“Was I too obvious?” Caleb said to Troy when they parted ways at Troy’s place after sharing a taxi. They’d been best friends since third grade so Troy knew exactly what Caleb meant, and that Caleb was referring to Kira Bancroft.

Troy leaned over, gazing into the back seat of the cab. “Like a sledgehammer. You always had a knack for subtle,” he added with a smirk.

Caleb groaned. “She probably thinks I’m an idiot. I was so shocked to see her at Rossi’s—waiting on our table—I couldn’t stop staring at her. Man, it’s been ten years. Honestly, I’d given up ever seeing her again.”

“Subtle, bro, very smooth.” Troy wagged his head, pointing a finger. “Boss, you’ve already played all your cards. I can’t believe you gave her five hundred bucks.”

“She looked so—I don’t know. Forlorn. Melancholy.”

“That’s called major fatigue after a twelve-hour shift.”

Caleb shook his head, unconvinced. “There was something about her that felt off, wrong, like she’s had a hard life. But how would I know? I’ve heard nothing about her since graduation.” Despite watching her for the past two hours like a teenage goon, Caleb was still drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Despite the fatigue or underlying sadness, Kira Bancroft had a light inside. A goodness he couldn’t explain.

“The girls who got away,” Troy said quietly. “We all have one, don’t we?”

“If I remember Jasmine Cervantes, I know you do,” Caleb prodded.

Troy gave a quick burst of laughter. “How could I forget the prettiest girl in our class?”

“Ha. Opinions vary, buddy.” Caleb grew thoughtful. “We should have made a pact during dinner. All five of us have a girl we wanted in high school and never had a chance.”

“Guess you’re right. Never thought about it that way before.”

“Do you think high school reunions can be second chances?”

Troy stared at him and Caleb didn’t twitch or look away. He was serious.

“You got it bad, Boss.”

“What?” Caleb put on an innocent face.

“For Kira. What happened between you two? Or should I say what didn’t happen?”

Caleb thought about the necklace hiding in his wallet. That delicate piece of jewelry holding such promise, such possibilities. “Nothing happened. That’s the problem. I just hope I didn’t screw things up.”

Troy guffawed. “You’re making no sense, man. How could you screw up nothing?”

Caleb wasn’t about to answer that question. “Before I flew home tonight, I was thinking about throwing the high school reunion announcement into the trash. Seeing Kira tonight, knowing she’s still right here in Denver, I feel like I’ve been given a second chance.”

“Will you tell me the story sometime?” Troy asked. “I have a distinct feeling there’s a lot more than you’re telling me.”

Caleb shrugged. “Hey, go home. Get some sleep. See you tomorrow in the office.”

“I’m sleeping in. Just warning you.”

“Me, too. But try to get there before noon, if you can push yourself.”

“I think I can do that.”

They bid each other goodnight before going their separate ways.

Caleb’s apartment was cold and lifeless after being gone a week. Painfully empty. Maybe he should get a dog. Trouble was, he’d be kenneling the animal every other week, which wasn’t fair to the dog.

After throwing the contents of his suitcase into the dirty clothes hamper, Caleb jumped into a hot shower, but not before ratcheting up the heater. Winter was on its way in Denver that was for sure.

Turning on the television, he channel surfed for a few minutes and then thumbed through the stack of mail he’d picked up from his box. Mostly bills and fliers. What else did snail mail consist of these days?

He had a sudden urge to look up Kira’s phone number—well, her parents phone—and call her, but it was almost midnight now. He’d just come off looking crazy.

“Patience, old man,” he told himself, rummaging in the cupboard for food. He paced the floor, eating a stale Oreo cookie sans cold milk to dunk it in. The bottle of milk had gone sour, expiration date five days earlier.

Finally settling into the couch, he glanced through a week’s worth of ratty newspapers, his laptop open while he scrolled through email, world news, and the stock markets. The run of commercials ended and familiar music pumped out of his television speakers. He had inadvertently left the station tuned to Turner Classics. Casablanca was on, the final scene. Humphrey Bogart saying goodbye to Ingrid Bergman, never to see her again.

That wasn’t Caleb’s story. After ten years, Kira hovered on his horizon once more. Full of promise, full of new beginnings, full of second chances.

“You blew it Bogart, but I’m not going to,” Caleb said aloud. “I’m going to reach out and grab my chance with both hands, finally.”

But first, he had some serious confessing to do. And he could only hope and pray that Kira would forgive him.