Chapter 2

The next month passed. I was a mess the whole time. My savings were gone. The only thing I owned outright was my car. I had a mountain of debt to pay off. I got sick; supposedly it was a winter cold, but I know it was partly due to the stress. And despite my best efforts, there were no new job offers.

But that wasn't the worst part.

Each night, I sat in my room, Kevin's number on the screen of my cell phone. All I had to do was hit "send". Only I never did.

What would I say? How could I approach him without seeming like I was only after him because of his money? How could I be sure I was attracted to him because of who he was, not for the things he had or what he could do for me? How could I be sure he wouldn't break my heart again?

Valentine's Day came and went. I half-expected to receive a card or gift, but none came. I didn't blame Kevin; I had been ignoring him for a month. What right did I have to expect anything from him?

I made a vow that I would only call when I had a job. But oh, how I wanted to hear the sound of his voice! And feel him pulling me close to him.

Mother tried to get me to talk a couple of times. She inquired about my trip to San Francisco, each time taking a different angle to get me to crack. But I resisted. Until she blindsided me.

"So who did you have sex with when you came back from California?" she asked me one day. Emily was at school. We had just put Toby down for his nap.

"Mother!" I exclaimed, unable to believe the she came right out and said it.

"Tell me, Melanie," she said in a very gentle, non-judgmental way. "It's okay; you're a woman and you have needs. Who was he?"

I blushed as dark as a Japanese girl can. "An old friend from high school."

Her eyebrow went up.

"We ran into each other at the airport," I admitted, secretly happy to finally be able to talk about my romantic encounter from a month ago. "Do you remember Kevin Westcott?"

"Kevin?" Mother couldn't conceal her surprise, but she still smiled warmly. "He was always a very nice boy."

"He still is, Mother," I said, trying not to sound nervous. "He paid for our hotel room while we were there."

"What is he doing now?"

I almost told her that he was a successful computer programmer and businessman, but I didn't, instead adopting his lie. "Kevin teaches history at a community college in Virginia."

Mother covered the disappointment well; I think she was hoping that I'd meet a guy who was financially well-off. She had wanted that with my ex-husband, and the fact that I had always made more than him was disconcerting to my parents. Both my mother and father were tenured university professors; she in chemistry and he in Japanese literature. They had familiar academic prejudices against community colleges as intellectually inferior.

She didn't say anything for a few moments. "Is he going to call on you again?"

"He has called a couple of times," I admitted. That much was true. I didn't answer the call, afraid of what I would do or say. I knew there was a chance Kevin would hate me for this, but I felt I had to weather this part of the storm myself.

"Why don't you call him?"

"Mother!"

"Why not, Melanie?" she asked with that sort of dismissive, but matronly, tone. "You're a modern woman. It's okay for you to call boys now."

I rolled my eyes. I really wanted to call Kevin back. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Not yet.

She didn't say anything else about Kevin and I was happy to let the subject drop. I spent the next two weeks chasing down more job offers and networking my heart out. My parents were happy to have me and the kids around. They played the role of doting grandparents to a T and weren't hesitant to give me some money to follow some employment leads.

When I was finally ready to give up and take the first thing that came down the pipe, even as a greeter at Wal-Mart, someone answered a resume I had posted online. I flew out to Seattle, made my pitch and hoped for the best. While I was waiting in the hotel room that night, I got a call. It wouldn't pay as much as I'd have liked, but at this point in my life, I was a beggar and I couldn't be a chooser.

My new job was out of the financial field, but that was okay. After all, an MBA and a career in banking hadn't done me any good over the last year. I was flying home when purely on impulse, I changed my travel plans.

"Hello, Kevin?" I said when his phone rang. "It's me ... Melanie Koiz—er, ... um, Nakamura."

"Melanie?" he sounded incredulous, as if he wasn't quite sure whether he was hallucinating or not.

"Yes ... Listen, I'm sorry I haven't called you back earlier," I hoped he wouldn't be too pissed off at me. "I'd like to make it up to you."

"Um ... sure," he stammered.

"Can I take you out to dinner?" I asked.

"I ... uh, when would be good for you?" he sounded puzzled. "Hold on, someone just rang the doorbell."

It was all I could do not to jump into his arms when he opened the door. We both stood there staring at each other. Time seemed to stand still.

"Hi," I said meekly.

"Hi," was all he could reply.

"Kevin, you can hang up the phone now," I giggled. If I'd had a feather, I could have knocked him over. "Can I come in?"

He didn't immediately reply. I didn't know what I would do if he said, "No"; the cab that dropped me off was long since gone. His jaw hung open, unable to form any words. Taking the initiative, I stepped over the threshold and put my arms around him. He automatically embraced me and pulled me close.

It was all I could do not to break down and cry. In that instant, I had never felt as safe and as comfortable as I did in Kevin Westcott's arms.

"Kev, I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be," he replied. I tried to say something more, but he silenced me with a kiss. It was one of those wet, sloppy, delicious kisses that could go on for days. It wasn't hungry or desperate. Instead, it was filled with passion and—dare I say it?—love.

His arms wrapped around me and pulled me into one of his gentle bear hugs. I felt myself lifting up on my toes to reach him.

We stood there in the foyer with the front door wide open for the world to see and held each other. After several minutes, he pulled back and set me down. I smiled sheepishly as he retrieved my suitcase from his front porch, then closed the door behind him.

He seemed to be searching for something to say.

"I wanted to call you back," I answered his unasked question apologetically. "But I couldn't. Not until I had straightened a few things out."

Kevin smiled weakly. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," I replied firmly. I had to say this, if only for myself. "For the last six weeks, I've treated you like shit and you don't deserve that. But, Kevin, you have to understand this: I'm still not in a good place. Things are a little better, but I can't rush in to anything. Not right now."

"I understand," he said softly; I'm sure he meant well, but the look in his eyes told me that he didn't.