I robotically put items in my basket as I went through my shopping list. I hadn’t done any kind of grocery shopping in almost a week, and I was out of nearly everything. Life had become mediocre in a way, and I didn’t know how to shake the feeling. All I wanted was to be happy, yet it seemed the happier I attempted to be, the harder it was to make that happen.

I had confided in Maddy that I was having a difficult time dealing with this, and she did her best to be there for me, but she also insisted that I find ways to move on. Though I knew she was absolutely right about Kyle, I found the direction to be nearly impossible to achieve.

How was I supposed to move on from someone that had matched me so perfectly?

How was I supposed to just walk away, when all I could think about was the time we’d spent on the dance floor, or the moments we’d spent together in private?

I knew there had to be more to the connection than just what I felt on my side, and I desperately wanted to prove that feeling right. But the fact that he had left me money in exchange for the night I’d spent with him continued to haunt me. It was clear that he thought I was nothing more than a prostitute who viewed modeling as a part-time job.

Why would he want to hear from me again? Surely, if I did contact him, he would think of me as some sort of a stalker who was just trying to get more of his money. I was sure that he had to deal with plenty of those kinds of women as it was—especially if he so casually threw so much money around for an escort for one night.

Yet, in spite of all my negative feelings about the situation, I couldn’t help but make excuses for him in my mind. Of course he would use escorts. Men had needs, and if there was no one in his life to fulfill them, then he was certain to turn to such events in an attempt to meet those needs.

And who could blame him? Though I could never imagine being in that kind of lifestyle myself, I had to admit, I wasn’t in any place to judge. At least, that’s what I told myself as I continued to browse the shelves of the grocery store.

My rational mind told me that I should be realistic about life, and if I wanted to quit being single, then I ought to get out there and go on some proper dates. I would be sure to find someone who would be interested in dating me, and I was sure we could be very happy together.

I didn’t need some playboy billionaire to fill the relationship void in my life. But needs and wants were two different things, and the war between my head and heart continued to rage on.

I grabbed the few remaining things I needed and put them in my basket before heading for the checkout. Though I was only the second person in line, my heart sank when I saw the older woman in front of me counting out all her coupons. Normally, it didn’t bother me when the people in front of me took a long time to complete their purchases, but I was feeling agitated and ready to get home.

The cashier was doing her best to keep the woman moving along, and she threw me an apologetic look. I smiled and acted as though I didn’t even notice the woman in front of me taking her time as much as she was, then turned my attention to the magazines that lined the rack.

Something caught my eye as soon as I began scanning the covers. Kyle Cunningham’s name was written in bold print across the top of one, and my heart skipped a beat. Though the name hadn’t been far from my mind since the day I’d met the man, seeing it in print right there in front of me was enough to give me butterflies in my stomach.

Those butterflies quickly turned into a knot, however, when I read both the headline across the top of the page and then skimmed the article itself. There was a photograph of him with another woman—and I knew it had to be recent. He’d mentioned that he was going out of town for work, and would first be in New York, then overseas, and this photo was clearly taken somewhere in New York.

The image, clearly taken by paparazzi, showed Kyle with a blond woman pressed against the doorframe of an exclusive, downtown restaurant. It was difficult to see clearly what was going on, but it was more than evident that they were lip-locked, and I could only imagine what else was happening.

I knew I shouldn’t read the article as I picked it up off the shelf, but the woman in front of me was still getting through her coupons, and the checker wasn’t doing much to make her go any faster. There was absolutely no way I could sit there and see such a thing without having to also read it.

The article—written like a true tabloid—was, of course, filled with all kinds of gossip and speculation, with very few facts to back it up.

It didn’t say anything based on actual evidence besides what could be seen in the photo, and I tried to find some solace in that. However, seeing Kyle with another woman on the front of the magazine made me feel a bit sick, and there was no way I would be able to get that out of my mind. To make matters worse, there was a secondary picture in the article inside, showing much the same thing.

Sure, I considered that the same photographer had taken multiple shots and had tried to pass it off as multiple encounters. I had heard of paparazzi doing such things in the past, and I desperately wanted to believe that that was what had happened here.

However, they were dressed differently in the second photo, and I knew Kyle wouldn’t pull such a stunt for publicity. He had enough going on in his life; he didn’t need to add to the drama to get some attention in the media.

I felt like a knife had been plunged into my stomach and pulled out again, just to be thrust back into place once more. I didn’t know why, but I genuinely thought that he was out there somewhere, keeping himself for me, for some reunion he would have with me when he got back to L.A.

Somehow, he would learn the truth of my lingering feelings and come find me, declare his undying love, and he and I would drive off into the sunset to live happily ever after.

I knew it was nothing more than my own wishful thinking, but I had been believing such things long enough that I had thought, somehow, that they would come true. Now, seeing Kyle with his mouth pressed against another woman’s, I felt that he was completely and forever gone—along with any shot of happiness that I’d hoped to have.

The air flooded out of my lungs, and I felt as though I couldn’t breathe.

I gasped, grasping the basket in my hands and doing my best to appear as though nothing were wrong. The cashier glanced over at me once more, but I forced a smile and acted as though nothing was amiss. The last thing I wanted was for some stranger to see me so upset over a man in the tabloids. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to admit to anyone my connection with this man any longer, as I certainly would appear to be just one more notch in his bedpost rather than anything that was truly meaningful.

At long last, the woman in front of me finished counting out the money and her coupons and handed the entire stack to the cashier. I tapped my foot impatiently as the cashier counted it out and marked the coupons, then finished bagging the rest of the woman’s groceries.

I felt like I was outside of myself as I stepped forward and unloaded my basket onto the belt. The cashier did her best to make small talk with me as I did so, but my mind was on other things. I didn’t want to discuss the weather or the things I was buying, and I certainly didn’t want to discuss what I had just seen on the cover of that magazine.

But there was something that was now eating away at me. I couldn’t just walk away from him like that.

I hadn’t ever experienced a connection with another human being like I had that one solitary night, and I genuinely felt that it had to be some kind of a sign that we were meant to be more than just a fling in each other’s lives.

Sure, we could walk away and tell ourselves that it was for the best—that we’d never have enough in common to really be there for each other. We could tell ourselves that there really was no way for it to work out, and to not even try, for fear of wasting each other’s time.

I had a list a mile long in the back of my mind as to why I ought not to try to pursue anything—including the embarrassment that he thought I was an escort. But seeing him with another girl on the cover of that magazine unleashed something in me, and I knew that if I didn’t at least try, I was going to spend the rest of my life wishing and wondering what would have happened if I had.

I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that to myself, and I certainly couldn’t do it to him.

I quickly paid for my groceries, once again doing my best to be happy and friendly with the cashier, though I really didn’t want to be standing in line any longer than I had to. When she finally gave me my change and receipt, I bolted from the store as quickly as I could.

If there was ever going to be a chance for me, then I was going to have to act on it as soon as possible.

I grabbed my phone from my purse as I walked, punched in my sister’s number, and held it to my ear. I tossed the groceries in the back seat of my car, and sighed with relief when she answered her phone.

“Ems? What is it?” she asked, sounding almost annoyed.

“Maddy, listen, I can’t get Kyle out of my head,” I began. I could hear by her breathing on the other end of the line that she wasn’t impressed with the conversation already, but I couldn’t give up. “I need to be with him. Or, at least, I need to try. You know I never do anything like this, Sis—and I am surprised at myself that I am going to try it, too. But I don’t know how or what to do. Help me, Maddy.”

I knew my voice cracked, though I was doing my best to keep it steady. I could tell by Maddy’s pause on the other end of the line that she wasn’t certain how to respond. Her advice had been for me to forget about him and move on with my life, but I simply could not do that; try as I might, Kyle was the first thing I thought about when I woke in the morning, and the last thing I thought about when I fell asleep at night.

I couldn’t contain how he made me feel. Yes, I was hurt at what I had seen on the cover of that tabloid, but I wasn’t going to let that be the end of things. I was going to find a way to get back in touch with Kyle, and I was going to tell him how I really felt.

All I could give him was the truth, and I was determined to do so—even if it was the last thing I ever said to him.