to look in the mirror and accept that I was only two weeks away from turning thirty, with no boyfriend, in a town with no single men to date.

“Where is she?” the head chef snapped.

“On my way.” I smiled at Leo. “I heard you, Leo. I’ve got him.” I patted the lumbering chef on the back as I walked past to the dining room. I was certain we had hired the grumpiest chef in the county. Nothing made him happy.

He huffed. “He’s been out there ten minutes waiting for you.”

“I know. I know.”

“And we’re out of the chicken parm until dinner,” he barked. “Don’t even let him think that’s an option.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed through the swinging door that led to the dining area. It took a moment to adjust to the dimness. My parents had opened Bella’s long before I was born. They adhered to the Lady and the Tramp style for restaurant decor. Red and white checked tablecloths. Wax-dripped chianti bottles as centerpieces. They didn’t care about the fire hazards of open candle flames. It was dark other than the lights coming from the bar.

I walked toward seven. It was the corner booth farthest from the kitchen. It was odd to have a customer in between lunch and dinner. And it was Monday, our slowest day of the week. Cal looked up from polishing a beer stein and grinned at me as I walked by the old-fashioned bar. It was the last of its kind in the county.

“Hey, there. I’m Evelyn.” I placed a menu in front of the customer, along with the wine list. My parents were proud all the alcohol they served was authentic Italian. Not a single American wine on the menu.

He leaned back into the red vinyl cushion. His large frame made the booth seem small. I tried to make out his features.

He squinted at me. I looked at him again.

We both smiled.

“Evie Rossi.”

“Well hey there, Jeremy Hartwell.”

“I wondered if your parents still ran this place.” He rubbed his jaw. “It’s been at least twelve years since I was here last.”

He stood to pull me into a hug.

I would be completely lying if I tried to say he didn’t look hotter than sin. Because he was mister sex-on-a-stick. Always had been—even in high school. He was that guy. The one we all dreamed about. Tall, dark, handsome. A cut angular jaw that made him look brooding even when he wasn’t. Crystal blue eyes that melted the panties off every cheerleader in high school. And I had no idea what cologne he was wearing, but it was some incredible combination of masculine spice. I inhaled deeply before he let me go.

I pushed back from his solid chest. Damn, he was like a wall of steel. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “It’s so good to see you.”

He returned to the booth. It bounced under his heavy body.

“In town for my father’s will reading.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I placed a hand on his shoulder.

The glimmer in his eyes wasn’t as bright. “Thanks.”

“I heard he passed. It was sudden, wasn’t it?”

Jeremy nodded. “Sudden as a heart attack.”

“I truly am sorry. But, it’s nice to have you in Newton Hills. It’s been a long time.”

“I appreciate that, Evie. I’m headed out on a red eye. Thought I’d have a few drinks.”

“Oh, of course.” I fumbled with my pen. “What can I bring you?”

He pointed to the last bottle of red on the wine list. “This one looks good.”

I raised my eyebrows. “The Malbec?” It was a heavy wine for the middle of the day. And it was our most expensive bottle. It was the one only ordered on anniversaries or elaborate wedding proposals. I was sure wherever those bottles were, they were dusty.

“For starters.”

“Ok. I’ll be right back with a bottle and a glass for you.”

I turned from the corner booth and met Cal at the side of the bar. “I need a bottle of Malbec. Is there one here or are they all in the cellar?”

“Your father won’t let me keep that up here.”

I already knew the answer. I sighed. “All right. I’ll get it.”

Cal was pushing seventy-five. He had a bad knee, and navigating the cellar stairs wasn’t easy for him anymore.

I flipped the switch for the cellar light and jogged downstairs in search of the bottle for Jeremy Hartwell.

It was strange he was at Bella’s. He had been the town’s most successful and famous product. Newton Hills’ golden boy. He had everything. Money. Wealthy family business. Killer smile. A delicious body. A full baseball scholarship, and then a contract for the major leagues. I’d never thought about how many years it had been until he mentioned it. Did twelve years really go by that quickly?

I peeked around the corner and realized I had left the light on in my office. Office was a generous term. My dad let me claim a corner spot in the cellar. I had hung a few heavy draperies from the wooden beams overhead to section it off for privacy. There was enough space for a small couch I hauled down the stairs, a writing desk, an old lamp, and my laptop. It was my escape spot in between shifts and sometimes after work when the restaurant was quiet.

I found the bottle of red and wiped it clean with my apron before running back to the bar.

Cal eyed me. “You know this is a special bottle.”

“Just please open it for me.” I smiled. “We have a special customer. That’s Jeremy Hartwell over there.”

I didn’t feel like I could keep Jeremy waiting. I looked at him over my shoulder. He was scrolling through his phone.

“Here you go, sugar.” Cal placed the bottle and a glass on a tray for me.

“Thank you.” I grinned at the bald bartender.

Jeremy barely glanced up when I poured the deep rich wine. “Do you want anything else? Maybe some appetizers? Or a salad?”

He shook his head. His blue eyes were dark enough to be mistaken for black diamonds.

“I just want to drink, Evie.”

“All right. Let me know if you need something.”

I turned from the booth.