And what about Shallie’s own plans? Emma asked. Was she thinking about returning to Seattle if she wasn’t sure about marrying Cord? “I miss you so much,” she added.

“I miss you, too. We’ll talk soon, okay?” Shallie said hastily. “Gotta run.”

She didn’t really have to, but during their conversation, she’d suddenly realized this uncertainty couldn’t go on. She couldn’t continue in a state of indecision regarding her future. After all, she still had a job, her unpaid leave extended for another month, and an apartment in Seattle. She and Cord had to determine exactly where their relationship was going. Marriage? Shallie moving here? Some kind of arrangement with her living part-time in both places? Although she couldn’t imagine him being enthusiastic about that. And honestly? Neither was she.

Despite their history and genuine connection, great sex, a shared sense of humor…she still had doubts. Fleeting ones, perhaps, but self-protective ones, mostly at this point based on Rob’s unexpected betrayal. And yet, had she ever loved anyone more than Cord? Had she ever trusted anyone more?

CORD, OUT IN the stable that afternoon, was perturbed by Shallie’s text—mostly because it was so abrupt. Need to see you. 5 p.m. okay? Porch, with drink.

That sounded rather alarming, but he immediately texted back. Sure. See you then.

At 4:45 p.m., he was sitting on the porch with two dogs, one beer and a waiting glass of wine.

She hurried outside, apparently surprised he was already there. “Oh…hi.”

He picked up the wineglass, held it out to her, then gave her a chance to settle in one of the chairs, greet the dogs, take a sip. “All right. What’s so urgent? You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Well, not really.”

He leaned forward, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I need to know where we are. In terms of our relationship. We’re living together—sort of. Sharing a room, anyway. Not to mention sleeping together. But how serious are we?”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Totally and completely.” He had to stop, breathe deeply, so conscious of her beauty, her nearness, her scent. “I’m in love with you.” He paused again. “I told you that night in Silver Hills, remember?”

She stared down at her wine, at the dogs, the wooden slats of the floor—anywhere but at him. Then she glanced up. “I do remember. And I remember what I said. That I might be in love with you, too.”

He nodded, recalling the moment. Not that it was ever far from his mind. “But when we talked about this earlier, I got the feeling you weren’t ready…”

“Now I am. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. I love you. And,” she added, “I realize I’m not afraid anymore. Because I trust you. I just needed your reassurance that—”