I hang up the phone with Bryan. It’s only been two days since we last talked, but he was concerned since Dr. Braddock hadn’t heard anything from me about scheduling the surgery.

My acidic reply was “Maybe I decided to go with another neurosurgeon.” That had him laughing in my ear for a good five minutes. Brilliant, arrogant ass. Unfortunately, he’s right.

It’s what condition I’ll be in once he’s done that still has my anxiety spiking and delaying making the calls to learn more about the procedure.

Looking for a distraction, I spy the box of letters from Colby on the counter. I know I told him to think about whether or not he wanted me in his life, but it seems like I’ve heard from everyone but him.

All of my siblings have dropped into the kitchen at different times. I received hilarious pictures of Caleb and Keene with mouths stuffed full of my chocolate caramel brownies that I’m sure they had to blackmail away from Colby. Jason, Phil’s husband, dragged me away from a cake I was decorating to grill me about all things medical. Since he’s an ER doctor at a major hospital in New York City, I wasn’t surprised. I also figure he’d translate things for Phil.

Even Ryan and Jared, Caleb’s brother and brother-in-law, sent me a huge bouquet of irises. I read the card aloud when they were delivered to the office during lunch. It said, “We know you already have these, but a little more never hurts. All our love, Ry and Jared.” Phil explained the meaning behind irises, which mean faith, hope, wisdom, and valor.

Damn, I have a fantastic family. But I still haven’t heard from Colby.

I’ve long shed my chef’s coat and am standing there, staring off into space, when I hear a knock on the kitchen door. “Come in,” I call out absentmindedly.

“I figured I’d knock this time in the event your aim is as good as Keene claimed it was,” a dark voice says from the door. I don’t bother turning around. I’d know that voice it if I was blindfolded in the darkest night since he used to whisper in my ear to get me to sleep. Colby’s here.

“Surprisingly, I’m not having the urge to throw things these days,” I say calmly, despite the fact that my heart’s beating crazily out of my chest. I turn around, and he’s standing there in a long-sleeved dark maroon shirt tucked into his dress slacks. He looks positively gorgeous, but was there ever a time he didn’t?

Meanwhile, I’m still in my typical tattered tank top and jeans. Both of my tattoos are on full display since my hair is in a loose knot on my head. The side of my mouth quirks in a smile as I realize we couldn’t look more different. We couldn’t be more different.

I look like you could toss me back into the trailer park where I grew up and I’d fit in just fine. Colby looks like he could be a model. Shaking my head, I approach the metal table separating us. So many regrets well up inside of me. So many wasted hours, days, years. I shove the sorrow away. “How are you?” I ask benignly.

A devastating smile crosses his face. “That’s not how you normally greet me.”

A laugh escapes. I can’t help it. “Not lately, no. I should apologize for that.”

Colby saunters around the worktable. Standing directly in front of me, he says, “No, that’s not how you used to greet me, Corinna. I never received such a lukewarm greeting from you even when all you used to do was blush in business class. After we became friends, it was always a hug.” Reaching up to push back a piece of hair that escaped my top knot, he reminds me, “Always.”

My mouth gapes open. “You can’t be serious.”

His brows lower. “Were you not serious about what you wrote?”

I sputter. “Of course I was.” I wrote that damned letter six or seven times before I got it right. “But, I mean, look at you. You're all dressed up from work. You can’t mean you want me to touch you right now.”

His face clears. “Clothes wash, Corinna.”

I shake my head. “Colby…” I start to move away. I get maybe a step before I’m hauled against his chest.

“Do you really think I give a rat’s ass about anything when I finally get to hold you in my arms again? Even if it’s just for something as simple as a hug? You read all of my letters. Do you comprehend how much I’ve missed you in my life?” Colby demands.

Placing my hands on his chest, I feel my heart pick up speed. “Maybe I underestimated it a little bit,” I mutter more to myself than him.

“Just a bit,” he replies sarcastically. “Now, how about my hug?”

I study him for a moment, my heart beating out of my chest. I’ve got two choices: I can simply lean in and wrap my arms around his lean waist and give him a perfectly acceptable hug, or I can go for it. Try to bend the arc of time a little for both of us to get us where maybe we both want to be?

For just a moment, I feel like the Corinna I used to be. I’m the Corinna who didn’t give a damn what people thought about the chubby girl with the gorgeous boy. I forget the old fears and the new darkness threatening me. I slide my hands over his shoulders and push. Hard.

The next thing I know, my legs are wrapped around Colby’s waist, and he’s boosting me around my ass as I’m laughing down at him. My arms are thrown around his shoulders, and I’m squeezing with all my might. Dark nights and lonely days disappear. Peals of laughter pour out of me as I toss my head back. My hair falls out of its loose knot and cascades down my back.

“That’s much better,” he murmurs, shifting me more upright. I grin down at him before dismounting. “And now, to answer you, I’m doing a fuck of a lot better than I was before I walked in that door.”

“It sounds like you’re having a bad day.”

“Do you understand what a pain in the ass your brother-in-law is?” he gripes. “He’s an anal-retentive prick with a perpetual smirk on his face.”

I look around in all directions before I lean forward to whisper conspiratorially, “So was his sister when she was pregnant, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Colby grins.

“Is there a particular reason you came by?” What I really want to know is are we really going to stand in my kitchen and talk about the past over stainless-steel tables?

“Actually, I came to see if you wanted to grab something to eat,” he throws out casually.

“Colby! I’m a mess.” I shake my head.

“You look cute. You always do. Come on, I’m starving.” He grins. And because I know he’s always hungry, I can’t help my broad smile. It’s silly because I know time can’t be bent except when memories drag you back. Between the hug I gave him and his perpetual need for food, we’ve been transported back to cold winter days after his workouts where I’d agree to eat at places with nasty cheese and stale corn chips.

Fortunately, I have better taste now and can still appease his horrible taste in food. “Come on. I know just the place.”

“Does it have—”

I cut him off. “Of course it has nachos.” I let out a beleaguered sigh, even as his face lights up.

“What are we waiting for?” Moving to the back door, he unlocks it and holds it open. “I’m starving.”

A few minutes later, I’m sitting in Colby’s Jeep listening to Dave Matthews, feeling just for a moment like I did back in college.

Unburdened.

Digging in my purse for my sunglasses, I slip them on as I tell him how to get to Pancho’s.

“Now this is what I’m talking about,” Colby declares. He raises his Dos Equis in a toast as we’re waiting for our waiter to take our order. “When I ran into Ali last year, she refused to get nachos. Then she barely even ate. I mean, if she wasn’t going to eat, why not let me get something I wanted?”

“Likely because she didn’t want to ruin a dress with your need for spicy cheese sauce?” I reply dryly.

“I was willing to risk my uniform.”

“Which was replaceable.”

He shrugs. I can’t help but chuckle. Such a guy.

The waiter comes back with a basket of salted chips and a bowl of amazing homemade salsa. It’s all I can do to avoid diving in, but I refrain. I know, life’s short, but I’m trying to watch what I eat more because of the vast amount of blood work I’m going to be subject to. Once they clear me for surgery, I swear I’m eating a meal that will require me to undo my pants to sit.

And I’m not cooking a single bite of it.

“I’m torn, Corinna. I mean, you brought me to a place that has three different kinds of nachos on the menu. How am I supposed to decide?” Colby’s gray eyes twinkle at me over the menu.

Without much effort, it appears we’re slipping back into our old relationship. The years seem to be erased with the stroke of each of our pens. I could have lived out the rest of my days holding on to my grudge, but when the significant specter of death hangs over you, lost moments and regret seem to choke you. The anger, the harsh words, the lies you tell yourself versus the precious memories you can still have, all seem worthless.

Keeping the moment light, I reply, “You could order two of them to go.”

The waiter comes up, and we give him our order: a bowl of posole soup for me, and Pancho’s nachos for Colby. Once the waiter walks off, Colby picks up where we left off. “It’s tragic, but no. They’re never as good reheated. Not unless you’re desperate for a hangover cure. Then they’re fan-fucking-tastic.”

I laugh and am rewarded by the smile that slashes across Colby’s face. “Had a lot of those in the last few years?”

He groans. “Enough to say I should know better, and yet not too many to not be stupid with my unit.” He freezes for a moment before shaking his head.

Unconsciously, I reach over and squeeze his fisted hand. “I’m certain they feel the same way about you.” I’m pleasantly surprised when his hand flips over and he grasps mine.

“You’d say that not knowing what happened?” he asks quizzically. His thumb strokes the inner part of my wrist, sending my pulse skyrocketing. I discreetly pull my hand away.

“Despite the years, Colby, I know the kind of leader you are. You’d never have done anything to jeopardize one of your men deliberately,” I say with conviction.

He leans toward me, forearms resting on the table. “That means a hell of a lot, Corinna. I’ve gone over everything time and again in my head, but…” Suddenly he’s interrupted.

“Colby, nothing for years and then twice in a week!” a breathless voice says next to us. We both turn, and I see her.

Addison Kaplan.

Ignoring me completely, she reaches down to give Colby a hug. She doesn’t let him up even when he stands. Wrapping her skinny arms around his waist, she pushes her breasts against his firm abs and gazes up at him adoringly.

They make an attractive couple, I think dispassionately.

Colby has the good grace to look at me uncomfortably. “Addison.” He’s uneasy, likely because of what I told him earlier in the week.

“I know we ran into each other at Jack’s office, but I actually live here in Danbury. It must have been meant for us to see each other again. What are you doing here? Craving something?” She’s practically purring.

Self-centered bitch, I think with some amusement. That amusement dissipates rapidly when the conversation takes a completely different turn. Internally, I’m wondering if this shit only happens to me.

“You know how I am,” Colby says noncommittally. Then Addison lets the bomb drop.

“If I remember the last time you and I were together…what, two, three years ago at that event in DC? I do know how you are. That was a hell of a night, wasn’t it?” She runs her hand up his chest possessively.

My mind goes blank. Two or three years ago? Raising my eyes to Colby’s, I see he’s not looking at Addison, who’s desperately trying to imprint her scent on him like a bitch in heat. Appropriate. He’s looking at me, beseechingly. His eyes are begging me for something I just don’t have it in me to give right then.

Calmly, I reach for my cell phone and order an Uber. Pushing back my chair, I stand. “Since you two appear to have so much to catch up on, why don’t you have a seat?” I offer. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I offer, “I’ll have the waiter bring you a menu.”

Without even looking at me or letting go of Colby, Addison scoots in front of me and shoves my water aside. “That’d be great. And if you could have them send out some more chips too since you’re off your break.”

My snicker can’t be contained. “Of course.” Letting loose a barrage of Spanish at the confused waitstaff, I ask if they can deal with the hot mess at the table, as well as cancel my soup. I drop a twenty in the tip jar as I walk out the door to my waiting ride.

In the safety of the car back to Collyer, I ignore the persistent pings on my phone. I feel like an idiot, and I don’t have time for that.

Not anymore.

It’s time to be with people who accept me for who I am, and just live.

Picking up the phone, I call a number I haven’t in some time. When the call is picked up, I ask, “Miss me?” Hearing the husky male laugh on the other end, I grin, knowing the night’s still early.