“San Francisco. Who would have thought, huh? I’d never been farther than Ohio, but I packed up and off I went. I had to get away and it seemed like a great idea at the time.” She paused, studied her tea. “It’s a great place.”

“I guess.” If he had to move back to the city and give up trees and fresh air, he’d suffocate.

Stephanie leaned toward him, laid a small hand on his forearm. “And yes, I did need to apologize in person.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Cash sighed, remembered the pain and torment of those years. “I was messed up and I shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

Laughter slipped out, covered him. “I didn’t get dragged anywhere I didn’t want to go.” Her voice dipped, turned curious. “It was a woman, wasn’t it?”

What she meant was, It was a woman who messed you up, wasn’t it? Cash nodded. “That’s an understatement.”

“Your wife?”

“Yup.”

“Of course.” Stephanie set her glass on the table between them. “She’s beautiful.”

Cash nodded, uncomfortable talking about his wife with an ex-hookup. The less he said, the better. Still, he wanted to know about her encounter with Tess yesterday. “So, you met my wife?”

“I did, but I didn’t tell her about us.” Her dark eyes grew wide, misted. “I would never do that to you.” She sniffed, swiped at her cheek. “But I don’t think I fooled her.” Long pause, followed by a whispered, “I could tell by the way she eyed me that she knew we had a history.”

A history? Yeah, they had a history all right and it was surrounded by disaster. “So, how long do you plan to stay in town?” He kept his voice even and folded his hands over his belly as though her answer didn’t make any difference to him. That was a hunk of bull because he didn’t like the idea of Stephanie Richmond and their history breathing Magdalena air one second longer than necessary. When she didn’t answer right away, he darted a glance at her. “Steph? What’s really going on?”

“I’m sick,” she blurted out, her expression crumbling. “Leukemia. I got the diagnosis last week.”

“Leukemia?” Cash clasped her hand, tried to find words that would comfort her, came up empty. “Damn, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I told the doctor I needed a month to get a few things in order and then I’ll start chemo. Coming here was top on the list. Forgiveness and all that.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, tried for a smile that flopped. “But there’s another reason for this visit. I need your help, Cash. I’m sorry to drag you into what I’m about to, but you’re the only person who might be able to help me.”

“What do you need?” He’d learned not to offer open-ended help before getting the backstory. Stephanie had always been a wild card, unpredictable and often insincere, but the leukemia diagnosis was a bad deal and nobody should have to slog through that alone.