I sat up quickly, unsure what he meant. "Why?"

"We need to have some of this popcorn. Three pans of Jiffy Pop popcorn are here waiting for us to dig in."

He placed the bowl on the coffee table in the center of the sofa and walked back to begin the movie as I took a handful of popcorn. The familiar taste of that buttery and salty snack was delicious, even after our perfectly prepared steak dinner.

Popping another kernel in my mouth, I looked back at him. "I haven't had Jiffy Pop in years! I wouldn't think you'd be a Jiffy Pop guy."

He shook his head. "I'm not. I'd never had it before you asked for it one night when we watched one of your chick flicks."

I twisted my face into a look of fake disgust at his cheap shot at my favorite type of movie. "So when did you run out to get some Jiffy Pop in the last twenty minutes?"

He sat down beside me as the movie began. "I didn't. We have it here all the time since you told me you liked it."

"Oh. Well, that's good to know. You know, just in case I decide I want popcorn at two in the morning."

Tristan's casual statement rocked me. I tried to hide how much it meant to me behind my joking, but I was truly touched by his attentiveness.

"So are you ready for some Iron Man 2?"

"And this is what you call haggling? I'm not getting a chick flick vibe here," I teased.

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Putting his arm around me, he pulled me close and grinned. "Yes and no. It's not a chick flick, but it's got great cars and there's a girl."

"Please tell me you at least believe I like this movie."

As the film began and he dimmed the lights, he softly kissed my lips. "You do. Trust me."

I ended up loving the movie, and by the time we fell asleep in each other's arms right there in the media room, I was almost convinced that, in the end, my heart would have the final say instead of my head.

The winter sun warmed my room as it woke me the next morning. I rolled over and focused on the clock. 8:05. Looking around, I saw I was in my bedroom tucked under the covers. I vaguely remembered Tristan carrying me there and putting me to bed after the movie.

As I slowly came back to life, I saw a sheet of white paper on the pillow next to me. As was his habit, Tristan had left me his own version of a good morning kiss. No envelope this time. Just a sheet of stationery.

Dear Nina,

Thank you for the movie date. I'm happy you enjoyed it. I'll be busy all day, but tonight I thought we'd visit one of our favorite restaurants. I'll pick you up at six sharp.

Love,

Tristan

My eyes slid over the words, noting each stroke of his handwriting. I'd grown to love these notes from him, even feeling disappointed when he didn't leave one. As I reread his letter, I wondered what restaurant he meant. I guessed I'd see at six.

After a quick shower, I dressed in a cute navy blue sweater dress and knee-high boots and headed to the kitchen for some much needed coffee. As I sipped the French Vanilla roast blend, I thought about the day ahead of me, nervous about what I'd find out.

"Miss, is there anything you need?"

I looked around and saw Rogers standing in the doorway. His expression was kind, as it had been the day I arrived at this house, but he watched me like a hawk, his dark eyes following every move I made. With his slicked back steel grey hair and long face, he reminded me of a maître d' at one of those exclusive restaurants.

Lifting my mug of coffee, I smiled and shook my head. "Got everything I need. Thanks. I'll pick something up to eat in the city when I go shopping."

As soon as I said the words, I felt guilty, as if going to visit someone from my past was a bad thing. Lying had never been something I was good at. I knew Tristan's butler saw my guilt too. Something in the way his eyes grew wider for just a moment told me he didn't believe me.

He stood silently looking at me, and every second that went by I grew more uncomfortable. I began to fidget and my eyes darted around the room to avoid his stare. Finally, I croaked out, "Well, guess it's time to head out. Have a good one."

Rogers nodded slowly and moved aside to allow me to pass, but I felt his eyes on me the whole time. I couldn't tell if it was my own guilty conscience or his silent judging me about something else, but I felt sick all of a sudden.

"Jensen, I'm meeting Jordan to shop, so feel free to take a break. Get some lunch," I chirped out to Tristan's driver.

He lowered his slightly graying head and smiled. I didn't get any sense that he suspected me of anything as Rogers seemed to have, so I happily marched into Macy's and waited for what seemed like long enough before I ducked out the nearest exit.

Out to Cal's office four blocks away.

I raced up the street, walking as fast as I could in my boots, among the throngs of people headed out on their day's business. As I passed the men and women on their way to wherever they were going, I wondered if any of them was like me—going to talk to a ghost from her past.

Cal's office was on the fifteenth floor of a typical skyscraper in Manhattan. I stepped inside the building and looked for the elevator, eager to speak to him and hopefully find out what about me had made it so easy for him to turn his back on my love. I wasn't sure I wanted to know, to be honest, but I was sure I needed to.

The elevator stopped on his floor, and I stepped out into a greeting area for the firm he worked for as an actuary. I'd found out he worked at Peak International with just a few minutes of online searching, and as I stood behind a gentleman in an overcoat waiting to speak to the receptionist, I began to doubt my initial idea of meeting with Cal.

The reception area was modest, with older chairs and a carpet that reminded me of the cream and burgundy print one my grandmother had in her living room when I was a child. The walls were off white, but I couldn't decide if they'd been painted that shade or aged to that color.

"May I help you?" the attractive Asian woman behind the desk asked.

Torn from my thoughts, I smiled and said, "Yes. I'm hoping to see Cal Johnson. Is he in?"

"Who may I say is here to see him?"

I took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. "Nina Edwards."

The receptionist nodded. "If you'll take a seat, I'll buzz him, miss."

I sat on one of the upholstered waiting area chairs and smoothed my dress over my thighs in an effort to calm myself and dry my hands drenched with nervous sweat. A hundred recriminations ran through my mind, making me want to bolt out the door, but I remained planted in the chair and tried to focus on the possibility of what Cal could tell me about what happened between us. An elderly couple seated next to me whispered to each other about life insurance as I worked to stay relaxed.

"Nina?"

I looked up at the sound of a man's voice and saw Cal standing at the receptionist's desk. He looked like I remembered—light brown hair, blue eyes that hadn't faded a bit, and an athlete's body visible even under his white shirt and brown dress pants.

"Cal," I said with nervous enthusiasm. "Do you have a few minutes? I was hoping we could talk."

Extending his arm toward me, he smiled and nodded. "Sure. Come with me. We'll talk in my office."

Cal led me to his office halfway down the hallway. A small room, it had a single window that let in some light but was overall quite dim. His glass and metal desk took up a majority of the space, but there was room enough for one chair for me to sit in.

"Excuse my office. I generally don't get visitors. Take a seat and tell me what you've been up to."

His voice telegraphed loud and clear that he was uncomfortable, which only served to make me more uneasy than I'd been just minutes before out in the waiting area. Taking a deep breath, I said, "I wanted to talk about us."

"Us? Uh, what about us?"

My hands fidgeted in my lap, and I planted my feet on the floor to stop my legs from shaking. "Cal, I was in a car accident a few weeks ago. I can't remember anything from right before my father died four years ago. I know we're not together anymore, but I was hoping you could tell me what happened to break us up."

A look of discomfort settled into his features. "Oh, I don't know, Nina. That was a long time ago."

"It's important to me, Cal. Anything you can tell me would help."

He seemed to study me for a moment and then a slow smile spread across his face, reminding me of that person I'd dated all those years ago. "I think it's about time I apologized, Nina. I was a real ass. To be honest, if it weren't for the fact that you can't remember anything, you'd probably never speak to me again, and I'd deserve it."

"What happened to us? I remember us being happy. I mean, I know we weren't ready to make it forever, but I thought we were happy."

Cal shifted in his office chair. "We were young. I was probably more immature than most guys at that age. I didn't...uh...I didn't realize what I had."

I didn't know what to say to that. Jordan had made him sound like the worst of all men, but the man who sat across the desk from me seemed to regret how we'd ended. If anything, he looked sad.

"I guess I just needed to know it wasn't me, Cal."

Shaking his head, he knitted his brows and frowned. "No. I don't want you to think that. It wasn't you. It was me."

"Oh, the old It's-not-you-it's-me thing," I joked.

He reached over and touched my hand resting on the edge of his desk. His eyes told me he didn't think this was a joking matter. "I hate to think that before your accident you thought it was because of anything you did that we broke up."




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