“Oh, Chrissie, I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head in a way of slow doubt. I’m not sure whether I don’t believe it, or whether I simply don’t want to.

Suddenly, though, the doubt lifts like fog at the shore, because it makes sense. I do believe it. I want to. I don’t want Jack and me to be done. He is so far and above any other man I’ve ever met, and no, I don’t need a man. But here I am, looking at the clock every two minutes, feelings more lonely with each exit I pass.

Jack Sabathian is part of who I am.

The certainty of it sinks in as I drive south on a darkening highway, back toward a life that I’ve successfully shaped and fully control, but that still won’t be whole. And suddenly, half-whole isn’t enough.

“Uh, Chrissie,” I say with abrupt urgency, “I think I need to go back, have to turn around at the next exit—where the hell is the next exit?” I’ve barely said it when it appears. Blinkering right, I take the off-ramp, drive under the highway to the opposite on-ramp, and head back to Bay Bluff.

What took me fifty minutes southbound seems to be taking forever on the round trip. The northbound exits are more spread out, I swear they are. I don’t listen to music or take deep breaths, because trying to relax is futile. Same with going the speed limit, though I do stay within ten over.

I’m gripping the wheel as hard as I can in an effort to keep my mind off what I’m doing. Futile effort there, too. Because it’s crazy. I’m crazy, heading in the wrong direction when I have to work tomorrow morning. But little images keep slipping through my mind—dream thoughts, like our driving back to New York together, his watching me at work, our walking around the city, eating at places where I’ve always wanted to eat, sleeping in my bed, waking up together. I have no idea where Joy is through all this or, for that matter, Guy. Still, the dream wisps come.

I could just call him as I drive. Why don’t I call? I didn’t have to turn around to do that. I can even pull over at the next rest stop and do it.

But no. We have to be face-to-face. He has to know that I’m not running away this time—has to know that I will not abandon him, even if it means driving back to New York tomorrow at dawn. He needs to know that he is part of my life, that he will always be part of my life.