I don’t want to be in this fancy restaurant with Josh. I want to be in the diner with Blue eating hamburgers and drinking cherry soda.

“I am,” I reply. “But now I’m in marketing and ad campaigns. I love it, I’m never bored.”

“That’s better than answering phones, huh?” Years ago, he used to call the office and ask me strange questions in a fake accent just to break up the boredom of my day.

“Definitely. So, what about you? Are you still in accounting?”

He puts his menu off to the side. “Yeah, but only part time.”

I glance at him with budding curiosity. “Oh? What are you doing with the other part of your time?”

“Modeling and acting,” he says with a big smile.

I stare at him, waiting for him to say he’s just kidding. But he’s serious. “Modeling and acting?” I repeat. “Really?”

He grabs a roll from the basket on the center of the table and takes a bite out of it. He chews and swallows before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Josh! That’s so freakin’ amazing! What kind of work have you done?”

“Nothing memorable or overly exciting yet. Fashion shoots, and a couple walk-on parts for television and a cable movie. It’s a lot of fun. I never thought in a million years I’d be doing anything like this.”

“I’m blown away. And so proud of you. I never even knew you wanted to model or act.”

“Me either. I just kind of fell into it. I met a photographer at the gym who asked if I’d be interested in modeling and he hooked me up from there.”

“That’s incredible. Can you show me any of it? Do you have pictures or the movies you were in? I’d love to see.”

“Yeah, I have some of the pictures and magazines at home. You should come by and I’ll show you.”

“Of course I will.”

Ditra will lose her mind when I tell her about this, and I wonder if Josh might be interested in taking her out as more than just friends. She could use a good, normal man in her life now that she’s put her sexual escapades behind her.

I could use a normal man, too, but I don’t want one. There’s only one man for me.

“Your daughter is adorable,” Josh says after the waiter comes to take our order. “Are you involved with her father?”

The mere mention of Blue gives me a small twitch in my chest. I sip my ice water, then shake my head. “No. We broke up before I knew I was pregnant. He doesn’t even know she exists.”

“Damn, that’s harsh.”

“I’m not keeping her from him, Josh. I would never do that. I have no way to get in touch with him. I wish I did.”

“Was it serious? You and him?”

If the definition of serious is feeling like my heart was ripped out of my chest and abducted, then yes, it was serious.

“For me it was, and I felt like it was for him, too.” I meet his hazel eyes. “It’s a really complicated situation.”

He nods with acceptance. “Enough said. I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t ask about your ex if you don’t ask about mine. If you want to talk about him, go for it. If not, no big deal. None of my business.”

Relief ebbs through me, dissipating the anxiety and heartache that always comes when I think about Blue. “Deal. And same for you, if you want to talk, I’m here.”

If I can hide my heartache and savor my memories in peace, then I’m fine with Josh doing the same.

We share stories about our jobs and families over dinner, filling each other in on what we missed over the past few years. It’s odd how so much is the same, but so much has changed, too.

“You should take Ditra out,” I suggest when dessert arrives. “She hasn’t had much luck dating. She’s a little crazy, but I think she’s ready for something serious.”

An odd smile touches his lips and he scoops up a spoonful of crème brûlée. “I think she’s a little more than I can handle,” he admits. “And I gotta be honest, I’m not ready to get involved with someone. My last relationship messed me up.”

I’m all too familiar with the flash of pain in his eyes and the invisible wall his words build between us. Honestly, it’s all a welcome relief. Not because I want him to be hurt, but because he understands exactly how I feel.

We’re on the same page.

Chapter Eighteen

I lock my office and wave goodbye to the co-workers who are working late. Digging out my keys as I exit the building and head toward my car, I run a mental list of everything I need to do on the way home. Put gas in my car. Stop at the grocery store for milk and bread. Pick up Lyric at my Mom’s house, and ignore her when she points out that Courtney is on a date on a Friday night and I’m not.

My heart jumps into my throat when I throw my messenger bag and my purse onto the passenger seat. I pull my door closed and lock it. Taking a deep breath, I finally reach for the white piece of paper that’s folded and sticking out of my cup holder.

I look out the windshield. Then the side windows. I glance in the rearview mirror, searching frantically for him.

No one is in the parking lot except for me.

An ache grows in my chest as I look down at the note in my trembling hand. I rub my thumb along the familiar texture of the paper. My teeth dig into my quivering lower lip as my heart and my brain battle.

My brain says tear the note up into tiny pieces and throw it away. Forget him and his ever-frustrating elusiveness. I have no room in my life for games. Besides, nothing written in this note can change anything. It will only rip open barely healed wounds and infect them all over again.

My heart says open it. Open it right now. Don’t wait another second! I’ve been hoping and waiting for this for years. A sign. An explanation. A something. Maybe the words inside could change everything.

The heart always wins.

I slowly unfold the note, and I swear I can smell his scent on the paper. Smokey, minty, Bluesy.

Piper,

I’ve walked a million steps and none of them have taken me from you. I’ve written thousands of words and none of them capture you. I’m haunted by you, driven by you, madly in love and lust with you. I want to be good for you. I want to give you everything. Someday I will. Please believe that. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to be better. Things are getting better. I’m so tired of the bad. I’m trying. Every day I’m fighting the voices and the words. I miss you. I miss Acorn. You don’t know how much. Don’t forget me, baby. Hate me if you have to, but don’t stop loving me. I want you to be happy. I want it to be me so fucking bad.

I’m sorry this is a mess. I’m sorry I’m a mess.

I love you like no tomorrow. Always.

Blue

My hand shakes uncontrollably by the time I reach the last word. I read it again.

And again.

I read it over and over until I can hear his raspy voice say the words, and they cut like a knife, slicing through the center of my chest, tearing out my heart and soul. He was here—when? Hours ago? Minutes ago? Did he watch me go into the office this morning? Is he watching me now? Once again, I stare out the windshield into the parking lot, then turn to look out the side windows, then the rearview mirror.

He’s not here. I’m still alone.

Sniffling and choking on the emotions wrenching up inside me, I fold the note and shove it into my purse.

Why would he come back here and not want to see me? I can’t even comprehend it. I’d do anything to see him, to feel his arms and the warmth of his body around me again. If he loves me, why would he hide from me? After all this time, why wouldn’t he want to see me face to face?

I wipe away the tears tracking down my cheeks and throw the car into drive. Maybe it’s not too late—he could still be here, walking around nearby.

Five o’clock commuter traffic doesn’t let me get very far, though, and I bang my hand against the steering wheel in frustration when I have to sit at the traffic light at the intersection near my office through three intervals. I scour the surrounding sidewalks, searching for his hair blowing in the wind, his backpack and guitar slung over his shoulder. The baby seat in the back seat catches my eye in the rearview mirror and my heart skips a beat. Did he see it when he put the note in my car? Did it scare him away? Oh, God. What if he thinks I had a baby with someone else? Now, more than ever, I have to find him and tell him about Lyric before he disappears again.

When the traffic lets up, I drive up and down the main street, past the park and all the places Blue used to play, but I don’t see him anywhere. I know I should give up on this craziness—run my errands, pick up my little girl, and go home. But I don’t. Like a magnet I’m pulled to the only other place I think Blue might be.

The house with the shed.

Years ago I made a promise to myself to never come back here and torture myself with the memories and the questions that haunt this place. I almost broke that promise several times over the years when I was missing Blue so damn much I wanted to do anything to feel close to him again. Every time I fought the urge and forced myself to stay home, playing the music box and staring at the flameless candle he gave me.

“I thought maybe you could take one home with you and put it by your bed. So you know I’m thinking about you.”