I sputtered something unintelligible, flustered by this rare show of aggressiveness, before finally finding my tongue again. “Missy, think of the odds!”

“Grace, stop trying to justify your fear!” She took a deep breath and headed for the door. “Let me remind you of something you said back when all this started, when you were getting ready for the premiere. You told us, ‘He’s just a regular guy, underneath all the Stardust and celebrity. If I can just get myself to see past the fame, it’ll go fine.’ I thought you were crazy at the time, and now I see you were right. Now you just have to remember it.” She closed the door behind her and jogged down to the car. I heard the door slam and the car back out and drive away, and I stood in the living room, fury and fear and desperation wearing ruts in my heart.

I’d arrived ten minutes early, but I was fifteen minutes late. I couldn’t seem to get myself out of the car.

He’s just a regular guy underneath all the Stardust and celebrity. If I can just get myself to see past the fame, it’ll go fine. The thought came to me unbidden, and I tried to believe it. Who was anyone, really, once you took away what made them popular or famous? Just another guy on the street. Big deal. Just a guy was the key phrase I had to remember here.

My cell chimed beside me, making me jump. Jack’s number lit up the LCD. “Hey,” I answered, trying to sound light. “Just pulled in; sorry I’m late.”

“No problem. On your way up?”

“Yep, just shutting off the car.”

“Okay, see you in a sec.”

I hung up, let out a shaky sigh, and shut off the car. No going back now. Out of the car, walk to the door, buzz the intercom, walk up the stairs, and his door opened before I even had a chance to knock.

Candles everywhere. In the center of the room sat a table draped in white linen, set with white china and ornate silverware. A champagne stand was beside the table, and a single red rose lay across one plate. Soft music wafted from the stereo in the corner, a Billie Holiday CD I had once mentioned as being one of my favorites. The door closed behind me and there was Jack, devastating even in khakis and a white button-down. Another rose was in his hand. He smiled, and for the first time he looked almost shy. He leaned over cautiously and kissed my cheek, then held out a flower. “Hi.”

“H-hi.” Amazed that anything came out. “This … this is”—I shook my head and sighed—“beautiful. I’m speechless.”