Y GRADUATE SCHOOL, I BELIEVED myself to be over Trevor. Time did its work at healing the old broken heart and all that crap. I had a boyfriend or two in college. At Columbia, I was pretty damn popular with the men, being a professional one of the guys type, but I was too busy for anything real. I dated a little…Jeff, a fellow grad student who was wickedly funny and edgy and snagged a job with CNN our second year. Then there was Xavier, who taught chemistry at PS 109. But nothing serious. It wasn’t time. It was New York City, and in Manhattan, marriage isn’t something to think about until you’re forty or so.

In the six years since our brief fling, Trevor and I had gone back to the friendship we’d always had, back to a casual, fond relationship, not quite family, more than just friends. I made it a point not to moon after him, to be cheerful and friendly when he was around. It helped that he transferred out of Binghamton after my freshman year, finishing up at University of Vermont before going on to paramedic school. I spent my junior year in France, and when I came back, the ache wasn’t as noticeable. I was young, I told myself. Everyone had that wistful first love. I’d get over him.

But then one day, while I was in my final year of grad school, working at the New York Times as a fact-checker to make ends meet, Trevor called me. “Chastity,” he said, “I was wondering if we could get together. Maybe have dinner? I’ll come down to the city, what do you say?”

“Sure!” I said. “That would be great!” The flush on my cheeks, the slight tremor in my hands told me exactly what I was thinking.

He’d been dating some girl named Hayden, someone from Binghamton, actually, one of the cashmere sweater-set gang. She lived about twenty minutes outside of Eaton Falls, and sometime after college, she and Trevor started hanging out. I’d met her, even, hung out with the boys and Hayden at Emo’s last summer and been friendly and fun and relaxed as ever, barely even noticing that she was gorgeous, in law school, cool, confident, and seven inches shorter and probably fifty pounds lighter than I was. I thought I’d done a great job not being bothered.

But suddenly…suddenly, Trevor was coming all the way into Manhattan, a good three-hour drive, just to have dinner with me. For the very first time since that wonderful, horrible Columbus Day weekend, Trevor wanted to see me alone. Surely this meant something. He and Perfect Hayden had broken up, right? It had to be. And Trevor was coming down here to tell me that he’d never gotten over me. That now that we were adults (I was twenty-four, he was twenty-seven), shouldn’t we do something about the fact that we were meant to be together? Don’t get ahead of yourself, Chastity, a little voice in my brain warned. Be cool. Aren’t we training to become a journalist? Let’s get the facts first. I didn’t listen. Screw the little voice. I didn’t call home and ask what was new, either. I didn’t even call Elaina. I was afraid that I’d curse my luck if I mentioned that Trevor was coming all the way to the city to see me. That a brother would tag along, or worse, a parent.

In a frenzy, I blew two weeks’ pay at Long Tall Sally’s, the best place in town for us oversize girls, and bought an outfit that said casual, interesting, funky, confident, but not trying too hard. I bought a new pair of bright red high-tops. I got a haircut and a manicure. I interrogated friends and coworkers for the best place to take Trevor, a place that would show him that I was a cool New Yorker, that was comfortable but not sloppy, casual but still charming, an insider’s place.

“McSorley’s?” suggested a coworker.

“Too grimy,” I said.

“Aquavit?” suggested my boss.

“Too stressful.”

“Gotham Bar & Grille?”

“Too trendy.”

In the end, after four days spent researching restaurants, I found it. A tiny Italian restaurant in the Village where the waiters spoke broken English and the food was to die for. I knew Trev would love it. It was quiet, the staff would let us take our time, and it was so, so romantic with its tiny tables overlooking the street, and its brick walls and wood floor. Tony Bennett would play on the stereo. Our knees would bump, we’d stare into each other’s eyes, laugh, kiss. God, I’d missed him! Since the moment I’d hung up, wherever I was—in class, at work, in bed, on the subway—I pictured it over and over. When the little voice inside my head warned me to assume nothing, I told her to shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the moment.

When I finally buzzed Trevor up to my minuscule apartment that I had scoured from floor to ceiling, I was shaking. At last. At last, I would be with him again, because I’d never loved anyone else, that was perfectly clear to me. Not the way I loved Trevor. Never.

“Hey, Chastity!” he said, hugging me hard. “You look great! Wow. This is really cute!” He came into our flea-size living room, shook hands with my roommate, Vita, who gave me an approving nod.

“Well, we can come back here after dinner and hang out,” I suggested oh-so-casually. “Hey Vi, want to join us for dinner?” As instructed earlier, she declined gracefully, claiming a difficult paper and late date with her boyfriend.

And so Trevor and I walked through the streets of Chelsea, down into the Village. He was impressed with my knowledge of the city, seemed genuinely happy to see me, and when I reached out to tug him across an intersection when he walked too slowly, he didn’t remove my hand from his arm.

“It’s great to see you, Chas,” he said, smiling, his eyes doing that transforming thing. My heart bucked in my chest. Notice everything, I told myself. Drink it all in. You’ll remember this night for as long as you live.

And I did, but not for the reasons I wanted.

We got to the restaurant, where I was greeted warmly by the maître d’ I’d spent an hour interrogating three days before. He seated us at the chosen table overlooking the street, and our knees did indeed bump. We ordered a bottle of wine, chatted casually about work, firefighting, my family.

“So, Chastity, are you seeing anyone?” Trevor asked a little hesitantly, his chocolate eyes intent.

“Well,” I said, tilting my head, “not really. There are a couple of guys I go out with once in a while, but nothing serious. Just having some fun.” A perfect answer, one I had practiced in the mirror a dozen or so times, demonstrating that I was sought after, but discerning, and still quite available for a more meaningful relationship.

“Good for you.” He smiled, and I grinned back, taking this to mean good because I was free. For him. My toes curled in my high-tops. The waiter came over, we ordered and Trevor took a sip of wine, then set the glass down and straightened the cutlery. “Chastity, you know I’ve been seeing Hayden, right?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, tucking some of my newly cut hair behind my ear. My heart rate sped up, my knees tingled. Here it comes….

“Well, things have, um, changed a little,” Trevor said, not lifting his gaze from the tablecloth. His smile, I noted, dropped a notch. Still a little sad about breaking up with her, no doubt, whereas my own heart rocketed with joy. Oh, God, thank You. Finally.

I was so prepared to hear “We broke up” that I almost missed what Trevor actually said.

“We’re getting married.”

For a moment, my stupid smile, my expectant, hopeful stupid smile, stayed on my face. My eyes widened, and I took a sharp breath, then another, that stupid-ass smile still there, as out of place as kielbasa at a Seder supper. Then I was blinking, because my eyes were stinging with tears. Don’t you dare, that little voice hissed with sudden, vicious loathing. Don’t you dare cry, you stupid idiot. “Holy crap, Trev! Wow!” I squeaked. “This is great! Wow! Great!”

“You really think so?” His eyes were full of sympathy—or something, and suddenly, my pride galloped onto the scene.

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “This…I’m…surprised, you know? I didn’t think you were that serious! But congratulations! She’s great.”

“Thanks, Chas.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

“That was so…nice of you!” Bastard! “Yeah! No, really. Thank you, Trevor.” My fists were clenched in my lap, and I had to swallow again and again. “So, have you set a date?” The roaring in my ears was enough to drown out the happy details for the happy couple, but not enough to silence my little voice. You bleeping idiot. Didn’t I tell you to slow down? Huh? I can’t believe this. If you cry, I will kill us both.

Mario the waiter brought our dinners, and I ate and ate—the antipasto, the salad, oh, the bread, fantastic, and my penne alla vodka, out of this bleeping world, and if my mouth was stuffed, I wouldn’t have to talk, now, would I? Just smile and nod at whatever the hell Trevor was saying now.

“I was a little worried,” Trevor admitted, wiping his mouth. “About telling you, I mean.”

“Why?” I asked, stuffing another hunk of olive-oil-drenched bread into my mouth.

His beautiful dark eyes went sad. “Well, you know. Because of our…thing in college. I felt kind of awkward, telling you about being engaged. I was afraid you’d be—”

“Be what? Are you kidding? Come on! You’re like a brother to me, Trev. I’m happy for you. Really. She seems like a great person.”

Trevor—whom I really, really hated at this moment—smiled, albeit awkwardly. “Well, yeah, definitely. She is. Things just got serious kind of fast…Anyway. Thanks, Chastity.” He paused, seemed like he was going to say something more, then asked about my classes.

When Mario brought our tiramisu, I excused myself to the bathroom, threw up, then rinsed my mouth and stared into the mirror. “Idiot,” I hissed with a shocking amount of self-hatred. “You pathetic, ridiculous, stupid idiot.”

TREVOR AND PERFECT HAYDEN moved to Washington, D.C., where she had just signed on at a high-powered law firm. Trev picked up work as a paramedic, and they bought a condo and set a date for their wedding. Fortunately for me, they didn’t come home for Christmas that year, because even though I was used to treating Trevor like a pal, seeing him in love with his size-six fiancée would have been too much.

Something happened, though, and I never heard firsthand what it was. Matt told me only that it was Perfect Hayden who called things off, that Trev had wanted to work things out. Whatever the case, he moved back to Eaton Falls, resumed his job on the fire department and was a little quieter and more serious after that.

That was six years ago. Since then, to the best of my knowledge, Trevor hasn’t been in a real relationship, despite the number of women who would follow him to the ends of the earth. Maybe he has abandonment issues. Maybe he never got over Hayden. Maybe she was the love of his life. Maybe every night as he’s falling asleep, he thinks about her and can’t help imagining how incredible it would be if they were together again, if they had that love back, if things had taken a different turn.

And now she’s back.