She laughed. “Not quite that long. But it’s been a while. Thank you for doing that.”

“You’re welcome. Here, you can put this back for me?” He handed her the can as he ascended the stairs.

Waving his arm in the darkness, he finally made contact with the old pull string that operated the single light in the attic, although it wasn’t much brighter with it on. The space was cold and smelled of dust.

Along the right wall tucked up near the eave were boxes with his name on it. Andrew Trophies. Andrew Clothes. Andrew and Kelly? He paused. Now why on Earth would Mom save that old junk? The box next to that one was labeled Andrew Shoes & Boots.

He grabbed that box and sure enough, his old cowboy boots, ostrich skin, were tucked neatly inside with newspaper stuffed in them to hold their shape. They’d been a Christmas present. He slipped one on. They still fit like a glove.

He folded the corners in on the top of the box and slid it back over where he’d found it.

The box with Kelly’s name on it taunted him.

He glanced at his watch. He still had a little bit of time before Dawn was supposed to be here, and if things hadn’t changed she’d be at least fifteen minutes late.

Walking toward the box, he questioned himself for even being curious. At the fork in the road, he’d made his choice. But rather than turning and going downstairs, he got the box and carried it over under the light. He sat cross-legged beneath it and pulled the tape that secured the top. It had lost its sticky over the years. Inside, his high school yearbooks were on top of a couple of photo albums Mom had made for him. Several spiral notebooks that held some of the first recipes he’d ever created were in the bottom. He flipped through them, impressed by some of the techniques and combinations he’d come up with at such a young age.

He turned to the inside cover of his yearbook. Some of the quotes were so cheesy.

Dude, no one trusts a skinny chef. Eat more junk or you’ll go broke. Your brother from another mother, Michael

I expect a chair in your restaurant with my name on it so I’ll never go hungry after tasting all your homemade lunches. I’m not tipping you though. Jordan.

Remember me when you’re a rich restaurateur. Carla

Andrew, You’d better invite me to the wedding. You’re the luckiest guy to have Kelly. She’s too good for you. Not going to be the same without you around here. Just one more year for me. David

Andrew— Go all Chef Ramsay on the world! Bobby

I kissed a chef, and I liked it! Here’s to our future together. Love, Kelly