I love him. I’ll always love him and I realize I’d rather be alone than with someone who’s not him. No matter what Trevor says, no matter who he’s with, no one else will do. My heart is so raw and unguarded at that moment, the truth is so unbearably stark, that my knees buckle, and I have to sit down on the curb.

Trevor bends down to listen to Mary, then looks up. His eyes find mine. He gestures to Mary, and her hand lifts up in a wave. Then she’s loaded into the ambulance, and Paul climbs in with her. Jake gets in the driver’s seat, and a second later, the lights are flashing, the siren is blipping and off they go.

Trevor comes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you all right, Chastity?” he says, his voice scraping my swollen heart. He takes my hand and puts his fingers on my wrist, checking my pulse.

“I’m fine,” I say, not looking at him. I’m still shaking. Trevor peers into my face, his beautiful eyes worried. “I’m not going to faint,” I assure him, glancing at those chocolate pools for just a second. I manage a smile, and he squeezes my hand.

“You did it, Chas,” he smiles. “You looked like a true O’Neill out there.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, my chest tight.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, letting go of my hand.

“Yes,” I say in a more normal voice. “It was just a little…overwhelming.”

He nods, then glances at the engine. Santo is talking to a little kid, her eyes starry in that classic “I love firefighters” look. Helen climbs into the engine. Trevor looks back at me. “That’s a beautiful ring you’ve got there,” he says quietly.

Despite my thudding heart, I keep my voice light. “Thanks. Ryan has great taste.”

“In more than just rings.” His gaze drops to the pavement. “I should go.”

“Okay,” I say numbly. “Thank you, Trevor.”

The light catches the reflective letters on the back of his gear as he walks away. His hair ruffles in the breeze off the river, but the rest of him looks heavy and tired. Santo climbs into the driver’s seat, gives the horn a little blast and waves at me. I wave back and watch them leave.

The police are still milling around, talking to the driver of the second car. They ask me a few questions. A tow truck comes. When I’m finally allowed to go, I call the office and tell Pen I won’t be back today. Then I go home, change into shorts and a tank top to row in. While I’m at it, I slide my engagement ring off my finger and put it carefully in my jewelry box.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

ROWING IS A GREAT WAY to empty the mind. There’s nothing but the swish of my oars and the rippling from the bow as I cut upriver. Feather and square, catch and drive, feather and square. The breeze dries the sweat on my back, the sun beats hot on my legs. I can hear the laughter of kids from the park. A golden retriever catches a Frisbee. Then I’m past the park and there are no people to look at anymore, just the trees and the Adirondacks rising all around me, green and majestic, as solid as a castle wall.

Trevor’s words echo in my head. You did it, Chas. You looked like a true O’Neill out there.

He’s right. I helped. I didn’t save someone’s life or anything, didn’t push them from harm’s way, didn’t run into a burning building, but I helped someone in a time of need. Funny, after all these years of wanting so much to join the club, of wondering what it would be like to be the one who had the knowledge or the skill or the guts, the feeling is oddly hollow. Sure, I’m glad I was there for Mary, but as far as my own ego and self-image go, well, who really cares?

When I get home, Buttercup is lying as if dead on the lawn.

“Come here, girl,” I call. She raises her massive head and obeys, lumbering over to me, tail whipping, then flops at my feet. I stroke her ears and plant a kiss on her bony head. “You like it being just us girls, don’t you, honey?” I ask. Her tail whips back and forth. “Me, too.”

That night, around eight o’clock, Matt and Angela are cuddled up on the couch watching The Fellowship of the Ring. I come downstairs, freshly showered, and watch as Arwen summons the river spirits to sweep away the Ring Wraiths and saves little Frodo’s life.

“She rocks,” I murmur.

“You said it, sister,” Angela agrees.

“You going out, Chas?” Matt asks, glancing back at me.

“Yup. I’m going over to Ryan’s.” I pause a casual beat or two. “Hey, do you know if Trev is working tonight?”

“I don’t think so. He was on today,” Matt says, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Yeah, right. I just didn’t know if there was overtime or whatever, since Hoser’s still…” Too much, Chastity. “Okay, guys. See you around.”

“Bye, Chastity,” Angela calls, smiling. Matt looks at her and touches her hair with smitten adoration. She blushes and returns his gaze with equal sappiness. I give them five minutes before they’re unclothed and going at it like ferrets.

“Young love,” I sigh. They don’t even hear me.

I drive to Trevor’s so that I won’t have time to chicken out. “It’s Chastity,” I say, when he answers his buzzer. “Got a sec?”

“Sure.” He buzzes me in.

I leap up the stairs. When I burst through the hallway door, Trevor’s waiting in the doorway for me, unbearably appealing in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. The smell of garlic wafts out of his apartment. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I say, feeling my face grow hot, and not because I just ran up four flights. He looks a little nervous, and hell, who can blame him? “I’m not here to maul you,” I blurt.

He gives a little laugh, then steps into the hallway and closes the door behind him. “What’s up, Chastity?”

“Here,” I answer, thrusting a piece of paper at him. “It’s just easier like this.”

It’s a note. I had to write one because I didn’t think I could say all I needed to without crying. Trevor takes it carefully. “Read it,” I order.

His eyebrow raises questioningly, but he unfolds the paper and reads silently. I already have it memorized. The dang thing took me five drafts.

Dear Trevor,

I want to apologize for coming over that night a couple of weeks ago. I was upset and emotional, and throwing myself at you the way I did was ill-advised at best and breathtakingly stupid at worst. I said things that I deeply regret now. Trev, you will always, always be my friend and part of my family. You have a special place in my heart and you always will. I’m sorry I put you on the spot the way I did. I hope you’ll forgive me.

—Chastity

He reads it a couple of times before looking up at me again, his eyes dark and serious. “Chastity…”

At that moment, Trevor’s door opens and a blond head sticks out. “Hey, Chastity!”

“Hi, Hayden,” I murmur. I’m not really surprised.

“What are you guys doing in the hall? Come on in!” Her perfect smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m actually on my way out,” I say, glancing at Trevor. “I just had to, um, drop something off.”

“Oh,” she says, her fake smile dropping a notch. “Well, take care! Trev, honey, I think those veggies are just about to burn, and you know how I am in the kitchen.” She doesn’t move from the doorway.

“Okay, well, I should be on my way,” I say, taking a step down the hall. “Trev, you…I guess that’s it. Take care. Enjoy your dinner.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Chastity,” he says. He looks back at my note, folds it carefully and puts it in his jeans pocket.

“Hon? The squash?” Perfect Hayden gives Trevor’s arm a tug.

I’m down the hall and into the stairwell in record time. About halfway down the stairs, I stop and sit. I still have a lot to do tonight, and I need a clear head.

“Chastity?”

My head jerks up. “Hayden.”

She glides down the stairs and stands above me. Well. I can’t have that, so I get up and tower over her. Sometimes being a quarter inch shy of six feet has its benefits, and this moment is definitely one of them.

To her credit, Hayden is not cowed. She puts her manicured hands on her h*ps and stares at me. “It’s time to let him go, Chastity.”

Ouch. “Trevor?”

“Of course, Trevor. Stop guilt-tripping him all the time.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You drifting in and out of his life, reminding him of the one time you were together, way back in college.” I see he told her about that. Crap. “You’re still mooning after him, and it’s really getting pathetic.”

Two times, Hayden. We were together two times. Guess he didn’t tell you about time numero dos. Aloud, I don’t say anything, just look down upon Hayden (literally and figuratively).

“Well?” she asks, swishing her long blond hair back over her shoulder.

“I’m not guilt-tripping anyone, Hayden. Trevor and I are connected, whether you like it or not.” I raise an eyebrow.

“He loves me, you know.”

“Sure.”

“We’re probably going to get married.”

“Sure.”

“So just back off.”

“Sure.”

It’s an old O’Neill sibling trick—to incite the most rage, simply agree endlessly. It works yet again.

Hayden’s face grows blotchy, but her chin goes up. “If he really wanted you,” she hisses, “don’t you think he would have done something about it by now? Do you think he’d be with me? Where’s your pride, Chastity?”

With that, she spins on her tiny little heel and flounces back up the stairs, back to Trevor.

WHEN I GET TO RYAN’S PLACE, he’s watching CNN. “Chastity! We didn’t have plans, did we?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “Ryan…I need to tell you something.”

He clicks off his plasma screen TV, Anderson Cooper’s face disappearing in a blink. He leans in to kiss me, then stops. “What is it, honey?” he asks, his voice gentle.

I can’t answer. My throat hurts and my mouth is dry and tears spurt into my eyes.

Ryan studies my face. “I see,” he murmurs.

My tears spill over. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He leads me to the couch and passes me a box of tissues. The scene is so reminiscent of the night at Trevor’s, but I’m in no mood for irony. “You’re breaking it off?” he asks.

My ragged inhale answers for me.

Ryan sits next to me, sighing, then scrubs his hand through his McDreamy hair. “Well, what the hell happened?”

“Nothing, not anything in particular. Ryan, I think you’re a wonderful man,” I blubber. “You have so many nice qualities. And I do care about you. You’re very thoughtful and—”

“Please, Chastity,” he says dryly. “I don’t need you to bolster my ego.”

“Okay. Sorry,” I say, my face scrunching with tears. I dig in my pocket and hand him back the ring. He looks at it, frowning.

“I thought things were going so well,” he says. He looks irked, and confused.

“They were. Nothing went wrong, nothing really happened, Ryan, it’s just…” My voice trails off. What am I supposed to say here? There’s no good answer.

“It’s Trevor, isn’t it?” Ryan asks.

I bow my head. Harvard/Yale taught the man more than how to cut into people, I guess. “Yes,” I whisper.

Ryan swallows. “I hope he…I hope he’s good to you,” he says magnanimously. He gives his head a little shake.

“We’re not together,” I say, fiddling with the hem of my shorts.

Ryan’s gaze snaps back to me. “Then why are you breaking up with me?”

I swallow. “Because, Ryan, I think you deserve someone who loves you with her whole heart.”

“Well, that’s a noble sentiment, if a bit sappy,” he replies. “Are you sure, Chastity? I think we’re really well-suited for each other.”

I shift on the couch to face him more directly. “Ryan,” I say softly, “I’m in love with another man. I care about you, and I like spending time with you…but not like…It’s just not enough.”

“It’s enough for me,” he says softly, and I can see that it’s true.

“Not for me,” I whisper, the tears dripping off my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

He pauses. “I’ll miss you, Chastity. You’re a lot of fun.” For a minute, I think he might get mushy, but no. “Well. Good luck.”

“Same to you,” I say, and with that, my engagement is officially over and done with.

What next, I have no idea.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

WORK IS INCREDIBLY BUSY the next day, mercifully, so I don’t have time to think about Ryan or Trevor or Perfect Hayden. Instead, I’m immersed in editing, assigning stories, talking to Alan about various and sundry issues, running things by Pen. Lucia gives me her piece for the month—seventeen column inches on making a wreath for your front door. “Looks fantastic, Lu,” I say, flying past her in order to avoid discussing it. Suddenly, I lurch to a stop and take a closer look at her.

“Lucia,” I ask hesitantly, “how are you doing about Teddy Bear and all that?”

“Fine!” she snaps. “I’m fine, okay?”