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And he had a beard now…more like a scruff that gave him a rugged, almost dangerous edge. Misty gave herself a mental slap for noticing as he paused in his search and turned to her. “Misty, do you have any sugar or that fancy stuff in tiny little pink packets?”
    “Next to the toaster.”
    “Spoons?”
    “Oh, for goodness sake, Jack.” She lifted her head slightly, scowled. “Check the drawer.”
    “Found them.”
    The coffeemaker sputtered, and the rich hazelnut aroma coaxed Misty from the edge. Though the throbbing continued with a vengeance, her vision had cleared.
    Not a good thing. Jack was real…he was here, puttering around like he belonged…in her kitchen. And he smelled as good as she remembered. The faint scents of sawdust and spearmint whispered over her as, outside the bay window, thunder crashed. Rain splattered the glass with such force Misty thought it might break.
    “Take this.” Jack placed a mug of coffee in her hands. The warmth calmed and the inviting aroma soothed. “Drink.”
    She took a sip and sighed deeply. Perfect…just a hint of sweet. How had he known just the way she liked it? She hadn’t begun to drink coffee until after Allie was born—and Jack had long-since left.
    He eased into a chair across from her, his gaze holding steady while his forehead creased with worry. “Better?”
    “Slightly.”
    “I’m sorry, Misty.”
    “You should be.”
    “That’s how it’s going to go down, then?” He shifted in the chair and its legs scraped the tile she planned to mop sometime today—after the Web project and before the lawn. “We play the blame game?”
    “This isn’t a game, Jack.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “No, I don’t.” She shook her head. “Why don’t you tell me?”
    “Why don’t you stop being angry for just a minute?”
    “Angry?” Misty’s voice squeaked as resentment bubbled over. “You think I’m angry? Well, angry doesn’t even begin to put a dent in what I’m feeling. No, siree.”
    “OK, then.” Jack sighed and held up his hands, fingers splayed in a gesture of surrender. “Let’s start over.”
    “Are you crazy? I’m not starting a relationship again with you.”
    “I meant the conversation, Misty.” Jack shook his head, lifted his coffee mug, and studied her over the rim as he gulped, swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I meant, let’s start this conversation over. That’s all.”
    “Oh.” The slight stab of disappointment came as a shock to her. “I thought you meant…”
    “Us?” He leaned back in the chair, balancing on two legs.
    “Yes, us.”
    “Well, I’d say you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear as far as that goes, right?”
     
     
     
     

6
     
    “Is that her?” Jack stood and walked over to the refrigerator, taking a photo from the collage Misty had tacked together with magnets. His fingers trembled as he studied the image of the little girl, her contagious smile captured in time. The child’s long, black hair echoed his texture and Misty’s length. Her eyes mirrored his while her button nose had a gentle slope, just like Misty’s. “Is this Allie?”
    “Um…” Misty hesitated. Her fingers clenched and unclenched as if itching to snatch the photo from him. “Yes, that’s her.”
    “She’s beautiful.” Jack’s gut tumbled. “My daughter.”
    “Quit saying that.” Misty leapt from the chair, jarring the table so coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug and splattered the file folders scattered there.“ Having a child doesn’t make you a father, Jack. Being there for the child…that’s what makes a man a father.”
    “So, now you’re an expert?” He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, holding tight to the photo as a storm swept through, threatening to rip his insides apart. A huge, bushy-haired black cat wandered into the room to see what the commotion was all about. He took one look at Jack and then wandered over to Misty, plopping onto the floor and curling