HE DAY OF NOAH’S burial was cold and gray. We gathered at the funeral home in the morning. There would be no church service, as per Noah’s orders…just two hours for a wake, then on to the cemetery.

In an oddly beautiful tribute, the River Rats had asked my mom if they could bring in one of Noah’s kayaks, which they set up behind the casket in the Serenity Room. The boat was one of Noah’s most beautiful designs…a long, sleek vessel, the red cedar inlaid with white oak. As it always had, the dichotomy of my grandfather struck me…the rough-talking old man with callused hands who could produce such a thing of lightness and grace. Quite a legacy he left behind.

It was strange, all of us here in the funeral home—our home—all of us together, this time as mourners. I wished Noah could’ve seen Mom and Dad together again. Maybe he knew now. Freddie looked somber and mature in his suit, standing next to Bronte, slipping Josephine butter rum Life Savers and telling the girls jokes when they got too weepy. Mom let Louis run the show, and Dad, handsome as ever, greeted the people who paid homage to his father.

Jody was in the receiving line, too. I’d gone to see her the day after Noah died and broke the news, then asked her to stand with us. “I’d like that,” she’d said in a small voice. Then she gripped my hand with surprising strength. “Thank you, Callie.”

“Well. Anyone who can do a full split and put up with my grandfather deserves some recognition,” I murmured.

“He thought the world of you,” she said.

“Right back at you,” I said, and then the two of us had had a good cry.

Ian was here, too, standing in the back of the room like a mastiff…quiet and calm and protective. He brought me a glass of water, fished a handkerchief out of his pocket when I got a little tearful.

“Who even carries these anymore?” I asked, wiping my eyes.

“I stocked up after I met you,” he said, looking down at me. He gave my hand a squeeze, then returned to his post in the back of the room, bending slightly as Elmira Butkes asked him a question about that Methuselah of cats, Mr. Fluffers. All the hip-hop yoga ladies had come, as well as the River Rats, not to mention at least a dozen people who’d bought their boats from Noah’s Arks.

“I’m so sorry, hon,” said Annie, Jack and Seamus in tow. She was teary-eyed, too. “You doing okay?”

“Doing okay,” I confirmed.

She wiped her eyes. “Okay. I’m around. I’m on call for you. Will drop everything at a moment’s notice. We can get drunk, eat cake batter, curse, whatever you need.”

I smiled damply. “I know. Thanks, Annie.”

“Sorry for your loss, Callie,” Jack said, giving me a hug.

“The least you can do is cop a feel, Jack,” I said, hugging him back.

“Sentimental fools, both you girls,” he said, winking. They moved on to my parents.

“I’m very sorry, Callie,” came a cool voice. Muriel.

“Oh, hi, Muriel,” I said. “I didn’t know you were back from California.”

“I got back yesterday,” she said, scanning my outfit. I’d worn a sunshiny yellow dress for Noah. Red peep-toe pumps that were killing my feet but an homage to his life force. Such are the musings of a shoe fetishist.

“Well, thank you for coming.” I looked around for the rest of the Green Mountain gang, all of whom had called me since Noah’s death.

“They’re coming later,” Muriel said, answering my unspoken question. “I, uh, had an errand and figured I’d stop by now.” She tipped her head. “Well. Sorry again.”

It was clear she was itchy, and I couldn’t blame her, here in the lair of my family and friends. “Thanks for coming, Muriel. That was very nice of you.”

“You’re welcome. I…I’ll see you around,” she said.

“You bet,” I said. I wondered if Mark had told her I was quitting, but then Dr. Kumar gave me a big hug, and thoughts of Muriel slipped away.

“My dear girl, I am so very sorry for the loss of your grandfather,” he said, his lovely brown eyes moist. “I know you were very close.”

“Thanks, Dr. Kumar.” I smiled wetly at my old friend. “How was Branson?”

“Oh, Callie, it was lovely! We had a very wonderful time indeed. Next, we are hoping to go to Dollywood. But tell me, my dear, how do you like Dr. McFarland?” Dr Kumar smiled sweetly.

“I like him very much, Dr. Kumar.”

“Yes, I had it in my mind that you would. I’m glad.” With that, Dr. Kumar winked, hugged me again and moved on.

When the time came, Louis herded everyone out so we could head for the cemetery. “Can I have a second alone, Dad?” I asked.

“Of course, Poodle,” he said. “We’ll just be outside.” Louis thoughtfully closed the door behind my dad, leaving me alone in the Serenity Room.

The quiet fell heavily. I went up to the casket and looked at my grandfather’s face. “I guess this is it, Noah,” I whispered. For all his curmudgeonly ways, he’d always been a rock in the river of my life, and it hurt to think I’d never talk to him again.

Then I opened my purse and fished out the little tokens I wanted him to have. A curl of cedar shaving from the floor of his shop. A tuft of Bowie’s fur. A chocolate chip cookie.

And one more thing. A card from me, one of the weekly drawings I’d sent him after Gran died. This one was typical child’s artwork…a heart and tulips and a rainbow of thin, wobbling Crayola lines. Along the bottom, written as neatly as I could, were the words I love you Grampy! xoxoxoxox Calliope.

I’d found it yesterday at the bottom of his sock drawer. Each one of those sixteen cards, tied with a faded ribbon. He’d kept them for twenty-three and a half years, and he saw them every day. That knowledge made my heart feel thin and fragile, as if the slightest nudge would break it.

A few tears slipped down my cheeks. One plopped onto Noah’s flannel shirt, and I thought he might like that, because despite all that growling and cussing, Noah had been quite the softy.

“Thank you, Noah,” I whispered, touching his scratchy white beard for the last time. “Thank you for letting me be useful. Thank you for everything.”

THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY was the River Rat Regatta, a raucous affair that involved lots of locally brewed beer, hot dogs and an occasional race down the Connecticut. Not your typical regatta, mind you, in which people cared about the results…nah. This was more of a good-spirited romp. Some of the events included Ugliest Boat, Best Use of Cardboard and How Long Can You Last, a breath-holding competition usually won by Jim, owner of the Whoop & Holler, who’d been a Navy SEAL in his youth.

The late October sun was bright and strong, though more than likely, this was our last gorgeous weekend. The foliage was mostly gone, a few brave ash trees clinging to their yellow leaves. It had been a drier-than-usual September, so the river was slow and placid, winding its way between New Hamster and Vermont in graceful curves.

This year, the River Rats had asked me to present the Most Beautiful Boat award, which they’d just this week renamed the Noah Grey Award of Aesthetic Excellence. In years past, they’d always asked Noah to present it. He’d always declined, though he usually showed up for a peek. I was touched that they’d asked me.

I waved and smiled to the many people I knew. Soon I’d meet up with Annie, but for now I was solo, as Ian was at work. At the thought of my honey, my heart squeezed. I was in love, and for the first time, it was the kind of love that made me feel like a better person. Mark may have been all I’d thought I ever wanted, but Ian…Ian was what I needed.

“Hey, Callie,” my brother said, appearing at my side. He was wearing one of Noah’s shirts, and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. The resemblance to our grandfather was a bit surprising, especially as he knelt to pet Bowie. “Where’s Ian?” he asked.

“He’s coming a little later. Saturday hours,” I answered.

“You guys serious?” Fred asked. Bowie sang in near-orgasmic pleasure as Fred found an itchy spot.

I blushed. “Sort of. Yes.”

“He seems cool,” my brother said, rising and brushing off Bowie’s fur. “Callie…I was thinking.”

“What? Are you okay?”

“Be serious.” He folded his arms over his chest and looked over my shoulder. “Noah left the rights to all his boat plans to us three, did you know that?” I nodded. “I was thinking I might try boat-building,” he said. “Continuing the tradition.”

My mouth fell open. “What about college?”

“I’ve changed majors six times in three years, Callie. I’m guessing that says something.”

“Weren’t you thinking of becoming a lawyer?”

“Yeah. But only because I’m good at bullshitting,” he said. “But…well, I’ve just been thinking about it, and the truth is, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. Helping Noah out in the shop…that was always the time I felt best. Less like someone going over jackass hill, more like I was doing something…meaningful. Whatever.” Freddie rolled his eyes, embarrassed, but I could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I think you’d be great,” I said.

“Could I make a living at it, do you think?” he asked.

“Well, Noah did just fine. You might have to cut your prices at first, do some marketing…hey, I could help you! Noah never did let me advertise, but this would be so nice. Noah’s Arks would be a family tradition. Multigenerational. We could do a Web site, a photo gallery…”

“I won’t do as good a job as Noah, though,” Freddie said, looking for a minute like the little boy I had so loved.

“Maybe not at first. But you’ll do great. I know it.” Bowie, in complete agreement, licked Freddie’s boot as encouragement.

Fred gave me a quick hug. “Thanks, Calorie. I hope Mom won’t freak when I tell her.”

“She’s too busy rediscovering Dad,” I said.

“Which is disgusting,” Hester said, coming up with the girls.

“Yeah, right. Like you’re any better,” Bronte said. “Callie, guess who’s coming to dinner? Louis. He wants to, like, ‘get to know us.’” She made quote marks with her fingers. “Freak.” Hester rolled her eyes and gave her daughter a fond nudge.

“Louis made me a death mask,” Josephine said, letting Bowie lick her chin. “It’s in my room. I’m wearing it for Halloween. I named it Mooey.”

“That’s a great name,” I said. “What do you think of Louis, Josephine?”

“He’s nice,” she announced, then, apparently finished with that subject, said, “Grammy’s taking me shopping for my flower girl dress. I can pick out whatever I want.”

“Leopard skin, I’d say,” Freddie recommended.

“Buy me popcorn, Uncle Fred,” she commanded.

“Yes, my liege,” he said, taking her by the hand. “See you guys later. Bronte, you coming?”

“Sure. You’re my only cool relative,” she said.

“I resent that,” I called after her.

“Then stop singing the Black-Eyed Peas in public,” she retorted over her shoulder.

“Love you!” Hester called. Bronte didn’t answer, but she held up her hand, her pinkie, forefinger and thumb sticking out…I love you in sign language.

“Aw!” I said. Hester smiled. “So,” I continued. “Louis is…” shudder “…good to you?”

She shrugged. “The sex is amazing. We did it in a casket the other night—”

“Oh, my dear God in heaven, please strike me down right now!” I blurted, causing Bowie to bark in sympathy. “Hester! Come on! I’m a normal person. I’m disgusted with that kind of information.”

“What? You and Ian haven’t done it anywhere…unexpected?”

“Well.” I paused, feeling my cheeks warm. “He has this dock, you know? And we went out there the other night to look at the stars, and we had blankets, and things got…romantic.”

“Yawn,” said Hester.

“It wasn’t yawn, okay? He made me happy. Twice. It was…” Special. Beautiful. Meaningful! Betty Boop and I sighed happily, dopey grins across both our faces. I’d been having quite a few dopey grins these days. I paused, looking up at the achingly blue sky. Thought of my honey’s eyes. Bowie nudged my hand, reminding me just who my true love really was, and I scratched his ear obediently.

“Well, whatever. Don’t rule out the caskets. When Mom’s out, of course. Oh, look. Speaking of Mom, there they are now.” Hester shook her head. “Look at them. Who the fuck would’ve guessed?”

Our parents were wandering along the riverbank, holding hands. “Are you glad they’re back together, Hes?” I asked.

She sighed. “Not sure if glad is the right word. But what the hell, right? Their lives to fuck up.”

“I guess we know who’ll be making the toast at the wedding,” I said. “That was beautiful.”

She smiled at me again. “I’m starving. Want a chili dog or something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “See you later.”

No sooner had she left than someone called my name. Aw! Damien and Dave were here, also holding hands. They waved in unison, looking like an ad for Wholesome Alternative Lifestyle. There were Pete and Leila, ever absorbed with each other, two and yet one, like conjoined twins, which wasn’t the most romantic image, but it did seem to work for them. Apparently, the whole Green Mountain Media gang had come together and was heading toward me. We were—oops—they were one of the sponsors of the regatta, and we’d always had fun in the past. The good old days. A pang of nostalgia bounced around my heart. Not for Mark the man…but a little for Mark the boss.

“Hi, guys!” I said, waving.

Just coming past the little ticket booth was Fleur, smoking a cigarette, possibly the last person in our fair state to do so and earning quite a few glares and fake coughs. Karen snatched the cigarette from Fleur’s fingers and ground it out, and I couldn’t help laughing.

And here was Mark. His face brightened at the sight of me. I hadn’t seen him since my grandfather’s funeral, but I’d have to go in soon. Pack up my stuff and get my vacation pay and all that. “Hey, Callie,” he said. “How are you?” He knelt down to pet Bowie, who licked his hand appreciatively.

I smiled back, carefully. “I’m fine. How are you?” The rest of the gang swarmed around.

“Cheerio, mate,” Fleur added.

“We sure miss you,” Leila said. “The place is just—”

“—not the same. Not as fun,” Pete finished.

“And no one else bakes,” Karen muttered. “We really do miss you.”

“So do the clients,” Damien said pointedly. “We’ve lost three since you left.”

“Right, but no worries,” Fleur said. “They were mostly done anyway.” I wondered if she’d been promoted to creative director with my departure. Muriel had that job, more likely. And speaking of the ice princess…

“Where’s Muriel?” I asked.

Silence fell. Awkward silence. Pete and Leila exchanged looks, Fleur raised an eyebrow. Bowie flopped on the ground and offered himself to the first taker.

“Callie, walk with me,” Mark said, taking my arm. “We should talk.” Bowie leaped to his feet—I had him on a leash, so he had no choice—and trotted at my side as Mark steered me past the Lions Club grill.

“Hi, Callie!” Jody Bingham called, standing in line for a burger.

“Hi, Jody!” I called back. “How you doing?”

“Pretty good, thanks,” she answered. We were scheduled to have lunch next week. Noah’s girls.

“Guess what, Callie? I can do a cartwheel!” Hayley McIntyre demonstrated her skill, and I tugged my arm free from Mark’s grip to applaud.

“That was wonderful, honey,” I told her.

“I know it!” she affirmed, then ran off to her family.

“Can we continue?” Mark asked, his voice on the impatient side.

“What’s the deal, Mark?” I asked. “And why do we need to go way over here?”

“I’d like to talk privately.”

We came upon the back lawn of the library, which was closed today. The grass was still green, and a few leaves still clung to the branches of the crabapple trees that enclosed the yard. I used to come here to read after school when I was a kid, wishing I were Anne of Green Gables or Jane Eyre. A stone bench in memory of some long-ago patron overlooked the river, which shushed and gurgled past.

“Have a seat,” Mark said. I obeyed, and Bowie flopped at my feet, curling into a tight ball. The bench was hard and cool, despite the sunshine, and I fidgeted, not sure I wanted to be here.

Mark didn’t sit with me. He stood, hands on his hips, exhaled sharply and looked at the sky.

“Speak, Mark,” I said irritably. “You dragged me here for a reason, after all.”

He looked down at me. “Right. Okay, first of all, Muriel’s gone. So you have to come back to work.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“She and I are done. It wasn’t working out.”

“Wow.” I paused. “She came to Noah’s funeral.”

“Yeah, well, she left just after that.” Mark’s mouth was a straight line, and his shoulders were tight. “The BTR account went with her.”

“I’m not sure what to say, Mark.”

“Say you’ll come back to work. You wanted me to choose, so I chose. I chose you.”

“I didn’t…I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Mark ran a hand through his dark hair, then sat heavily next to me. His shoulders slumped, and he turned to face me. “Callie, you said some things the night Noah died. And I listened, okay?”

“Uh…apparently not, since I quit that night. I won’t be coming back, Mark.”

But then Mark took my hands in his and just stared at them. “Callie, if I could turn back time—”

“As Cher would say,” I couldn’t help interjecting, reclaiming my hands and folding them primly on my lap.

He grinned, and suddenly he seemed more…normal. “Okay, that was funny.” I gave a half nod, as he was right. “But listen, Callie.” His voice lowered, and he gave me the James Dean look. “I screwed up. I didn’t see what I had in you, and I…” He shook his head. “I want you back. At the company, and you know, if you want to give a relationship another shot, that would be…that would be nice. Great, in fact,” he amended hastily. “So. Let’s get you back in the office and see where things go on the, uh, personal front.”

Bowie, an emotional whore if ever there was one, instantly forgave Mark and sprang to his feet, licking Mark’s hand. Me… I’d become a little more demanding. “That was the lamest offer I’ve had in my entire life, Mark,” I said.

“I’ll give you a raise,” he said earnestly.

“Gah! Come on!”

“Callie, please. I’m making a mess of this, I see that, God knows, but…well, Callie, you’re great. And I could…I could definitely see us working out. Really. You said you’ve loved me for years. Give me another shot. Let’s go back to the way things were in Santa Fe.”

“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.