“That’s bleak.”

“Is it? Not for a lot of people right now. Not for Flo.”

Linnea cringed. “We should go.”

“Wait.” John sighed. “I don’t mean to be grim. Just the opposite. What I mean to say is…” He took a breath. “That every day is meant to be lived. Fully. With our eyes wide open. Our senses on full alert. Not wasted. Or squandered in doubt or self-pity.”

There was a long silence while they stared into each other’s eyes.

“You asked how all this makes me feel,” he continued. “It makes me feel shocked straight. Even afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid I’m going to die without you knowing that I still love you.”

Linnea’s lips slipped open in a silent gasp. She stared into John’s eyes, two intense green flames, and couldn’t feel the cold.

He took a step toward her and held her against his chest, so tight her breasts crushed against him. She knew the smell of him, the taste of him. She felt desire welling as he cupped her cheeks and lowered to a kiss…

“No!” she cried, pushing back from him, her breath coming hard.

John stared back, his eyes glazed.

“I won’t do this again!” she cried.

“Linnea, I—”

“I don’t trust you when you say you love me. You have no right to tell me that now,” she shouted at him. “It’s too late.”

He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. She slapped it away. Unlike Flo’s, her memory was still sharp.

“You broke my heart!”

He moved his hand to his head and raked his hair, momentarily stunned. “I’m sorry. I was a fool. Please…”

“No.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, mingling with the rain.

“I can only say this once,” he told her, wiping his face with both hands. For a moment he stood with his palms covering his face. Then he dropped them, and he looked at her, his gaze boring into hers.

“I’ve always loved you. That was never the issue. I was afraid. I didn’t think I was ready. But when you left, you took everything good with you. Any chance for happiness walked out that door with you. For a year I tried to get you to listen to me, but you wouldn’t answer my calls. My e-mails. My texts. I even wrote you a letter. When I didn’t hear from you, I didn’t give up. I thought, okay. You needed time. Linnea, I never gave up hope. But this spring, when it came on a year, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

He paused and made a sound of exasperation. “I didn’t come here for some conference! I came here for you. I knew I’d run out of time. I had to be here, to tell you how I felt, before some other guy realized how amazing you are and swept you off your feet.” He paused. “And I was right.”

“What did you think would happen?” she asked, daring him to answer.

“Not the goddamn virus, that’s for sure. I could not believe my rotten luck. I was stuck in that carriage house able to see you from the window, but not talk to you. But then came hope in the form of a little girl. And a paper airplane. She made a connection possible. A tenuous beginning based on us being friends again. I grabbed hold of that. I knew you felt something for me.” His smile was sad. “You’ve never been very good at hiding your feelings.”