Dani chuckled. “Well, he is my cousin. His name is Mr. Adam. Go eat. Tell Coach I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

She closed the door, relieved. Adam and Meredith were here. Maybe Meredith could talk to Michael about therapy. Diesel had probably invited her over for that reason, asking her to bring chocolate chips to make her visit less formal.

Quickly she got ready, changing out of her sweats into a pair of jeans and a sweater the exact color of her blue eye. She added a dash of makeup that she normally would not have worn. Because Diesel was in her kitchen, she could admit.

And he’d kissed her last night. Several times. Then left her wanting more.

Which was smart on his part, she could also admit. He always left her wanting more. Glancing at her door to make sure it was still closed, she opened her sock drawer and pushed the socks aside, revealing a beautiful hand-knitted lace shawl.

It was black with a jagged white stripe that stretched across its length. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Like my hair. She’d found the shawl on her chair at the clinic one morning about a year ago, wrapped in shiny foil paper. There’d been no name attached indicating the sender.

She hadn’t realized that it was from Diesel until later, when Meredith had pointedly told her that Diesel had learned to knit. Dani hadn’t confirmed to Meredith that she knew Diesel had made the delicate shawl, but she had a feeling Meredith was aware that she knew.

Dani hadn’t thanked him. But she wore the shawl whenever she went out, and she knew he’d seen it around her shoulders. It allowed her to pretend that it was Diesel’s arm around her, instead of the lace he’d created with those big hands of his. I need to thank him. I need to acknowledge this beautiful gift. She met her own eyes in the mirror. I need to acknowledge the beautiful gift of his affection, too.

Even if she would never accept it. No matter how much she wanted to. Her dream had been the stark reminder she’d needed to shut down her fruitless desire to belong to him. Because, God help her, she still wanted to.

She closed the drawer and opened another, staring at the neatly folded, frothy lingerie. She didn’t touch the letter that she’d hidden under her best underwear. She didn’t have to. She knew its contents word for word. Short and bitter, they were Adrian’s last words and she’d forever hear them in his voice.

I said I was sorry, but you didn’t care. Are you happy now? I hope you’re a better doctor than you were a lover. Have a great life. Would have loved to spend it with you.