The giant estate hotel loomed in front of me as I pulled off the main roads and through the gates. How they'd managed to snag a wedding spot in this place on short notice was beyond me. I'm sure Killian had no qualms about resorting to his old ways to get what he wanted.

I'd wondered how long Rachel was going to torture him before she finally set a date for the wedding. She'd been wearing the engagement ring the day they came back to NYC.

The slightly overcast, early evening didn't do anything to take away from the sweeping, sculptured gardens that surrounded the driveway. It reminded me a lot of the time I picked Frankie up for the dance in high school. At least I'd upgraded my car somewhat since then. No knocking engine and broken door handles.

Not that it mattered. Our worlds were still too different. I may have moved up in the world since that night, but we'd never seen eye to eye about anything since our one date. Since our one kiss. I still thought about it. I probably shouldn't. Although who knows, miracles happened because the impossible had happened.

Killian was getting married tomorrow. That seemed like a sentence out of a parallel universe. Killian getting married. And to someone like Rachel. It was such a mismatch, but it worked. They worked together, and he'd never been happier.

The old song, I’ll Be by Edwin McCain, I'd set, but almost never heard, blared through the Bluetooth speakers in the car. The valet opened my door, but I grabbed the handle and slammed it shut. I fumbled for the green button on my phone. Frankie. She needed a ride. Two, maybe three hours of uninterrupted time in the car with her was more than enough reason to turn right back around.

I glanced at the time. If I broke the speed limit I could get back into the city and get her before the rehearsal dinner. Traffic would be a bitch, but I didn't mind. How often did she ask me for anything? How often did she even allow me within five feet of her for more than ten minutes? And just that quickly, I was back there. Back in that place where I was ready to try to break through the walls she'd put up over the years. Or maybe I was wrong, and she still thought I'd never be in her league. She was probably right.

I breezed back into the city, eyeing the bumper-to-bumper traffic in the opposite direction. I didn't mind one bit. The late summer sun cast the city in its ethereal, orange glow. My phone rang the minute I pulled up in front of her brownstone. Before I could open my door, her ringtone blared through the speaker. I accepted the call.

"John, are you here yet?" Her irritated voice came through the speakers. She thought I hated it when she called me John. That was part of the reason she did it and part of the reason I badgered her when she did it. I was John to her. Only her. She'd replaced the bad memories of my name from long ago.

"I'm right outside, Francesca."

"Oh, okay." She didn't even have a chance to get angry with me like she usually did. She just sounded shocked that I'd actually shown up. "Great. I'll be right out."

I checked over the passenger's side and back seat of the car, making sure there wasn't any trash hanging around. Not that there would be. I'd gotten everything I'd need stashed in the back. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants just as Frankie swung the back door open and hung her dress up on the hook opposite my suit.

I hopped out of the car, grabbed her suitcase, and put it in the trunk before she could say a word. I closed the trunk lid. She stood beside it, watching me. I glanced behind me making sure she wasn't looking at something else.

"What?" I asked, running my hands over my face. Did I have something on me?

She shook her head like she was coming out of a fog.

"Nothing." She gave me a forced smile and opened the passenger side door. I climbed in as she slid into the passenger seat looking like she'd much rather be curled up on her couch watching TV than stuck in the car with me. Her pale blonde hair was braided over her shoulder, just like she always wore it in high school. She had on a pair of shorts and a baggy Harvard t-shirt. Her tanned legs stretched on forever ending with her sneakers.

"What?" She scrunched her eyebrows. Busted. I peered over again at her legs, following the smooth soft line until I got to her ankles. Her navy socks had slid down a little. Dark angry scars were wrapped around her ankles. My stomach sank. What the hell? Those were old and they were deep.

"Nothing," I said, doing everything in my power not to let my eyes drift back over there.

How had I never noticed them before? Probably because we hadn't had more than a few terse interactions, and I wasn't usually looking at her legs. She tilted her head to the side, tucking her hair behind her ear. I snapped my eyes back out the front window. Right. Get on the road.

I pulled out into the bumper-to-bumper traffic that I knew we'd be in for a long time. As the blocks crawled by, I resisted the urge to glance over at her. Those scars looked like rope burns. The-leather-and-rope cuff I always wore slid along my wrist.

When Killian told me about her club all those years ago over drinks, I'd nearly swallowed my tongue. Francesca Archer, sex club madam? It seemed like a story from another planet. He'd given me a basic rundown of the club. Bondage, voyeurism, all sorts of different sex play. He mentioned how her monitors were almost always on the bondage and rope-play rooms and that was something that buried itself deep in my mind.

Francesca and ropes. An off-hand comment, but I began digging. Trying to figure out just what it involved, and holy shit was it unexpected. Something went from a passing interest, to fascination, to a part of me. The drawer of specialty hemp rope at the bottom of my dresser meant it bypassed interest. It was a full-on kink at this point.

The feel of rope gliding across the skin. Working my way across a woman, lacing and knotting the ropes until they showcased her body perfectly. I adjusted myself in my seat as my cock decided this would be a good time to say hello. Frankie and ropes had been something I hadn't dared to think about for a while.

But those were burns. Rope burns. I'd seen those happen with more inexperienced people in some of the classes I'd attended, but never that bad. If she was a professional and this was her thing, how had she ended up with those? My mind raced as the car inched forward. We'd moved what seemed like three blocks since we started.

I chanced another glance over at her and couldn't hold back my smile. She looked so much like she did in high school, it hurt. Her anime t-shirt, the braid, her “I'm totally ignoring you” look. It seems some things never changed. After all these years, it hadn't escaped me how much things changed, but there was one constant. How she was always on my mind. Even when I didn't want her to be. Even when I knew it would bring me nothing but trouble.

She was thoroughly engrossed in her phone, until she started rifling through her bag. She grabbed a cable out of her bag and plugged it into the USB port in the center console. The telltale buzz that meant it was charging never came.

"Damnit," she said, slamming her head against the headrest.

"What's wrong?" I said, making a break for a gap in traffic. Just a little longer and we'd be on the open road. Ha! By open road I mean bumper-to-bumper outside the city.

"I forgot my power pack back in the apartment and my phone's about to die." She stared at her phone and her bag like they'd betrayed her. Like if they had a neck she'd strangle them. I knew that look well.

"Sorry, the port died a while ago, and I've been meaning to get it fixed. I haven't had the time."

She glared at me. But I'd never been happier that I hadn't been able to get that thing fixed than I was in that moment.

"Awesome," she said, shoving her phone back into her bag. And I definitely wasn't going to tell her I had a power pack in my glove compartment.

"So about Killian and Rhys—"

"No. I get it. You've already reamed me out. Killian got his face busted open. Everyone has learned their lessons. Let's try to make this car trip as pleasant as possible." She folded her hands in her lap before drumming them on her legs. Without her phone, she was adrift.

"Okay. I promise not to bring it up for the rest of the weekend."

"Thank you." Silence filled the car as we stopped and started every few seconds. It would have been faster to walk.

"Can you believe Killian's actually getting married?" I said, trying to break the awkward silence.

"No way," she laughed. "I feel like I'm in a parallel dimension. I'd have thought you'd make it to the altar way before he did," she said, staring out the window. The sun already set, which meant I could see her reflection like she was looking in a mirror. How was it the older she got, the more beautiful she was? More confident. More comfortable in her skin. But her tone made me do a double take.

"Why do you say it like that? Like me getting married would be such a strange thing."

She turned toward me, her eyebrow arched so high she almost looked like a cartoon character.

"I wouldn’t have thought John 'too many women to ever fuck my way through them all' Grimsby would have been the first on the list to get married." My cheeks heated at her verbatim recitation of something I'd said to Killian years ago when she was in earshot. He'd been on my ass about something, and I wanted him to back off. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I hadn't known she was there. Not that it mattered much. Her opinion of me had never been that great after the dance.

"I think you'll find a lot has changed about me, Frankie."

"I highly doubt that, John." She searched through her bag and plopped it back down with a huff.

"What's wrong now?"

"I forgot to eat. I thought I'd be at the hotel by now, so I didn't eat and then I got distracted while I waited for you. I thought I had an energy bar or something in there, but I probably left it on the counter right next to my power pack."

"Netflix marathon of the new Doctor Who wannabe show?" I could picture her, lying on her couch, completely engrossed and not getting up until she made it through the whole thing.

"How did you know?"

I shrugged. I didn't need her to know that I noticed most things about her. Even now. Even after she'd made it crystal clear that we were not in the same league, let alone playing the same sport.

"There's some Goobers in the back," I said, nodding toward the backseat. Her eyes lit up as she whipped around so fast I was afraid she might get whiplash.

"They should be in my bag behind your seat." She was a woman on a mission to find the few packs of Goobers I'd stashed in there. I planned to drop them off at her room during our stay, but this was even better. She popped back up with the boxes of Goobers and some DVDs I'd tucked into my bag.

"I thought you hated these." She tore the cellophane wrapper off and ripped the box open, upending some of the chocolate-covered peanuts into her mouth.

"Tastes change. I like them now." I glanced over at her as she devoured them. She leaned her head against the headrest and moaned. And now I remembered why I'd kept my distance so much over the past ten years. Even with everything that went down between us, even once I knew she had no interest in me anymore, hated me even. I couldn't stop myself from remembering that night, and how hard she got me with only a kiss.

Being in her presence was blissful torture, so painful in its pleasure that I didn't know whether I should run the other way or wrap my fist around that braid and give as good as I got. I bit back a groan of my own as she savored the candy. That wasn't a sound I'd heard from her in a long time. Way too long.

"Did you want some?" she asked, shaking the nearly empty box at me, her cheeks full of peanuts and chocolate.

"No, I'm okay. You enjoy them." I barely finished that sentence when she threw back the last couple stragglers. She smiled over at me, bouncing in her seat. Looks like the hangry feelings were gone.

"Had I known all it would take for me to get a smile out of you was some Goobers, I'd have been sending those to you for years," I said, keeping my eyes locked on the road.

"I'm sure. How can you be upset when you have this crunchy chocolate in your mouth?" She ripped into another box and hummed to herself.

"No idea," I said, peering over at her. She was mesmerizing, so open and relaxed. So different than she usually was around me. I knew turning around was a good idea. Best one I'd had all year.

"Oh," she said, glancing down at her lap. She waved the DVDs at me. "Since when are you a sci-fi fan?"

"Since a certain someone made a very impassioned speech about the benefits of looking to the stars in aspirational sci-fi TV back when I was in high school."

"You've been watching this since then?" She eyed me skeptically. I'd been watching and reading everything she'd ever mentioned a passing interest in, waiting for my chance to finally talk to her about any of it. And turned out that I actually enjoyed it.

"I have." There were so many things I'd wanted to talk to her about. Theories I had about shows and books, but it was never the time. Killian and I talked at our weekly basketball games, but he was not the person to discuss the real origins of The Doctor.

A fifteen-minute quiz later, she was finally satisfied that I wasn't just screwing with her and had in fact watched and enjoyed a lot of the same shows she did over the years.

"Wow, you're full of surprises today, John."

"I've always been full of surprises. Have you written your speech yet?" Her bouncing abruptly stopped.

"I'm not giving a speech." Her voice pitched up at least three octaves.

"You are co-best man, aren't you? I'm pretty sure you're expected to give a speech." She blanched in her seat, freezing mid-chew.