With his head tilted down and the sun shining on him, Sydney could see his scalp through his closely cut hair. His skin was getting pink from the sun. She reached up and rubbed his head affectionately, like he was a little boy. That’s how she saw him, that friendly, dignified little boy she once knew. Her first friend ever. “You should wear a ball cap. Your head is going to burn.”

He turned his head and gave her the strangest look, almost sad. “Do you remember your first love?”

“Oh, yes. Hunter John Matteson. He was the first boy to ever ask me out,” Sydney said ruefully. “Who was yours?”

“You.”

Sydney laughed, thinking he was joking. “Me?”

“The first day of sixth grade, it hit me like a rock. I couldn’t talk to you after that. I’ll always regret it. When I saw you on the Fourth of July and it happened again, I was determined that this time it wouldn’t stop us from being friends.”

Sydney couldn’t quite get her mind around it. “What are you saying, Henry?”

“I’m saying I don’t want to be set up with your friend Amber.”

The dynamic changed in a flash. She was no longer sitting beside young Henry.

She was sitting beside the man in love with her.

Emma walked into the living room that afternoon after unsuccessfully trying to make herself feel better by shopping. She had bumped into Evanelle Franklin downtown, and Evanelle said she’d been looking for Emma all day because she needed to give her two quarters.

And, as proof of how bad her day was, taking money from a crazy old woman had actually been the bright spot.

Her big mistake had been in meeting her mother for lunch to show her what she’d bought. Her mother scolded Emma for not buying enough lingerie and immediately sent her off to get something sexy for Hunter John. Not that it would work. She and Hunter John hadn’t had sex in more than a week.

She dropped the bags suddenly when she saw Hunter John sitting on the couch, flipping through a large book on the coffee table. He’d taken off the jacket and tie he’d worn to work that morning, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up.

“Why, Hunter John!” she said, smiling brightly, but at the same time an uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. “What are you doing here at this time of day?”

“I took the afternoon off. I was waiting for you.”

“Where are the boys?” she asked, hoping to take this to the bedroom. She glanced down, ready to grab the pink bag, the one that contained the sheer black bra and the thong with the tiny red bows.

“The nanny took them to the movies, then out to eat. I thought we needed to talk.”