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into a fuzzy ball at her feet. “Come on, Misty. Give me a break.”
    “Give me a break, Jack. Five years—almost six—of changing diapers, soothing nightmares, reading bedtime stories—” Misty tore a healthy wad of paper towels from the holder beside the sink, “— and helping with homework, to name just a few things, has made me an expert.”
    “Ouch again.” Jack rubbed his eyes, turned slightly so she couldn’t see the tears that burned. Outside the bay window, he noticed toys scattered along the overgrown lawn. The space could use a decent play set and maybe a sandbox. Did little girls like to play in sandboxes? “How many daggers do you have in that pouch you’re carrying, Misty? You can’t know how much it hurts to hear this.”
    “No, I can’t.” She sopped up the spilled coffee and lobbed the soiled towels into a trash can tucked beneath the sink. “And you can’t even begin to know how much it hurt the day you left here—just walked away without a second thought.”
    “That’s not true. I’ve thought about you every day.” His heart fractured in a way no spackle could mend. “And the only reason I didn’t think about Allie is because…well, I didn’t know about her.”
    “Yeah, right. Nice cover.” Misty grabbed her mug, marched to the coffeemaker and filled it again. “Does the lie ease your conscience?”
    “I’m not lying, Misty.” Jack turned back, his gaze capturing hers. “I’ve never lied to you. I didn’t know about Allie. Really, I didn’t.” He tugged a letter from his pocket.
    “That’s the letter I wrote you. So you did get it. I’m not hallucinating.”
    “Yeah, I got it all right…in the mail yesterday . It’s the first I heard…the first I knew.”
    “That can’t possibly be true.” Misty shook her head vigorously. “I came to see you the night before you left for California. I left you that letter. I told you about Allie, Jack, and that I wanted to work things out. I was willing to go to California with you.”
    “I know that now.”
    “I guess it didn’t matter. By that time, maybe my offer just wasn’t good enough. I guess you weren’t willing to compromise…not even a little bit.”
    “But I was, Misty. I would have.” Jack walked to the window, rested one hand on the frame as he peered into the roiling sky. “I loved you.”
    “Don’t, Jack. Don’t say that.” The sink drain gurgled as she dumped the coffee she’d just poured. Ceramic clattered when she tossed the mug against the stainless steel. “I waited for you at the Landing just like I said I would—I waited most of the night, making excuses for why you were delayed, and how apologetic you’d be for making me wait—for scaring me—when you finally showed up.”
    “I would have come.”
    “But you didn’t.”
    “How could I, when I didn’t know you wanted me to until yesterday?” He crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between them. “Look at it, Misty. Look at the letter.”
    “I don’t have to look at it. I wrote it. I remember all-too-well exactly what it says.” She shook her head. “It’s…embarrassing.”
    “There’s more.”
    “I don’t want to hear your excuses.” She shook her head once more. “No. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.”
    “Would you just stop for a minute—stop being so pigheaded and stubborn and read what’s in the envelope?” He shoved it into her hands. “Please.”
     
    ****
     
    The urgency in his voice startled her.
    I’m not lying, Misty. I’ve never lied to you.
    Misty bristled at the words, because she knew, deep in her heart, that they were true. Jack had always been brutally honest—sometimes to the point that it hurt. But if he was being honest, then this…all of it…just didn’t make sense. She’d gone to his apartment that last afternoon, left a letter with his roommate. Though Jack wasn’t there, his roommate had promised to give it to him as soon as he returned.
    “Please,