As he walked into the restaurant she saw the same devastatingly handsome man that made her life beautiful so many years ago. The only difference now was that his jeans fit better, his shirt revealed broad shoulders that he didn't have before, and he smelled of expensive cologne and not deep fried food from the days when they had half-worked and half-played at this very spot. For years she chose not to remember. Now, her past life was ever present.

Blake returned a few minutes later carrying a bucket of chicken, waffle fries and two Cokes. Her grandmother's secret seasonings had made the chicken and waffle fries legendary in Savannah and throughout the region. People travelled from all over to eat there. He grabbed a piece of chicken and she heard the crunch as he bit into it. "I think you better eat now."

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

Rena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What?"

Blake reached his hand in the bucket and pulled out a piece of chicken. "Eat."

After a few moments of hesitation, Rena took it from his hand and began to eat. It was so good that it caused her to release a slight moan. She sat contemplating how much she chose to forget. Next, she grabbed some fries, and the taste of them was like being resurrected from the dead. "This is so good. I truly forgot. My goodness." A smile crept over her face.

"That's the first sign of happiness I've seen on your face since you got here." He squeezed her hand and sparks flew between them. "Listen, I don't want to overwhelm you, but a lot has changed since you've been gone. The reason that I want you to eat now is because when you see what Ian has done to your mother's house you are going to be angry. You'll probably not be in a mood for eating."

Rena looked worried. She felt her body tensing. She knew coming home wasn't going to be a cakewalk, but she wasn't expecting a briefing.

"Your mother has lost a lot of weight and you might have to adjust to that a bit."

Now she was tearing up. A tiny tear trickled down her cheek. Blake reached for a napkin, leaned over and dabbed it away. His touch lit a spark. For just a second, his closeness brought back memories that she'd tucked away. He held her gaze and then turned from her and said, "I think we should be going."

As they drove off, she looked behind at the restaurant. It hadn't changed. It was still a brick store front with the huge glass window that had the logo painted on the glass in bright colors. The place was as nostalgic as the historical district where it was located. The red and white awning that stretched the length of the building gave shade to those that were always willing to stand in line just to get a taste of Grandma's chicken. As they turned the corner she could see the back of the building. The old dumpsters were there.

What she saw was not just the old dumpsters, but also the water hose beside it. As she looked, she could see herself and Blake hosing each other down and covered in suds as they washed out the trash cans and dumpster each night. She heard their laughter and then the car stopped at a red light, bringing her back from the past. When she focused and turned, Blake was looking at her.

"What?"

He didn't respond. He was too busy gazing at her. She was resplendent. He hadn't considered that she could impact him in this way again. Blake was in his own world of private memories. Oh my God. Why can I barely breathe? This has got to be some kind of a dream. It's been ten years. How can she still make my heart race?"

"Really, what?"

"I was just thinking how much you haven't changed and everything else has." There were other thoughts pounding his grey matter and forcing him to remember who she was and what she'd always meant to him. He didn't want to think about it. He lassoed the thoughts into submission. I've got to get control of myself. Rena Blackshear made her choice. I wasn't a part of it. "I can't believe that you kept your hair red. You always hated it. I thought that would be the first thing to change."

"At some point, I came to appreciate my Irish side. Plus, you always said, 'What better color is there for green eyes?'"

Blake chuckled, turning on the blinker, and headed down the final few miles to the house. "I did say that and I still mean it. That hair cut looks nice on you, and the bronze nails – I never would have imagined you so...so..."

"Dolled up?"

"Yes, dolled up. You were one of the few people that got off the plane in a business suit and heels. Miss Rena Blackshear, an executive with polished nails and a Rolex. I'd never have imagined it. You look good."

Good is what he said, not what he thought. His mind was in shambles. This was not the way it was supposed to go. He was supposed to pick up an old friend at the airport. He was supposed to deliver her to a doorstep. He wasn't supposed to remember a woman that once held his heart. She was dead to him, wasn't she?

Blake was smitten by one glance of those deep, green eyes. His heart pounded at the thought of how absolutely alluring she'd become. His lips remembered how kissable she was. He felt the taste of it on his tongue, just like he was in the moment. His heartfelt emotions seeped through the sealed vault that he'd kept them in. I could kill Ian for asking me to pick her up from the airport. This is not good – not at all good. Things have changed.

Rena blushed. "I've got to look the part."

"I'm sure you do, but I hope you've brought your jeans and t-shirts. You're going to need them."

What had Ian done? This vibe that Blake was creating was so foreboding it made her want to ask him to take her back to the airport and head north. Clarissa Blackshear was always in control of Ian. Rena could never imagine her mother not being in control of Ian and everything else, even in her sickness. She'd always been a strong woman. Once her mind was made up there was nothing powerful enough on earth to change it.

Her father never would discuss why they got divorced. He'd only say, "When it comes to divorce, it's not always about fault but choices."

Rena never liked that explanation, but it was the only one she got. Eventually, her father took a lover – Ms. Beth. She was a tall blonde, ten years younger than her mother. Ms. Beth took it upon herself to be a surrogate mother to Rena, though she never married her father. Ms. Beth tried to be nice, but Rena resented her.

Blake finally turned down her street. The smell of magnolias and the beauty of cypress trees brought a flicker of happiness to Rena. As they approached the house, Rena could not understand what Blake meant. The house looked exactly the same. It was an old white plantation with a wraparound porch and beautiful ornamental guardrails. The lawn was well kept and her grandmother's beloved roses were still in bloom. From everything she saw, the house was in great shape. It wasn't until Blake passed the house that Rena began to think again.

"Blake, why are you passing my house?"

"It's not your house anymore. Dr. Clark is renting it."

A storm was working its way across Rena's face. Blake was as tightlipped as he'd been most of the trip from the airport. Blake glanced out the corner of his eye. Rena's hand was trembling. Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"You're not going to tell me what's going on?"

"It's not that I don't want to tell you. I want you to talk with Ian. That's the best way, Rena."

After driving about another mile they pulled into a new subdivision. This wasn't home with the nostalgia of Savannah surrounding them. This was a cookie-cutter subdivision – no trees, no beauty. At the end of the street was her brother's large stucco home.

"Mother got tired of the upkeep and moved to a smaller home?"

"This is Ian's house."

Rena's mouth dropped open. "My mom lives with Ian?"

Blake parked the car. He walked to the back of the Mercedes, unloaded the luggage, and then opened the door for Rena. Her face was flushed. Blake strapped the bags on the cart. "Come on."

Rena was lost in a haze. She had the grand inclination that this was not going to be the only shock along this road. Her mind was still swirling over her home. Their estate had been in the family for at least three generations and it was now being rented. She was so far gone that she didn't hear Blake ring the bell, nor did she recall when the door opened. She just remembered the smell of cigarette smoke. Nobody in her family smoked. When did Ian start smoking?

"Hey, sister! Come on in."

Ian looked unkempt in appearance. He was tall with a seductive look, and those unforgettable brown eyes had turned many women's heads in Savannah. But now his face was scruffy, his weight gain was noticeable, and his thick auburn hair was ruffed up. It was evident that beer had a part in the weight gain. There were empty beer cans on the table, and on the floor. It wasn't just the beer cans; the place was a wreck. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months.

Rena and Blake stepped in as Ian closed the door behind them. The Ian she knew was a troublemaker and fastidious. Rena turned to Blake. Her eyes were pleading, as if to say, Please tell me that I'm asleep and will wake from this. 

Please take a moment to vote, helping Only You for the Wattys.  Thanks for your support.

************Author Note*******

To: My Beloved Readers

From: Jaspira

I truly appreciate all you.  I keep all your words of encouragement in a folder.  Anytime I need a bit of inspiration to keep writing I just pick up your words to me.  Many of you have asked questions about how to write or write better.  I started writing when I was a little girl, so writing was all ready in me. However, if you really have a desire to write YOU CAN DO IT!  Here's my tip, the best way to write is to just write. Dig deep and pour yourself into your characters.  If you can't feel them no one else will. Sometimes when I'm writing I have to keep a tissue box nearby because I'm crying or I'm laughing so hard I almost fall out the chair.  You have to get into a zone where you feel one with the character, let your emotions write the story.