I don't know how long Christian and I bickered back and forth about the letters I sent him that he supposedly didn't get, and the letter I received from him that he insisted he hadn't written. When he pressed me for details of what the letter had said, my pride wouldn't allow me to elaborate. It had been too humiliating at the time and I couldn't bring myself to share it with him. Besides, I'd spent the last five years trying to forget about it. Why dredge up a painful reminder?

We'd made our way to the great room. I sat cross-legged on the couch while he paced back and forth. He’d stuffed his hands in his pockets and was staring at the floor as he walked. I couldn't help but admire the man he'd become—at least physically. I guessed him to be about six feet two inches tall with silky black hair that fell to the middle of his back. His smooth dark skin was flawless and he had very little facial hair. He had classic Native American good looks, like his father. A strong nose and a chiseled chin. And his eyes. His blue eyes, inherited from his mother, could hold a cobra captive. After catching myself staring at his tattooed muscular biceps, I gulped and tried to steer my thoughts away from his appearance.

"We both agree that my mother dissuaded you from babysitting," he said as he scratched his jaw. "And there's no doubt that my father let me take a fall for a stupid stunt I pulled that sent me to juvie for a while. We don't have any way to know if I lost my phone or my mother took it and made me think I lost it."

"But we both can agree there seems to be evidence that they didn't want our friendship, or whatever you might want to call it, to continue," I piped in. I swallowed and looked away, embarrassed that I’d hinted at the idea we had more than just a friendship. I looked back at him and was relieved that he was still pacing with his head down. "They were taking my mother's wishes to disappear very seriously. That much is obvious," I added without admitting that I knew the reason why.

He stopped walking and leveled a gaze at me. "I can believe that one of my parents might've intercepted the letters you mailed me, but I can't even imagine them writing back to you while pretending to be me. They wouldn't do that, Mimi. Especially if it was as hurtful as you're alluding."

"I got a letter that was signed by you, Christian. Who would do that? Who, other than your parents would have access to your mail?"

He didn't say anything, but stood there staring at me. Then it dawned on me.

"You still think I'm lying," I said, without breaking from his gaze.

He didn't answer at first, but I thought I saw a flash of anger in his eyes before he said, "You lied about other stuff. Stupid stuff."

I nodded in agreement. "You're right. I guess I was being tested on that little tour you gave me earlier. Now that I think about it, it was a test, wasn't it? Little nonsense questions that your private investigator could've easily dug up."

The anger I'd thought I'd seen seconds earlier was replaced with something else. It could've been a tad of admiration for guessing what he'd been up to. He gave me a slight nod.

"You know when we left Florida it was to start a new life." It wasn't a question but a fact. When he didn't reply I continued. "I didn't deliberately lie to you, Christian. I'm embarrassed to say that it's pretty much a habit I've adopted. I'm always on the defensive, waiting to be tripped up so the answers just come out of my mouth automatically."

"I would've thought I deserved the truth, Mimi. I can't say for sure, but I think I'm your oldest friend."

My heart did a somersault in my chest. He was right. My earliest childhood memories included Christian and I was immediately catapulted back to a happier time. As if in a trance, I hovered above the long-forgotten memory, and felt a warmth invade my veins.

"I'll push you on the swings, Mimi. C'mon!" Christian ran toward the swing set, his black braid swaying behind him.

I glanced at my mother, and after receiving a smiling nod of approval, I bounded happily after him.

"You have to promise not to push me too high, Christian!" I called out as I excitedly trotted behind him toward the swing set.

"I promise, Mimi," he yelled back at me.

Where had that come from? I was certain I’d buried those memories away years ago.

Shaking my head as if to clear it, I looked at Christian, my attitude softening. "You're right. I'm sorry. Do you want to start over? Ask me anything," I offered. And I made up my mind at that very moment that I would tell him as much as I could without revealing James's true identity. Even though Christian would never meet them, I would even share that my extended family lived just a couple of hours from my college. I braced myself for the barrage of questions that he would be throwing at me and said a silent prayer that I wouldn't give anything away about the real reason for my family's secretive move from Florida.

"Anything?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, Christian. Anything."

He walked to where I sat on the couch and looked down at me. Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity. This is it, Mimi, I told myself. You have to answer his questions as honestly as possible without betraying your family secret. I swallowed, and waited for the first, and what would turn out to be his only question.

"Are you in love with Lucas Paine?"