Claire Worthington believed that life moved in only one direction. Forward.

“Mom!” Danielle said excitedly as she approached Claire down the wide UCLA hallway. “My psychology class is so lit. The instructor is on fire.”

Claire gathered up her iPhone and iPad, drew her handbag over her shoulders. She’d been waiting for two hours for her daughter’s classes to end. “So… you like it?” Claire asked for clarification.

Danielle grinned. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

“That’s great,” she said. Claire glanced at her watch. She had just enough time to get Danielle to her counseling session at Resolutions Treatment Center, then they could have a quick lunch before Claire’s meeting with a new artist coming in at two o’clock.

They walked together down the hall at UCLA, dodging students hurrying to their next class, most of them looking down at their phones.

“He runs the Psychology Clinic, so he’s gonna let us observe some sessions. Can you believe it? It’s my first semester and I already get to observe.”

“That’s great, honey,” Claire said. Ever since Danielle began mental health treatment last winter, she’d been dead-set on studying psychology. She’d been so disappointed that her hospitalization had caused her to drop out of her advanced classes in the spring, that Claire had pulled some strings and gotten her into summer classes at the university at the last minute.

Scheduling had been an utter nightmare ever since. Spring had been a process of Danielle finishing up high school in Ft. Worth and moving to Los Angeles. Fortunately, Claire already had a house in L.A. Considering everything that had happened in the last few months, the move had gone smoothly.

Since Claire had to attend mental health counseling with Danielle twice a week, Claire drove her to class those days.

“Grayson is even going to have an art therapist come talk to us so we can see what that’s like.”

Claire stopped and gazed at her daughter, causing the other students to flow around them.

“Mom, what?” Danielle had that panicky Please don’t let the other students find out I have parents look on her face. “Come on.”

Claire followed, but her brain remained frozen. The art therapy part was interesting and Claire wanted to hear more about it. Later.

Something else entirely had her attention, however, at the moment.

Grayson.

A name that was becoming more popular with babies born today, but quite unusual during Claire’s generation. She knew because she’d looked it up.

Did she dare ask?

She had to know. “What’s his last name?” she asked, holding her breath.

Danielle shifted her backpack and smiled as she checked an incoming text. “I don’t know,” she said, keeping her eyes on her phone. “Can we skip therapy today?”

“No,” Claire said automatically, exhaling in frustration. Danielle asked the same question nearly every day. Today, however, her daughter was particularly glowing. The psychologist had warned her that Danielle would have fleeting moments of happiness. But that had been months ago. Surely at some point she no longer had to worry when her daughter was happy.

“What did he look like?” She asked.

“Grayson?”

“Yes. Shouldn’t you call him Dr. or Mr. or something?”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “It’s not the south, Mom. It’s L.A.” Then she stopped texting and looked up at her mother. “Cute,” she said. “About Daddy’s size. Your age maybe. I don’t know. Do you want me to find out if he’s married?”

“Heavens no!” Claire said, feeling the flush on her cheeks.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I had a friend in high school named Grayson. But it couldn’t possibly be the same guy.”

Danielle shook her head and attached her gaze back to her phone. “No way. He wouldn’t have been your type. This guy just retired from the Air Force.”

Claire clasped a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping. Grayson Moore had been in the delayed entry program and entered the Air Force the day after graduation. He’d promised to write, but he hadn’t. Not even once. Not one letter. Not one phone call. It was twenty years ago, so they hadn’t had cell phones. Well, Claire had a cell phone, but Grayson didn’t. Grayson hadn’t had email either.

She sighed as she steered Danielle, whose attention was glued to her phone, her fingers flying over the screen, toward the car. Things would have been so much different if they’d simply had cell phones back then.

The name and the Air Force part matched up, but a psychology instructor? Claire tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited for traffic to move.

That didn’t fit. Not even a little.

Danielle’s therapy session was uneventful. Danielle seemed to be truly excited to be starting college. Her daughter had just gotten back from spending a week with her father Noah and his new wife. Claire and Noah been divorced just over six months. Noah had gotten married the day after he and Claire had officially gotten divorced. Talk about not letting the ink dry.

But Claire was happy to have it over with. Now she didn’t have to worry about the obligatory visits to Ft. Worth to be with her husband.

Claire had a house in L.A. and a growing business. She’d been growing her business for years, but her husband had no idea. He thought she was here sipping mimosas with her girlfriends.

Technically, she began to network before she even married Noah. By the time they were married, she was having business meetings several times a week. Throughout the early part of their marriage, Noah thought Claire was taking money from her father to supplement Noah’s income. She never told him the truth. She’d been earning the money and never once touched her father’s. Well, that didn’t include the start-up money her father had given her, but Claire didn’t count that since she’d paid it off in mere months.

After the session, she and Danielle drove back toward the university and had lunch at a trendy little restaurant set up in the middle of a greenhouse. Claire ordered a fried green tomato po’boy with avocados, and veggie bacon and Danielle ordered a shrimp po’boy. If the two of them had a favorite restaurant to go to together, it would have to be this one. It was called the York and Orleans and they both had favorite lunch items on the menu.

Claire was sending an email on her phone to a vendor to begin discussing wine options for an upcoming fundraising event. As she hit send, she noticed that Danielle had uncharacteristically set her phone down on the table and was staring across the crowded restaurant.

Though Claire glanced in that direction, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Then she heard his laugh.

Every nerve cell in her body tensed.

And a memory from twenty plus years ago was awakened.

“Mom?” Danielle whispered. “It’s him.”

“It’s who?” She whispered back, but her eyes were glued to the handsome man in the white shirt and black slacks three tables over. He sported two-day old stubble on his face and his hair was still thick and dark.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

That’s always how she’d thought of Grayson Moore. Now he was even more handsome with twenty years of maturity on him. If she hadn’t heard his laugh, she probably wouldn’t even have noticed him. Well, she would have noticed him, but she wouldn’t have recognized him.

“It’s Grayson,” Danielle said. “My psych teacher.”

No. Way.

“Come on,” Danielle said. “I’ll introduce you.”

Grayson was with another man, a student perhaps? Or a younger colleague? “No,” she said, but Danielle was already standing up and walking toward his table.

Claire was in full panic mode.

This couldn’t happen. Not like this. She got up and walked the other way. Toward the restroom. She needed a second. Just one second.

Claire Worthington didn’t panic.

Grayson Moore recognized the student who stood at his table. He rarely did, especially after only the first day, but this particular student had been especially enthusiastic and there had been something about her smile that had caught his attention.

“Hi,” she said with that smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m in your psychology class. From today.”

“Sure,” Grayson said. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m really excited about the class, but… I think my mom knows you. Or something.” The student was frowning now and looking across the restaurant. “I was going to introduce you, but she… left.”

“Your mother?” He looked past the girl, searching for someone who looked motherly.

“Yeah. We’re having lunch,” The girl stood next to his chair, searching the restaurant for her missing mother.

Grayson glanced at Bob, an applicant for a teaching position. Shrugged as though to say this happens sometimes.

Bob seemed unaffected. In fact, he used the distraction to finish off his sandwich.

“It’s okay,” Grayson said. “I can meet her next time.”

He followed the girl’s gaze toward the restroom and his eyes locked on the woman walking toward them. His dream woman.

Literally. The woman walking toward them had the same lithe movements as his high school sweetheart.

He knew, however, that it wasn’t her. His high school sweetheart was blonde. And this woman was brunette. He looked more closely at the student with her red bow shaped lips. Then back at the woman walking toward them. He knew that smile. “It’s Claire,” he said.

“Yeah,” Danielle said. “That’s my mother.” She jerked her head around to stare at Grayson. “Wait. How do you know her name?”

Grayson couldn’t answer. His tongue was tied up in knots. The man who talked for a living couldn’t put two syllables together in his head to save his own life at this moment.

Claire stood at his table now, next to her daughter, and Grayson knew why the student’s smile had caught his attention. It was her mother’s smile. The one he had known so well.

Twenty years ago.

His eyes strayed to her lips and his neurons traveled down a path he thought had long been severed from his brain.

“Grayson,” Claire said. “It’s good to see you. You’ve met my daughter, Danielle.”

His brain chemistry was scrambled, but he found himself reflexively returning her smile. Claire may be brunette now, but she was still the girl he’d loved in high school. “It’s good to see you, too, Claire. Where have you been?”

“I stepped into the lady’s room,” she said, her eyes wide with innocence.

Grayson didn’t buy the innocence. She knew he wasn’t being literal. But he let it go for now. When her daughter wasn’t standing next to her, he’d ask again and this time he’d add the words for the last twenty years to his question.

“My daughter has been raving about your class since this morning.”

“I try to make things interesting,” he said, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears. He was trying to wrap his head around Claire having a daughter. They’d talked about having children. Claire had wanted two – a boy and a girl. Grayson had wanted four. Did she have other children? Now that his brain was thawing, so many questions were beginning to form.

If Claire had a child, she was married. Claire Beauchamp was nothing if not traditional. He glanced at her ring finger. No ring. Divorced then. There was a simple diamond on her index finger. And a small diamond on a silver chain around her neck and larger diamonds in her ears. She wore a red pencil skirt with a white jacket cropped to her waist. Black pumps with red bottoms graced her feet. A Gucci handbag hung across her shoulders. Grayson had no doubt that the things she wore at this moment cost more than a month’s salary for him.

That was the Claire he knew. Where did you go?

He wanted to talk to her. Needed to talk to her.

Claire dropped her daughter off at her friend’s house and drove the thirty minutes to the gallery. She had plenty of time to get everything ready before the artist came in at 2:00. The fundraiser was in two weeks, so she had plenty of time. She had it down to a science.

She could only hope that the artist, Maine D’Court, had come through and had enough paintings ready to show. He’d promised her that he worked fast.

Claire wasn’t sure that fast was necessarily a good thing in the art world, but it was probably like everything else. It wasn’t the speed at which something was done, it was the perseverance.

Maine D’Court had come through. He had brought three paintings in addition to those he had promised.

Maine already had the paintings inside and set up for her look at when Claire got to the gallery.

She should have been elated. Could have been elated. Would have been elated.

If she hadn’t just encountered the one man she had ever loved.

So, instead of elated, she was… edgy.

It was the only way she knew to describe the nerves tingling through her body.

She and Grayson had dated her sophomore and junior years in high school. He was one year older, so when he graduated, he had joined the Air Force with a promise to see her soon.

That had been the last time she had seen him.

The night before he left for San Antonio, Texas. She still flushed at the memory of that night.

“So, Claire, what do you think?” Maine asked.

“They’re impressive,” she said, reining her thoughts back to the present.

He preened. Just a bit. But she saw it. “I’m inclined to celebrate,” he said.

“That’s a great idea,” Claire agreed. “You should do that.” Claire picked up his contract, turned to the signature page.

“You’ll come with me,” he said.

Claire smiled in an effort to turn around the anxiety that washed over her at his words. “Oh, no,” she said, watching his expression change from friendly, excited artist to rejected man. If he pulled his paintings now, the whole fundraiser would crash and burn. There would be no mentorships. No scholarships. It would all be for naught. “I’ll go next time. After the fundraiser. Right now I’m buried in paperwork and,” she glanced at her watch. “I have to be up early for a meeting tomorrow.” She lowered her voice. “And don’t tell anyone, but alcohol gives me the worst possible headache you can imagine.”

She sent up a silent prayer of thanks when he backed off, appeased, for the moment at least. He winked, clicked his tongue, and cocked a finger at her. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

Claire held her breath as he signed the contract. “Now, I have to get this to the fundraising attorney,” she checked her watch again. “Before he leaves for the evening. We’re on a strict deadline.” She grabbed up her handbag, and, clutching the signed contract in her other hand, left him standing there in her own office.

Her heels clicked on the stairs as she raced down them and outside to her BMW sedan. She was in her car with the doors locked before she took a deep breath and pressed her hands against the steering wheel.

The paperwork could have easily waited until morning. Even Martie, her personal assistant, could have driven it over. Or they could have faxed a copy to lock in the contract.

She had just needed to get as far away from Maine D’Court as she could. Maybe tonight would be a good night to hibernate at home with some good undistracted rest and relaxation.

She sent Martie a quick text asking her to lock up. When Claire received an affirmative answer, she shoved the contract into her briefcase and headed home.

Claire parked in the garage, went inside, and greeted her silver Persian kitten. Charlie wasn’t even a year old. He’d been her gift to herself after the divorce was finalized. She picked him up, and hugging him to her, took him into the kitchen to feed. She pulled the top on a can of kitten food and stirred it into a saucer.

Laughing at Charlie’s barely audible meow, she ruffled his hair and watched him lap up the food.

She went upstairs, changed into her slim crop pants and a t-shirt. She went into her walk-in closet, keyed in the code to her wall safe, and took out a slim photo album.

She carried the photo album back downstairs, opened a bottle of Dakota Shy Cabernet Sauvignon, poured a glass, and curled up on her sofa.

Claire loved her house. She’s chosen everything from the basic design to the doorknobs. She loved her over-the-top walk-in closet with shelves and drawers. She loved her kitchen with its huge windows overlooking a wooded back yard. She loved her fireplace with the plasma TV hanging on the wall over it.

She could open her iPad and close the shades on her windows, turn on her TV, and see if anyone was at the front door. All that technology blended seamlessly into a warm cozy environment. Her home was her haven – her safe place away from everyone where she didn’t have to worry about saying the right thing or dressing a certain way.

Even when Danielle had friends over, she felt relaxed here. This was her space.

Charlie sat next to her on the floor and stared at her. She picked him up in one hand and put him on the sofa beside her. He slapped at the fringe on a throw she’d tossed across the back of the sofa, then curled into a ball next to her and fell asleep purring.

Claire sipped her wine, then taking a deep breath, opened the photo album. It had been a long time since she’d dared to open it up – probably fifteen years.

It was a photo album she’d started when she was sixteen years old. There were lots of pink hearts drawn with a felt tipped pin. On only the first page, Grayson smiled back at her.

Her heart skipped a little as she studied the picture of the two of them together. They looked so very happy with their arms wrapped around each other.

Claire had given up long ago trying to figure out what went wrong.

It had been so long – twenty years. Did it really matter anymore?

Seeing him today had brought butterflies back to her stomach. Butterflies she thought had flown years ago.

Danielle texted saying she was going out to dinner with her friends and would be home late.

Perfect. Claire had the whole evening to herself.

Claire flipped through the pages, allowing the memories to play through her mind. Some bringing a smile. Others bringing tears.

When the clock chimed seven o’clock, she closed the album and set it aside.

What were the odds that she’d run into Grayson Moore? Why today?

It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now.

And Claire Worthington kept her eyes on the future.