After a full night out with Chandler, I get to Lacy’s place early, and ring the doorbell.

If she won’t answer my calls, texts, or emails, I’ve got to do this in person.

It’s a chilly November morning. I think about getting a hot coffee at the spot just up the street to sip on while I wait, but I decide against it in case I miss her coming out of her apartment. She’ll probably come out and go to a yoga class or something this morning, if she doesn’t have rehearsal. I press the doorbell again, but there’s no answer.

So I just sit on the stairs, and wait for her.

A few minutes pass. I stare into the street. People bustle down the sidewalks and cars head down the one way.

I perk up when I see a woman in a short skirt and a long jacket on the far corner, just like the Cake song.

My heart hammers a little harder with each step toward me she takes.

It’s her.

My insides curdle as the reality crosses my mind.

She’s been out all night.

Did she...have a one night stand with someone?

And for real this time, not like that fakery she pulled with Lance to put one over my me.

I take deep breaths as she approaches, to calm the jealousy creeping up in my mind.

She’s not mine any more.

Although I used to feel that way.

Since I was the one who couldn’t put a label on us when she came to New York, I shouldn’t be upset. Lacy was open to a relationship, and I was the one who shut down.

She’s twenty feet away. I stand up, and see her body react, tensing up. She’s got on sunglasses.

Don’t be that jealous guy, I tell myself again, trying my best to be logical.

You’re just her friend, now. If even that. Maybe less than friends. So she’s got every right to have a one night stand if that’s what she wants.

Lacy slows her step as she arrives in front of me, and all my calming self-talk is overrun by her sexy scent pulling me in. She still smells like club perfume from a night out.

“Hello, Laces,” I growl. “Late night last night?”

She fold her arms.

“No.”

“No, it wasn’t a late night?”

“No, I’m not doing this. We’re not going to become ‘that couple.’” She uses her fingers to make quotes around ‘that couple.’

“What do you mean ‘that couple?’ We’re not a couple.”

“Then why are you here if we’re not a couple?”

“I’m here because I wanted to see you, and you haven’t answered a damn thing I’ve sent you since you left Chicago, aside from last night. And you hung up on me. I want to talk.”

“How did you get my address, Carter?” she responds, ignoring me.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Putting her hands on her hips, she shakes her head. “This is fucking incredible. Just perfect timing. That’s sarcasm, in case you were wondering.”

A frog wants to jump out of my throat. “Perfect timing because I caught you coming back from a one night stand?”

She takes her sunglasses off. “That is none of your goddamn business Carter. If I’m on Sugar Daddy dot com, that’s my thing now.”

My heart lurches. “You’re not doing that, are you?”

She winks, and pokes a finger into my chest. “Don’t worry about it.”

I take a deep breath, my entire body clenching up at the thought of her going on a date with anyone.

Logically, I know that’s her business.

But all logic seems to fly out of the window when it comes to Lacy and I.

She rubs her face, flips her hair, and looks me in the eye.

“This is the immutable law of exes,” she frowns, glossy-eyed.

“What’s that?”

“The immutable law of exes: just when you are moving on from your ex, they sense it and get back into the picture, giving you a little breadcrumb of hope and a attention so you can’t move on.”

I swallow, nodding. “So you had just moved on.”

She sniffles. “I’m just starting to feel okay again after...whatever we had last summer. I guess I can’t even technically call you an ex, since you never even let us put a label on us. But I’m not going to just let you march back into my life. We’ve had two tries at being together, both of which ended rather traumatically, to say the least. Clearly, we’re not meant to be.”

I rub my temples. She’s right. But I still can’t believe one-hundred percent that we’re not meant to be together.

The voice might be faint that thinks we have a chance, but it’s not dead.

Not yet.

“So what the hell are you doing here, Carter? Seriously.”

She puts her hands on her hips, and her tone is more agitated than I’ve ever heard her in my life.

A bolt of anxiety shoots through me as I interpret that tone.

It’s not Lacy’s playful I don’t want you but really, I do tone like she started with when she moved in last summer.

This is a true you’re an asshole and you burned me tone.

Blinking a few times, I take a deep breath.

“I came by here because I wanted to see you.”

“You said, and I quote: ‘Good luck in New York. Hope you enjoyed your time with Mr. One Night Stand.’ I felt like a fucking business transaction, Carter. After building up hope for the summer, that is how you end things?”

“I’m bad at goodbyes, sometimes.”

“Bad? More like catastrophic. Oh God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

I put my hand on her hip. “Wait. The reason I came here, too, is I’m feeling all sorts of fucked up. I do feel bad about how I left things.”

“You do?” The softness welling up in her eyes gives me at least an iota of hope.

“And stuff’s getting wild with me, too. I just found out Chandler and I might not even be brothers.”

She furrows her brow. “Oh my God. But how is that possible? Was the test inaccurate?”

I shake my head. “The test was accurate. Turns out Jake Whitehead, the man who Chandler had visited--and the one whose DNA is on file with the Ancestry test--has an identical twin named Jeff Doonsbury. And that identical twin has never submitted to an ancestry registry.”

Her jaw drops, and Lacy blinks a few times. She starts to speak, but nothing comes out.

I continue. “Makes sense, in a way. I mean if you are married and fucking across the country, you’d want to keep a low profile, right? Last thing you’d want to do is to put your DNA onto a public database where your children could find you. So it’s looking like Jack Whitehead is his bum identical twin brother. Far-fetched, I know. But stranger things have happened.”

Lacy looks up at the sky for a few moments, then back at me.

A red-orange leaf falls from a nearby maple tree, eventually landing in her hair. I grab it.

Her eyes search mine, and I see that kindness still hidden underneath her the ice cold veneer she’s put between us.

Without saying anything, she takes a step, wraps her arms around me and hugs me.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she whispers. “I just think you need a hug.”

My body floods with endorphins, and feel Lacy’s head rest right underneath my chin.

“Thanks.”

The wave of emotion nearly makes me shaky, but I don’t let her see that.

I still want her.

I still care about her.

I still love her.

Just then, I see my second favorite New York City resident come strolling down the sidewalk, and Lacy and I break from our hug.

“Hi Lance.”

“Oh wow, you got my name on the first try,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Very impressive.”

I flash a toothy grin. “I’ve been studying flashcards.”

“Did I come at a bad time?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Lacy says. “We were just…”

“Going for a walk,” I interject.

“We were?” Lacy echoes.

“One walk-and-talk.”

“Alright,” she says.

Lance hands Lacy her cappuccino. “Sorry, man. I would have gotten you something if I knew you were coming.”

“I’ll let it go this time,” I say.

As we head through Central Park, and I feel like I’m in a scene in one of the movies filmed here. It’s a sunny day, and joggers, walkers, and dogs amble by us, trying to get their daily dose of vitamin D.

“I wasn’t joking about the immutable law of exes, you know,” Lacy says. “Last night was the first night we’d really gone out since we got to New York.”

I nod, wanting to believe her, but I’m not sure if she’s just saying that to comfort me.

She sips her coffee and continues. “You wanted to talk about your father.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. It’s not that I wanted to talk about him, really. I just thought you should know. And I wanted to tell someone who knows what’s going on with me. Besides Chandler and Amy, you’re the only one who knows. I’ve had a private detective looking into him, and I’m going to try and meet him.”

“Holy cow. Does your mom know you’re going on this quest to find him?”

“I told her. She said to keep her informed on a need to know basis. She really, truly hates that man.”

We walk in silence for a few moments, the chilly breeze hitting our faces.

“I’m sorry I reacted like I did, Carter. And I’m happy to be a friend to you. But I think at this point, that’s all we should be. Friends, and no more, if we’re going to keep in contact.”

My stomach coils, as I think about the promise I’ve made myself since the summer ended: to always tell the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

“I don’t think I can be in your life and not be attracted to you. I can’t lie. I can’t imagine myself not want something with you,” I finally say. The words sound awkward and forced. Relationship chat isn’t something I’m used to.

Lacy nods, slowly. “I want to help you through this thing with your dad. I still feel slightly responsible for how everything went. But...can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

She takes a deep breath. “I think you projected a lot of your anger onto me, for your mom lying to you. She lied to you for a long time, Carter. She could have at least told you he was alive. And you freaked out at me.”

“He was as good as dead,” I point out.

“But he wasn’t dead. And now you’re twenty-seven years old, and still dealing with the scars he left you. But there’s a strong argument to be made that if your mom was being honest with you from the beginning, you wouldn’t have gotten as messed up as you did when you turned eighteen. It wasn’t that your dad wasn’t around that bothered you, as much as it was the lie. And I’m happy to help you, as a friend. Nothing more.”

“Funny. I usually have the problem of girls putting me in the fuck-zone, not the friend-zone.”

She rolls her eyes slightly. “So funny I forgot to laugh. Have you started seeing a therapist yet?”

I shake my head.

“You should really do that. There’s nothing to be ashamed in finding one. And, don’t take this the wrong way, but if anyone needs a therapist, it’s you.”

I nod. “Chandler mentioned that, too. I should see one.”

She spins her head around. “That’s it? You’re not going to argue with me?”

“I think you’re right. I’m fucked up.”

Lacy chuckles a little, and lets her chin hang down. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing from you. Figures.”

“What figures?”

“It’s the immutable law of exes. I was completely ready move on. But right now you’re being reasonable, for once.” She blows out a loud exhale as a cold cross breeze hits us. “The morning sun was shining like a red rubber ball, and I felt good about the future, finally. I met a nice guy, and--”

“So you did meet a guy,” I seethe, trying to keep my tone from sounding too angry. I know she’s got a right to date whoever she wants, but when the image of her kissing some other guy pops into my head, jealousy streaks through me.

“I can kiss whoever I want,” Lacy retorts. “And besides, it was just a kiss. We’re not serious or anything.”

“Just a kiss,” I repeat. “Just a kiss.”

Taking a deep breath, I decide I need to change up my strategy and tell her what I’m feeling. “Laces, I’ll be blunt. I want you back in my life. And I’ve changed a lot in the last several months.”

“You said you just wanted to talk. Now you’re saying you want to get back together. So which is it?’

“Both.”

“No, we’re not getting back together.”

“Why not?”

“How do I know that you’ve changed for real?”

“I don’t know. But I have.”

She shakes her head. “I think you’re here because you’re only interested in what you can’t have. And once you get it, you lose interest.”

We head into a pedestrian tunnel. Maybe it’s the fact that her words are mostly true that makes me feel so hurt by them.

“That’s not true.”

“Then why didn’t you commit to me when you had the chance, last summer? You had your chance. I’m happy to be your friend, but no more.”

I stand close to her in the tunnel. A biker whizzes by.

I search her eyes for any sort of weak spot, any point of entry, but I find none.

“What are you thinking right now? That I just came here to see you...to try and be friends with you?”

She flits her eyes away from me, exhales deeply, and brings them back to me.

“You said you just wanted to talk. I don’t know. I think that you want what you can’t have. And now that you know I’m serious about moving on, you want me back. But it’s all a game to you, Carter. And I’m done playing. You had your chance. I cared for you so much this past summer. I wanted to keep things going. But truly, I don’t believe your heart has space for anyone but yourself.”

Her words cut like a sword twisting into my gut. But she doesn’t stop.

“You wanted a summer of hot sex? Well you got it. It was pretty damn hot, Carter. But you can’t move past the superficial. I do feel bad that I may have played a small part in your trust issues…”

“Small part?” I growl, turning away from her and taking a few steps. My head is muddy with anger. “Small?” I choke out. “You made me this way. You made me what I am.”

She turns her head away from me. “Sounds like you haven’t changed one bit.”

Running a hand through my hair, I spin around, feeling my eyes harden on her face. Her expression is steadfast, and I know she’s serious about this breakup.

“When we were dating my senior year, how did you look me in the eye every time I brought up my father, and not just come clean? Did your heart hurt? Or were you stone-cold on the inside, stone-faced on the outside, just like you are right now?”

Her upper lip quivers ever so slightly, and she shakes her head.

“No. We’re not going back down this road. You’re not putting all the blame onto me again.”

“And why the hell not? You’re trying to tell me why you didn’t affect my trust issues. I’m telling you, I loved you then, Lacy. I know it was silly, high school, teenage love, but for what it was worth, I loved you. You can’t deny how true it is.”

“Don’t say that,” she grits out, her eyes glossing over.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“You never told me once that you loved me.”

“I was waiting patiently for the right time. I didn’t want to freak you out and get all lovey-dovey on you.”

We hold each others’ gaze for a moment. “You never said that,” she repeats. “Why are you guilt-tripping me right now over the past? What’s done is done. This isn’t you’d talk if you were changed.”

We lock eyes. She bites her lower lip, and next thing I know, my body is moving before I can think.

I eclipse the space between us with two quick steps, and press my lips against hers.

For a moment, she succumbs, and I feel her body melt into me just like it did all last summer. Her mouth, her lips, have that one-of-a-kind taste, and touching them is like a reincarnation.

Plus, I realize my lips haven’t kissed since the day she left.

Our moment is interrupted when I feel Lacy’s palm push my shoulder, and she turns her head away.

“No,” she says, cocking her head to the side so I can’t kiss her lips.

“No? What do you mean no?”

“Have you not heard the fucking word no before?” she screams loudly, and a couple of pedestrians look our way. “I’m not kissing you!”

“You’re telling me you didn’t feel anything in your heart right now?”

Shaking her head, she takes several steps away from me, and I think I see her wipe away a tear.

“Like I said, Carter. You’ve made your bed, so sit in it. You only want me now because you can’t have me. I’m not falling for it. As soon as I say yes, I’ll be old news again. Goodbye. Don’t follow.”

“So this is it. We’re done?”

She nods. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. But please, don’t try to contact me.”

I feel my heart start to fade away, and then she turns back toward me. “You’re still blaming me for the things that happened. And I feel this way anymore. If you were serious about moving forward with me, you could let it go. It’s not fair to the men I’m dating if you’re in the background. I’m sorry. It’s best you moved on, as well. I think we both know it.”

She walks away into the brisk fall afternoon, and I feel my energy deflate like I’m a balloon that just got popped.

I want to run after her.

Grovel.

Beg.

Whatever it takes.

But something tells me none of that will do anything.

I’ve never seen her so resolute.

Worse, a distinct realization of guilt wracks through me, and a pang of self-loathing sets in.

I feel helpless. Like I’m ready to give her what she wants and needs--finally--but it’s too little, too late. But deep down I know I can’t stop caring about her no matter how hard I try.

The other pedestrians walking by are a blur. I take a few steps out of the tunnel, my jaw hanging slack as Lacy disappears into the distance, while my heart can’t stop calling out to her.

An intense melancholy consumes me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s a feeling of finality, that this is truly the end of us.

Someone recognizes me in the park, and a couple of teenagers come up, wanting a photo.

“Holy shit, you’re Carter Flynn, can I have a photo with you?”

I wave him off. “Not now, my man.”

Stumbling off the path and onto the grass of Central Park, my legs feel weak. Slack. I’m lightheaded, totally consumed by the nothingness.

My fault. This is all my fault.

All I had to do was tell Lacy I wanted to stay together. To try something.

I can live with the pain of letting her go but not with the knowledge that I broke her heart. That’s what hurts the worst.

But why can’t she give me a second chance to prove myself?

Or a third chance? What chance am I on, now?

The words my fault repeat themselves over and over, but as the whirl of fall browns, oranges and reds blur around me, an alternate possibility hits me.

This is all not your fault.

And it’s not Lacy’s fault, either.

It’s my damn father’s fault.

What kind of a man leaves his offspring to fend for himself for his whole life?

That’s not a man.

That’s a coward.

My father is a coward who couldn’t come to terms with his own actions.

Or maybe this is just me deflecting the guilt I have for being a monster with the best girl who ever loved me. Did she love me? If she didn’t, it was close to love.

I clench my fists, feeling my entire body tighten.

Fuck this. Fuck all of it.

I stumble on the root of a tree, trip and fall.

Rage overrides all of my senses. And fuck this tree.

I growl and wind up with my left hand, punching it’s hard-wood trunk square with my fist.

“Fuck,” I scream as pain shoots through my fist and arm.

I glance over at my hand, and I see blood.

I see a wound.

I see bone.

Fuck.