“You told me that was a mistake, Mark.”

“Well, I was wrong. You’re incredible, Callie, and I was so stupid not to see it before.”

Granted, I’d waited a long time to hear those words. Would’ve sold a kidney—maybe two—to have heard them at one point. Now, though…they didn’t have the same impact. They were, in fact, an overcooked noodle in the pasta salad of love.

“Listen, Mark, that’s really…uh…flattering to hear and all, but I have to ask. How much of this has to do with the three clients who left?”

“Okay, you bring up a good point,” he said quickly. “Work and…us…we’re intertwined. I think the thing I’m proudest of in my whole life is Green Mountain, and you’re a huge part of it, Callie. The way you are in life, the way you are at work, with clients, with the whole gang, it’s all the same, isn’t it?”

“I…don’t know, but I still quit,” I said, glancing at my watch. Ian was due to meet me pretty soon.

“We make a great team, we really do,” Mark persisted. “At work and…otherwise. That’s undeniable.”

“That was undeniable, Mark,” I said. “It’s not true anymore.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” he blurted. The wind rustled in the branches, and a shower of small brown and yellow leaves fluttered down like cautionary notes. “I admit that I was an idiot, Callie, but the thing is, what we had…it scared me. It was so intense—”

“Seriously?” I asked, raising a dubious eyebrow. “Because you didn’t seem scared or intense at all back then.”

“No. I was.” He gripped my hands again. “Callie, I just panicked. That’s why I hooked up with Muriel. She was so different from you—”

“Mark, stop,” I said firmly, tugging my hands free once more. “I don’t care. I’ve moved on, okay? I’m sorry.”

Mark stiffened. “I know. The vet.”

“Ian. His name is Ian.”

“Right.” Rather than discourage him, the mention of the other man seemed to strengthen Mark’s resolve. He slid to one knee in front of me.

“Oh, get up. Up you go! Right now,” I said, looking around a bit desperately. Bowie smiled and yipped. “I’m not going to marry you, for God’s sake.”

“I’m not asking,” Mark said, grinning. “I just want to see your face.”

I grimaced. “This is very uncomfortable, Mark.”

“I know. For me, too.” He leaned forward, bracing his arms on either side of me. “I just want you to think about this, Callie,” he said quietly. His face was way too close to mine, and I pulled back. “I want you to remember our time together. How it was between us. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it recently, and it was…We were two halves of a whole. We completed each other.” I snorted, but he kept going. “Great at work, great in bed—” here he cocked an eyebrow and gave that famous crooked grin “—great just talking. Do you remember, how it was when we were together?”

Blerk! Had he always been so smarmy? “We know each other, Callie,” he continued. “We’ve known each other so long. I was the first boy you kissed, remember? Give us another chance. Please, Callie. I think we’re worth it.”

I stared back at him, almost fascinated. I did remember, of course. Oh, yeah. I remembered being positive that Mark Rousseau wouldn’t have kissed me a second time in Gwen Hardy’s closet without it really meaning something. Remembered waiting for him to break up with Julie Revere, carting Freddie all over town as my prop. Remembered waiting for him to see me as more than a great coworker. Remembered those five sickening weeks when he inched a little further away each day. Remembered my desperation and frantic rationalizations as I tried harder and harder to remind him of why he had to love me.

I remembered falling apart in the DMV.

Helpless in love, that’s what I’d been.

I wasn’t helpless anymore.

Besides, he’s an asshole, Betty Boop said calmly from within my conscience, and I couldn’t have agreed more.

But Mark mistook my silence for happy nostalgia, and he leaned forward and kissed me. I didn’t move. Not because I was shocked, or thrilled, or disgusted… I sat there almost scientifically, wondering if that old melting magic would wash every smart thought away. No magic came. The smart thoughts…they stayed.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I said as I pulled back.

“Oh, bollocks,” came Fleur’s voice. “Didn’t mean to intrude. Ian was looking for you, Callie. Bit awkward, yeah, Ian?”

I lurched to my feet, practically knocking Mark over. “Ian! There you are!” My dog raced over to Ian, keening with joy. Ian didn’t move.

They were standing in the side yard of the library…obviously, they’d come from the street. Fleur was smirking. Ian looked…oh, God. He saw me kissing another man, and he thought I was cheating. Just like his ex-wife.

He looked like the deer, and this time—for the first time ever—I was the truck.

I unfroze and ran over to them. Ian looked away abruptly, toward the river. “Ian, I know this looks bad,” I began, twisting my ring. “But I can explain.”

“Seems like your little scheme worked brilliantly, Callie,” Fleur said easily. She fished a cigarette out of her purse and fumbled for her lighter.

“Ian,” I said again. With difficulty, he looked back at me. “This is not what it seems,” I whispered.

“What little scheme?” Ian asked, shifting his eyes to Fleur.

“Oh, sorry. Thought you were in on it.” She lit the death stick and took a deep drag, then exhaled, smiling at me through the smoke. “Date another man, make Mark jealous.”

Her words were a sucker punch. “That was never my plan, Fleur.” My voice cracked.

She tilted her head “No? Funny. Could’ve sworn we discussed it. At length.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “And now it’s worked. Well done, you.”

“Ian,” I said in a low voice. “I’ll explain this. It’s just…it’s not what she’s saying.”

His eyes sliced back to me. Otherwise, he didn’t move. Shit.

Fleur turned to Mark, who was approaching us, tucking in his shirt. As if I’d pulled it out in a moment of ruttishness or something, making me look guiltier by the second. “Mark, what gives?” she asked. “Have you finally come to your senses and seen the little diamond Callie is? Now that Muriel’s left you?”

That caught me off guard. “She left you, huh?” I said. “Funny, you made it seem like the other way around.” Should’ve known, not that it made any difference. “Ian, if you could—”

“So you and the boss are back together,” Fleur said. “You must be thrilled.”

“No! And I didn’t scheme anything,” I hissed. “Ian, there was no plan or scheme or anything.” Bowie barked, backing me up. Would that he could talk and bear witness. I bit my thumb. “Can we talk alone?”

He didn’t answer. Hadn’t said anything to me, in fact.

“We’ll go,” Mark said. “Callie…we’ll talk soon. Think about what I said.” Another James Dean look, this time with brow furrowed meaningfully, and then off he went, Fleur trotting at his side like a sycophantic rat terrier.

Which left me alone with Ian. A great wave of fear sloshed at my legs, making them weak and sick-feeling. “Um, do you want to sit down?” I asked, indicating the bench. “No.”

“No, of course, not there, anyway.” I took a shaky breath and looked up at him. His face had lost that slapped look and now seemed carved in stone. It was not encouraging. “Okay, Ian, here’s the thing. Mark wants to get back together with me, and I don’t want to. That’s it.” I tried to take his hands, but he pushed them into his pockets, his arms straight, fists clenched.

“You were kissing him,” he said.

“Um, well, technically, he was kissing me.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

“It wasn’t like that. I don’t want to get back with Mark. I really don’t. Please believe me. I’m sorry you saw us kissing, and I know that must bring back some bad memories—”

“Yes, Callie. It does.”

“But I wasn’t cheating! And I wouldn’t, Ian. I never would.”

He shook his head. “What about what Fleur said? Your plan to make Mark jealous.”

“I didn’t… It wasn’t… I never planned to…”

Except, of course, I had.

I took a deep breath, started to speak, then stopped.

“Tell me the truth, Callie,” Ian said, his voice low.

I bit my lip. “Well, you remember that day, right? In the DMV?” He nodded. “Well, after that, Annie and Fleur and I…we were talking and basically thought the best way for me to get over Mark would be to…find another fish to fry. Or whatever. Not a great metaphor, but…”

“And that’s why you came to my office that day? When Bowie ate the newspaper?” At the sound of his name, Bowie barked. Yes, I am here and will eat whatever you have on you!

“Um, yes.”

“So you lied about that.”

“Fibbed is a better word, I think.” At his dark look, I nodded. “Yes, I lied. As you suspected. I’m sorry.”

Ian looked at the ground. In the distance, the sounds of the regatta drifted toward us in snatches, laughter and music, a baby crying. “So you needed a distraction,” he said slowly. “To get your mind off Mark.” He lifted his eyes to me, and my heart shriveled.

“I wouldn’t put it that way, Ian,” I whispered. Tears pricked my eyes, because I knew…I just knew…this conversation was not going to end well.

“I asked you, that first morning after we…I asked you if you were over him.”

“And I am! Ian, I’m not using you to get over Mark.”

“But you are,” he said. “You just admitted that.”

I swallowed. “Well, technically, to be perfectly honest, yes, I guess it started that way. But the turkey, that day…that wasn’t… You must know I care about you, Ian! Let’s not get caught up in details here.”

“The details happen to be very important to me, Callie,” he barked, causing me to jump. “I’ve already been with a woman who had a hidden agenda. I’ve already been with a woman who wanted to be with someone else.” His voice rose. “I’ve already been someone’s second choice. Every time I turn around, there he is. Jesus, Callie, you were kissing him!”

“Ian, stop!” I blurted. “I don’t love him anymore. You’re not going to find us in bed together!”

“I didn’t expect to find you kissing him, either!” he yelled. “But I just did! And you know what, Callie? Maybe you do still love him. Maybe once the newness of—” he flapped his hands in the space between us “—of this wears off, you’ll realize that Mark is the love of your life. And you know what? I don’t want to hang around to find out I’m the runner-up.”

“Wait,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m…” My stomach twisted. Oh, shit, this was hard to say, and this was not the time to say it, but I was desperate. “I’m in love with you, Ian. Not Mark.”

“You were in love with Mark just a couple months ago.”

“This is different,” I whispered. “I promise.”

He shoved his fists back in his pockets. “How do I know? How do you know, for that matter, Callie?”

“I just know.” Oh, Christ, talk about a lame answer! “Ian,” I whispered, “please don’t do this.”

But he’d already decided. His face fell back into that distant, reserved expression I’d seen too many times before. “I think it’s best if we just end things now,” he said quietly.

“I don’t. I think that’s a horrible idea,” I squeaked, tears splashing out of my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And with that, he turned his back on me and walked away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LIFE REALLY SUCKED. You know? I had no job, my grandfather was dead, I’d finally fallen into a good love, and he dumped me.

Of course, my first instinct was to feel completely blameless. I had, in point of fact, done nothing wrong. Not one thing. Should I have kneed Mark in the groin? Would that have made Ian happy? I wasn’t really the groin-injury type, a fact I now deeply regretted. I never needed to kick a guy in the nuts, quite honestly. I’d always been able to (work, play, manipulate) deal with men before.

And as for the whole idea of scheming and planning and using Ian…I knew I hadn’t done that. There was nothing wrong with wanting to move on from a helpless, hopeless love, was there? Was it a sin to want something better?

“Not a sin,” Annie confirmed as we swilled cheap chablis the night after the stupid regatta. “Though this is why all the dating books say to give yourself a year after a breakup.”

“Well, I didn’t give it a year,” I said, wiping my eyes and throwing the tissue on the floor, where it joined its half-dozen brothers. “I never got to that chapter. And I think Ian would be honored. You know? Because he’s the healthy, stable, good man I chose over Captain Asshole.”

“Honored. You’re right.” She nodded wisely. She was spending the night, and though we had rented several Gerard Butler movies, they all sat untouched. “I guess he just doesn’t feel that…chosen. And therein lies the problem.”