Harriet said. “At least say his name. That would be a start.”
The start of what? She didn’t want to start something she’d worked hard to put behind her.
And she couldn’t blame her sister for pushing because she hadn’t been honest, had she? She hadn’t told Harriet how she felt.
“Seth—” His name stuck in her throat. “It’s been three weeks since Daniel bumped into him—Seth—at the vet practice. The plan was that I’d take control of the situation and go and see him in order to avoid an awkward encounter in the street.”
“You’ve changed the plan?”
“Not officially. It’s more that the plan isn’t working out. It’s awkward.” It was okay to admit that much, wasn’t it? Finding something awkward wasn’t as bad as finding it terrifying. “And I don’t think an encounter in the street could be any more uncomfortable than a face-to-face in the clinic.”
“I can imagine it feels a little awkward, but—”
“A little awkward? That’s like calling a hurricane a light breeze. This isn’t a little awkward, it’s mega awkward, it’s—” She floundered for a description and gave up. “Forget it. No word has been invented that correctly reflects this situation.” And even if it had, she wouldn’t be using it. She didn’t want Harriet to know how bad she felt.
“‘This situation’ being bumping into your ex.”
“You manage to make a highly complex and delicate situation sound simple.”
“That’s probably the best way to look at it. Don’t overthink it.” Harriet lowered the puppy to the floor and stood up. “It’s been ten years, Fliss. I know it was a traumatic time.”
“No need to dramatize it.” Why was her mouth so dry? She took a glass from the cabinet and poured herself some water. “It was fine.”
“It wasn’t fine. But everything that happened is all in the past. You have a whole new life, and so does he.”
“I never think about it.” The lie came easily even though a day rarely passed when she didn’t think about it. She also thought about what Seth’s life might have looked like if he hadn’t met her and occasionally, when she was indulging herself, what her life with Seth Carlyle could have looked like if the circumstances had been different.
Harriet studied her with a mixture of concern and exasperation. “Are you sure? Because it was a big deal.”
“As you say, it’s been ten years.”
“And you haven’t been seriously involved with a man since.”
“Haven’t met anyone who interested me.” Anyone who measured up. Anyone who made her feel the way Seth had made her feel. There were days when she wondered if what she’d felt had been real, or if her teenage brain had augmented those feelings.
“It upsets me when you don’t share your feelings with me. I can understand why you hid everything from Dad, and even from Daniel, but this is me.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Fliss—”
“All right, maybe I hide some things, but there’s nothing I can do about that. It’s the way I am.”
“No. It’s the way you learned to be. And we both know why.” Weary, Harriet stooped to remove Fliss’s shoe from the puppy’s mouth.
Fliss stared at her sister, the urge to confide momentarily eclipsing her quest for privacy. “I—I think about it sometimes. About him.” Why had she said that? If she opened the door a crack, her emotions were likely to come pouring out and drown everyone around her.
Harriet straightened slowly. “Which part do you think about most?”
That fateful birthday. The kiss on the beach. His mouth and hands. The laughter, the sunshine, the smell of the ocean. Passion and promise.
She could still remember it vividly. Almost as vividly as she remembered everything that had followed.
“Forget it. I don’t really think about it.”
“Fliss!”
“All right! I think about it. All of it. But I was dealing with it pretty well, until Daniel told me he’d seen Seth here in New York.” You were supposed to be able to leave your past behind. What were you supposed to do when it followed you? “Do you think he knew I was living here?”
New York was a city of eight million people. Eight million busy people, all running around doing their thing. It was a city of possibilities, but one of those possibilities was to live here anonymously, blending in. It had been perfect, until the day Seth Carlyle had taken a job in the vet practice they used regularly.
“In New York? I don’t know. I doubt he knew he’d be this close to you. It’s not as if you’ve been in touch.”
“No. Never been in touch.” It was the only way she’d been able to cope. Put it behind her. Move on. Don’t look back.
He hadn’t been in touch with her either, so presumably he’d been taking the same approach.
Harriet lifted the puppy back into his basket. “I know it feels difficult, but you’ve built a whole new life, and he has, too.”
“I know, but I wish he hadn’t chosen to move his life onto my patch. I should be able to walk the few blocks around our apartment without having to peer around street corners like a fugitive.”
“You’re doing that?” The shock in her twin’s eyes made her wish she’d kept that information to herself.
“I was talking hypothetically.”
“If you’d done what you planned to do and just walked in there and said, ‘Hi, good to see you again,’ you would have cleared the air and you wouldn’t be glancing over your shoulder. Things will feel easier when you’ve actually seen him.”
“I have seen him,” Fliss muttered. “He was standing in Reception when I made my first attempt to approach the building last week.” It was his hair that had caught her eye first, and then the way he’d angled his head to listen to something the receptionist was saying to him. He’d always been a good listener. It had been ten years since she’d touched him or stood close to him, but everything about him was achingly familiar.
Harriet was gaping at her. “You saw him? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Nothing to tell. And don’t worry, he didn’t see me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I dropped to the ground like a navy SEAL on a secret mission. I didn’t move until I was sure he’d gone. I had to stop a passerby calling 911, which was both annoying and reassuring because usually New Yorkers are too busy doing their own thing to pay much attention to a body on the ground. Why are you gaping at me?”
“You
