I jerk the knot of my tie in place. I turn and throw my phone into my messenger bag with so much force I can hear the plastic thud against the wood of the table even through the leather. I pull my phone out and groan at the cracked screen before returning it. Jack purrs and rubs against my ankle, and I flick my ankle with a little too much force. He slides a few inches across the floor and whimpers. I bend down and reach for him.

"Sorry, buddy," I murmur. He narrows his eyes and hisses at me, then turns and raises his tail. I deserve that.

I turn to leave when my cell phone rings from inside my recently latched bag. I manage to pull it out as I open my car door. I roll my eyes when I see Charlie's name and answer it on speaker.

"Hey man, I need you to pick up the coffee and bagels for the staff meeting this morning. I'm running behind and I can't reach Miranda."

I groan and put my car in gear. "I swear, Charlie. If you're calling me from a dorm room right now," I snap.

"I'm calling from the baseball field. Practice ran late, and I stuck around to eavesdrop on the pitching staff. Montgomery is working out with our pitchers this afternoon. I figured you'd be okay exchanging a Roasters run for that intel."

My blood pressure elevates at just the mention of Montgomery. Blaise refused to press assault charges or get a restraining order, and I don't blame her. They never would have taken our word over his and the former police chief. Especially when "they" is the chief's golf buddy. But without a restraining order, there is no way I can keep him off campus and away from her. Which is complicated by the fact I'm trying to keep my distance.

"Thanks for the heads up. Mention it again in the staff meeting to Jana."

Charlie sighs. "You still avoiding her?"

"We are avoiding each other. Or at least we were. You do realize she works at Roasters?"

"Does she?" 

"You know she does. Wait - is this a ploy?"

"No, although I'm disappointed that I hadn't thought this scheme earlier. I must be losing my touch."

"You're insufferable."

"I really am. But I'm also serious. I wish you would just talk to her. You're miserable."

That may be the case, but she's not. And isn't that the point? The few times I've seen her on campus she's been smiling or laughing, usually in a group, surrounded by friends. I never ask about her, but Jana provides information occasionally. Enough that I know she's having the normal, fun college experience she deserves, one filled with challenging classes and frat parties and girls' nights out. Experiences she missed with Montgomery commandeering all her free time that would be impossible if she were wrapped up in some secret relationship with me.

I end my conversation with Charlie, turn on Main Street, and try to mentally and emotionally prepare myself to see her. I pull into a spot directly in front of the storefront. I look up and can see her reaching across the counter to hand Hope a to-go cup. I feel the familiar flutter in the pit of my stomach. A feeling of anticipation starts to build that I know by now to ignore the best I can. My mind knows to let Blaise go; my body hasn't gotten the memo. My hands still tingle with the urge to touch her every time I see her. My pulse still increases at every red coat and yellow umbrella I see.

I get out of my car and turn toward the door, but I can't take my eyes off of her. She turns to serve a pastry to a Brock and her smile is wide and warm and genuine. She looks so good, and my heart squeezes in my chest. I'm so distracted I don't notice Hope walking out the door. I take a step forward and collide with her. Her smoothie gets smashed between us. When I step back, green goo drips down the front of my coat.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaims. She sets the now cracked plastic cup on one of the cafe tables lining the sidewalk and blots at my lapel with the damp napkin that was just around the base of her cup. The napkin isn't big enough to soak up the spill. She's just making a smeary mess.

"It's fine, I'll take care of it later." I step out of her grasp and quickly run through my schedule in my head. If I time this right I'll have time to drop it off at the cleaners after the staff meeting.

"I'm glad I ran into you. I'm having a party. A little welcome home thing for my sister. It's not until next month, but you should come."

"Your sister? Faith?

The bell over the door jingles, and Brock shoulders past me on his way to the Courthouse.

"Yeah. She's moving back."

"Have you told Charlie?"

She giggles, a high pitch trill. "Oh, Lord. Why would I? Those two are ancient history." She laughs and lightly smacks my chest. Her hand lingers.

I look over Hope's shoulder and my eyes clash with Blaise's through the glass of the door. They widen for a moment before they narrow at the hand on my chest. She turns and pushes through the swinging doors to the kitchen. I mutter a non-committal response and say goodbye to Hope as quickly as I can.

I enter Roasters and Martha looks up and smiles warmly at me. I stand in line while she tends to the man ahead of me. It's just past the morning rush, so we're the only two customers in the shop for a few moments, until the bell tinkles and a small voice screeches Blaise's name. I turn and smile when I see Eliza tear through the dining room, Brenda trailing behind her. Eliza is a ball of energy and joy, but Brenda looks the exact opposite. She has dark circles under her eyes and her mouth is set in a tense, hard line. She leans against the counter.

"Hey Martha, is Blaise here?"

"She's in the back. What's wrong?" Martha hands the customer her change and Brenda rushes to her spot as soon as she steps away. She leans across the counter and whispers to Martha.

"I'm having a bad day. I need to get to a meeting. I hate to ask -"

Martha shushes her. "Of course. It's not a problem, dear. We'll keep an eye on her, and I'll let Blaise go as soon as the breakfast rush is over. Now scoot."

The second Brenda leaves, Martha lets her shrewd strategist face slip. She pushes her shoulder into the swinging door and gleefully announces Eliza's presence but is answered by the sound of shattering glass and twangy swear words.

"Shit! I cut myself. I'm fine. Don't let her back here until I clean this up," I hear Blaise shout back. 

I stare at Martha expectantly, but she just stares back.

"Are you going to check on her?" I ask.

"Why don't you be a dear and do that for me?" she coos in the tone she uses when she wants to sound like a sweet old grandma instead of the shrewd strategist she is. 

I round the counter and pull the red metal box from the third shelf to the left of the register. I extend the first aid kit out toward her. "Please, Martha."

 We stare at each other for a few more seconds, and just when I'm about the relent, Martha sighs and grabs the kit from my hand.

"Fine, I'll check on her. Keep your eye on Eliza for me." She pushes through the swinging door without waiting for my agreement.

I feel something tugging on the leg of my pants. I look down and into two almond-shaped, dark brown eyes. "Hey I know you. You're Martha's friend." I grin and nod.

"I am." I crouch down and extend my hand. "I'm James."

She puts her chubby hand in mine and shakes. "Eliza." Her hand is sticky, so I reach onto the counter behind me and grab a wet wipe. As soon as I clean her palm, she runs her hand from my temple to my chin, then giggles when she runs her hand back up. " That tickles. I like your face. It's furry like a bear."

I laugh and grab a muffin from behind the counter. I take Eliza to a table in the corner. She picks at the wrapper and stares at the top of my head.

"You need a haircut," she observes.

I chuckle again. "Do I?"

"Yes. Your hair is in your eyes. When my hair is in my eyes Mommy says I need a haircut."

She's right. I've neglected the barber shop for too long.

"You're right. Smart girl."

She grins at me. "Yep. I'm smart and strong and kind and brave and I can anything." She scoots off her chair and rounds the table. She gestures for me to bend down, so I do, curious and amused. I wish I had this kid's confidence.

"Did your mommy tell you that, too?" She pushes the curls away from my forehead and holds them with her hand, cocking her head to the side and studying my head. She pulls a pink clip out of her hair uses her left hand to try to capture my thick hair in her barette.

"Nope. Blaise says it all the time. Hold still." I want to respond, to let Eliza know how smart, strong, kind and brave her sister really is, but I don't dare move after her stern instruction. It takes her three tries, but I stay still and let her work it out.

Finally, she stands up straight and puts her hands on her hips while she examines her work.

"Better," she grins, then sits across from me to continue eating her muffin. It actually is better without the distraction in my peripheral vision.

I hear the croak of the door and then a gasp. I look up and into Blaise's eyes. She smiles briefly, then looks away. I can't take my eyes off of her. I know we can't be together, but my God I miss her. 

The look on her face leads me to believe she doesn't miss me at all. She crosses her arms, shifts her weight back and forth, and avoids eye contact, clearly uncomfortable with my presence.

"I'm sorry," I say standing and gathering my things. "I didn't mean to bother you. I was getting coffee for the office, and then she came in, and Martha-"

"It's fine, James."

Gut punch. It's been too long since I've heard her say my name. She walks to Eliza and scoops her up in her arms.

"I appreciate it, really." She smiles at me, but it's her customer service smile, not the real thing. 

"I better be going." I turn but feel her hand on my elbow. The simple touch radiates through my entire body.

"James, wait." The feeling of hope bubbles again and I slowly turn toward her. She shifts Eliza onto her hip and reaches up toward my temple.

I don't breathe or move, too afraid that I'll break the moment. I just watch her closely and enjoy her proximity. She pulls a sparkly butterfly out of my hair and hands it to Eliza with an amused grin. She reaches back up and ruffles my hair until it falls back into place, and I try to memorize the feel of her hands on my scalp because it's been a month since she's touched me last and I miss it. I'm going to miss it.

I miss you. Choose me.

Everything in my body screams the words. But I don't say them. There's no point.

"Goodbye, Blaise."