I was pleasantly surprised at how good the meal was that Christian had prepared. I told myself I didn't want to enjoy it, but my stomach and taste buds told me differently. He obviously knew his way around a kitchen. I was torn between using my head to determine the best way to give him the slip, or sticking around to see where this unusual reunion might lead. He seemed calmer, nicer than the man who'd handcuffed me to a beam and disabled my car.

Returning to an earlier comment he’d made, I stared down at my plate and muttered, "You didn't find a hide-a-key on my car because I'm not stupid." I immediately felt his eyes on me and looked up. He was smiling. My heart did a flip-flop in my chest.

"Good. It's the first thing a car thief would look for," he told me, his eyes steady. "Do you know that's how my mother got away from my father?" he asked.

Even though I hadn't known any details of his mother's kidnapping, I did know the circumstances had been different than those of my parents. I shook my head.

I listened, fascinated, as Christian went on to share the details of his parents’ story.

"When did they know it was love?" I later asked as I stood at the sink and rinsed out my glass. My voice conveyed a dreamy quality that I couldn't disguise.

"I don't know," came his bland reply from behind me. "I guess you'll have to ask them one day."

The reality of his deception came crashing down. I spun around to face him. "I could've asked them if this ruse you planned had been the real deal!" I snapped. "Tell me again why you are under the misconception that I lied to you?" I demanded.

With his back to me, I watched him stiffen and shrug his shoulders while bending low to bag up the garbage. "Forget it. It was stupid. A misunderstanding."

"Stupid? Tell me how a stupid misunderstanding led to this?" I asked.

He stood up straight and turned around to face me. Dropping the garbage bag on the floor, he said, "It's simple. You lied. You told me that night in my room that you'd be in touch. You never called or bothered in any way. I thought there was something between us that night. I was obviously wrong. You left and never looked back. I've obviously made a big deal out of nothing."

"I didn't lie to you that night. And before we talk about that night, let's go back even further," I threw at him.

His only response was a raised eyebrow.

"Do you remember driving me home after I babysat for your sister?" I asked.

"Yeah, when you got your period in my truck," came his impassive reply.

"Thanks for bringing that up," I scoffed. "Do you know how many times I texted you after that? How many times I called your mother to see if she needed me to babysit for Daisy again?"

"I don't know if you're telling the truth about the texts, but it doesn't matter anyway. I lost my phone after I drove you home. My mom got me a new one with a new number."

I watched his expression start to change as if something jogged his memory.

"But that was almost a whole year before that going-away dinner, and has nothing to do with the promise you made that night in my room," he shot back.

"And you're accusing me of breaking that promise?" I asked, incredulously. Without giving him a chance to answer, I walked toward him and jabbed him in the chest. "I sent you letters, Christian. I went to extremes to make sure there was no possible way your parents would figure out they were from me."

He grabbed the hand that was getting ready to poke him again and leaned down until we were nose to nose. "Bullshit," was his only response.

"No, it's not bullshit," I spat and pulled my hand away. "I sent you letters, Christian!" I yelled in his face.

"I never got any letters, Mimi!" he yelled back.

"Yes, you did!" I screamed. I was thrumming with a fury so intense, I had to make sure I didn't hold my breath and pass out.

Obviously not one to back down, he got right back in my face, saying in a low, menacing voice, "There's no way you sent me any letters and even if you did, which I highly doubt, you have no way to prove it," he countered.

"Oh, I have no doubt I sent them and no doubt that you got them," I huffed. I could feel my blood pressure rising.

"And how is that?" he asked, his blue eyes blazing.

I stepped back and narrowed my eyes. With a hand on my hip, I shook my head. "I cannot believe you have the balls to deny this."

"Deny what?" he growled. "That you mailed some imaginary letters?"

"No, Christian. Deny that you got my very real letters!" I exclaimed. I was utterly amazed at his hardheadedness.

"I am denying it," he said through gritted teeth.

"I don't see how you can deny it since you wrote me back. Or did that little detail slip your mind?"