“I’m not going to tell you to call. I’m not going to tell you I want to talk over old times. That’s just not the way it is.”

“I am so sorry I hurt you, Marissa. I knew that I probably was hurting you but—” The brown gaze flicked to the package in Marissa’s hands. “There were reasons. But no excuses. I behaved badly and I’m sorry.”

Her breath catching, Marissa hated that she was blinking back tears. “I won’t let you break my heart again.”

“That’s not going to happen, no.”

What did that mean? Wasn’t Linda here to try to rekindle their Tahitian flame? “So forgiveness is all you want?”

The flash of light might have been a car moving in the parking lot or it might have been Linda’s smile. “I’m not saying that either.”

“I have to go to work.”

“I have an appointment to get to as well.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

Even as Marissa was biting her tongue not to ask questions, Linda strode toward a nondescript sedan that screamed “rental.” And just like that, she was gone.

Dazzled, befuddled, bemused—Marissa couldn’t find the right word to describe how she felt. She would not spend the rest of the day, as she had spent so many days, wishing for Linda to call. She would not go back in time.

“Hey, girlfriend. You’ve got some mail and here’s your very own newly minted Finders Keepers Questionnaire.” Heather handed Marissa the bundle of envelopes with the questionnaire on top.

“The printer finally came through. Halle-Berry-lujah.”

“I’ll get the waiting list out to the prospective clients today and Ocky is looking for you.”

“I love the hair clips.” Marissa peered at the glitzy blue and white barrettes holding back Heather’s hair.

“Tar-jay, Le Chic.”

“Oh.” Marissa leaned close and said in a whisper, “I’m buying a condo.”

“Oh—you talked to Octavia? That’s very cool. Wait until you tell your mom.”

“She’ll be picking out carpets.” The prospect of sparring with her mother over decorating was actually quite pleasant. “Little does she know how much crap I have.”

Marissa tried to settle into her work day but the morning encounter with Linda had been deeply unsettling. She had been certain she was over Linda. She no longer thought of her every day and when she did it wasn’t with, well, anguish or anything. Regret was a good word. Nothing more than a vague, wistful regret. Right.

“Is that another new shirt?”

Marissa glanced up to smile at Ocky. “You noticed.”

“You’re becoming quite the clothes horse.”

Her smile dimmed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not a bad thing. I mean, I should talk.” Ocky settled into the only clear chair in Marissa’s office. “So when were you going to tell me you’d signed up as a client?”

Uh-oh. “When I was actually dating someone. I mean, I signed up months and months ago. I just didn’t . . . make any calls until recently. I wasn’t ready.”