Kate exited her brownstone apartment in Boston and took in a breath of the fresh air. It was a beautiful Monday morning in October. The temperature was hovering in the low fifties, but the blue sky made it feel warmer. The sun beat down on her shoulders as she walked down the tree lined street, loving the golden orange and red leaves that danced in the breeze.

It had been a month since the day Michael had walked out of the hotel room. A month since she’d heard the sexy baritone of his voice.

She had told him to leave. It was her own fault. She just never imagined his absence would hurt so much.

Julia had called her like clockwork twice a week, although she never uttered Michael’s name. And neither did Kate. Instead, they spoke about daily details, made jokes, discussed business. Julia had told her she’d decided to put the next Maddox Gala on hold for a little while. Although she didn’t say as much, Julia was probably hoping that Kate would change her mind and host the New York event as they’d originally planned. But Kate didn’t think she could do it. She had offered Julia the services of the New York office, which was certainly up to the task, but still, Julia had hemmed and hawed.

As she rounded the corner and the cafe came into view, she saw his tall, muscular frame. It was unmistakable.

“You shaved your beard,” she teased.

Connor rushed toward her and scooped her into his arms, hugging her. “So good to see you.” He set her down and pinched her cheek like she was his kid sister. “Glad we could meet up. When I heard from Julia you were living in Boston I thought I’d give you a call. I just finished a job.”

“Hopefully it wasn’t another kidnapping case,” she joked.

“No, a basic bodyguard assignment.” He motioned for her to have a seat at the nearby table. “I went ahead and ordered you a drink,” he said, sliding a latte across the table.

“Thanks. So, how have you been?”

“Pretty good. How about you?”

She thought about how to answer his question. She wanted to ask him about Michael. She was desperate to know how he was doing, but she was too afraid to ask. Plus, she knew she would set herself up for pain. “I’m adjusting to my new life.” She rubbed her cheek. “I opened the paternity test a week ago. I was relieved to discover David is my father.” She exhaled after her admission. It was the first time that she’d said those words aloud.

“Are you talking to him yet?”

“No. I don’t think I’m ready for that. It’s a bit of a challenge to forgive him after what happened. I’ve seen my stepmom a few times, and she keeps trying to convince me to see him. But I need more time.” She cleared her throat and forced a smile to her face. “Anyways, I think I’ll be staying in Boston for a while. I’m running my company in Boston only. I gave up my position in New York and put my New York loft up for sale.”

He smoothed a hand over his clean-shaven face. “And you’re happy here?”

“I’ve been focused on putting together the Mayor’s Ball. Kind of crazy that I’m working with Erick Jensen on this whole thing, but it has helped keep me busy.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he responded with a firm voice. “I’m worried about you.”

So am I. “I just don’t know if being an event planner is all that fulfilling anymore.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll quit altogether, someday. I sort of feel . . . adrift.”

He studied her for a moment before responding. “I know the feeling. When my time was up in the military, I had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. My father wanted me to run his business, but that’s definitely not what I wanted. Thankfully my younger brother is up for the challenge once he’s out of the Marines. But me—I should’ve stayed in the military.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s honestly hard to explain what it’s like to be in the military, to be on a tour of duty and never know when or if your day is up. And to watch people die—to kill people. It’s hard for civilians to understand.” He clasped his large hands on the table. “But in the service, everyone gets it. We’ve all been through it together.” He laughed as if shaking off his heavy comments. “If being in war doesn’t screw with your head, then you must have been pretty screwed up, to begin with.”

“Is it hard for you to be in a relationship? You know, because of your time in the Marines?” She leaned forward, wondering if Michael was the only one with the issue.

He took a moment to drink his latte. “I think it is, for a lot of people,” he responded, without answering the question for himself.

Connor had a wall up almost as high as Michael, she realized. She watched as his eyes narrowed in on a blonde in a short skirt.

He averted his attention back to Kate. “Uh, hmm. Sorry.” His lips curved into a smile. “I’m not ready to settle down.”

“Well, when you think you are, consider moving to Boston. It would be nice to have you here.”

“Do you mind if I tell Michael that I saw you?”

She didn’t know how to answer.

“Kate?” Connor waved his hand in front of her face. “I take that as a no?”

* * *

Michael sat behind his desk and stared at the computer screen. The numbers were becoming blurry. He couldn’t focus. He glanced over at the time and realized that if he didn’t leave soon, he’d be late.

He hurried out of the office. It was almost four o’clock, but he only needed to walk a few blocks.

He arrived a few minutes after four and apologized to the receptionist. He was always a prompt person, and he hated being late to anything.

“He’s ready for you. You can go on in,” the receptionist said.

He nodded and headed down the long hall and to the office. He knocked on the door and waited for a response before entering.

The doctor rose from behind his desk and walked toward Michael to greet him. “Good to see you. Have a seat.” He walked back to his desk and grabbed a notepad before seating himself in front of Michael.

Michael rubbed his palms against his gray slacks and waited for the doctor to speak.

“So, this is your third week in therapy. Do you feel like you’re making any progress?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I still feel shitty.”

“Because?”

“Because I’m here—instead of with her.”

“Kate?”

Michael nodded and looked down at the floor.

“Have you made your decision about rejoining the military yet?”

He asked him this question every time he visited. And Michael’s response was always the same. “No.”

“But you want to be with Kate?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t know if you can be?”

“Yes.” Michael knew the game. He knew the series of questions he would ask. He knew his answers before he was even asked.

“Are you having the nightmares?”

“Yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. The dreams had been coming every night, but the nightmares were no longer about the day he almost died in Afghanistan.

“Tell me about it.”

He nodded, his eyes still shut. “I watch Dustin slit Kate’s throat. Powerless to stop it.”

“Why do you think she dies in your dream?”

He had answered this question before, too. “I don’t know.”

The doctor usually moved on to another question, but this time he pushed. “I want you to really think about it. You used to dream of watching a fellow Marine die in Afghanistan. His throat was slit, and you couldn’t save him. Everything you dreamt about was true. Why do you think your mind is altering the reality of what actually happened now?”

“I don’t know,” he responded, almost angry.

“You saved her life when you couldn’t save the Marine. But for some reason, I think that you’re afraid that if you love her, you’ll somehow kill her. You see yourself as the enemy.”

Michael let the words sink in.

“You should talk to her,” the doctor suggested.

“I can’t. It’s been too long. She must hate me.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his ankle over his knee.

“Do you think the nightmares will stop once you see her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want Kate or do you want to be a Marine?” He was always direct, which is what Michael needed.

“They need me. People are dying.”

“You’re only one man.”

“The military is made up of men and women. If everyone thought like that, there’d be no military.” He rose to his feet, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked to the window.

“Don’t you deserve happiness?”

“No,” he was quick to answer.

“What about Kate? Does she deserve it?”

“Of course.” He kept his eyes trained on the view outside. The room felt like it was closing in on him. He was struggling to breathe.

“What if you are her happy ending? What if you rob her of that?”

“She’ll find someone else. Someone better. She deserves better than a murderer.”

“So we’re back to that, huh?” The doctor set his notepad and pen on the coffee table in front of him and stood up. “Why do you call yourself a murderer?”

“Because by definition, that is what I am.” He turned to face the doctor, his lips twitching with irritation.

“So the military is made up of a bunch of murderers?” The doctor stood a few feet in front of him and crossed his arms.

He was taller and more muscular than Michael would have expected, and he had gray hair that was cut close to his head. Michael noticed for the first time that he had callouses on his hands.

“Am I a murderer?”

“You were in the military?” He could see it now—the edge to the man. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before.

“Navy. Ten years. Served in Vietnam. Killed more people than I can remember. I tried to keep count like it would somehow make it okay, but eventually, there were just so many.” He shook his head. “But I’m not a murderer. I followed orders. I was in a war.”

Michael bit his bottom lip, which triggered an image of Kate to flash into his mind. Beautiful and stunning Kate, biting her lip . . .

“How many men have you saved? How many Marines are alive because of you?”

Michael shrugged and looked away.

“That may be a better number to count.” The doctor joined him at the window and looked down at the street.

Michael let the words sink in, but his attention shifted to a woman exiting a limo on the street.

A stunning blonde woman. Similar age. Same height. A dead ringer for Elizabeth, for Kate’s mother—for Kate.