I sat in my corner office looking out over the city. I was trying to work. I really was. It had been four days since I had shown up at my father’s office. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him everything. I just told him that my contract was done and that I had decided to come back to Boston and work. He didn’t believe me, I could tell. But surprisingly, he hadn’t pressed me. He suggested that I take a week or so before I started working, but I couldn’t. I needed to work. It was the only thing that held me together. I had spent hours going over spreadsheets this past week to keep my mind busy, because if I let myself think about Jack, I would lose it.

At night, I cried myself to sleep, but at the office, I managed to keep it together. I looked down and realized that I had my hand on my stomach. It was still flat, but it didn’t stop me from rubbing it every once in a while. I wondered how big the baby was—the size of a peanut or an amoeba? I decided I would ask the doctor when I saw her the next day. I’m wasn't sure when I realized I loved the baby, at some point on my way to Boston, I suspected. I knew it would be hard raising him or her on my own. But there was no doubt in my mind that I would do it.

At some point, I knew I would have to tell Jack. It would be up to him if he wanted to be a part of the baby’s life, but I wouldn’t keep that a secret from him. I just needed time. I couldn’t talk to him yet, it was too painful. I never thought I could love someone as much as I did Jack. I felt like my heart had been ripped to shreds. I’m not sure how he found Tiffany in Nashville. I couldn’t help but wonder if he went looking for her if he was unsure of us. I didn’t want to know the details. I had to face the truth. They grew up together—they were in love. He never stopped loving her. They were supposed to be together. They made sense. I was just some girl he found stranded in a diner. I didn’t belong with him. I felt a tear slip down my cheek and quickly wiped it away. I shouldn’t have let my mind go there.

I quickly turned to my laptop to get back to work. I needed to focus on the numbers. Numbers didn’t lie. They didn’t have feelings. My office phone rang, “Claire Hawkins.”

I heard my father’s voice on the line. “Claire, I need you to handle a meeting for me. Conference room B.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“Potential Broker. Just take notes and tell him you’ll get back to him.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“What’s his name?”

I heard him scramble a minute and he cleared his throat. “Dennis Owen.”

“Okay.”

I stood up and smoothed my dress and looked down at the nude heels I was wearing. I went into the bathroom connected to my office and looked in the mirror. I straightened my pearls and checked my hair that was tied up in a bun on top of my head. I pulled some mascara out of my makeup bag and quickly swiped it on and put on some lip gloss. I hadn’t planned to see anyone today outside of the office and hadn’t bothered with makeup. I looked tired, I thought to myself. There were dark circles under my eyes, but I didn’t have any time to do anything about it and I didn’t have the energy either. On the way out of my office, I grabbed my leather portfolio with a notepad in it and a pen and made my way to the conference room. It was empty when I got there. I assumed someone would bring Mr. Owen to me. I sat down and opened my notebook and wrote ‘Dennis Owen’ at the top of the page, along with the date and time.

I swallowed hard when I remembered that Jack’s father’s name was Owen. I liked that name. This guy needed to hurry because I couldn’t afford to let my mind drift. I tapped on my watch to check the time and glanced at my Blackberry to make sure I hadn’t gotten a text or email from my father. I doodled the name ‘Owen’ over and over on my notepad and fidgeted in my chair as I waited. I don’t know how long I sat there before I heard the door click. I quickly stood up and smoothed my dress and looked towards the door.

My heart dropped as soon as I saw him. He had one hand on the doorknob, the other was clasping my report. His hair was messy. He was wearing a dark olive dress shirt that pulled tightly against his chest. His dark jeans hugged his body as deliciously as they always had. His emerald eyes glared at me with intensity like I’d never seen. His jaw clenched. He looked angry. “Jack.” I barely whispered trying to take a hold of my breath. I couldn’t keep standing. I clasped onto the table and fell back down into my chair. “What are you doing here?”