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He moans in my ear, "Christ, Lizzie. I want all of you. I want all of you again. Is that something I can have?" I pull him to my lips and chase his tongue in his mouth.

He speaks on my lips, "Who do I have to fight to claim you again?" Tears fill my eyes. "Shh. Ne pleure pas mon doux pétard.” He calls me his sweet firecracker and I feel any last shred of self-control or doubt rip from my heart. I may get burnt to a crisp again, but I welcome the heat.

I exhale my soul to him. "You. I belong to you."

His lips are firm and insistent. His tongue is wild inside my mouth and I want it in other places. I feel his desire trapped between our bodies and I want it. But I also want all of him. The musk of this man is teasing and tempting me. He pulls me closer. I have to stop this before I'm carried away and don't get my answers.

‘I’m so confused,’ says my head but my heart compels me to hold him tight. My head shifts back in charge to try and think through this rationally. I've got to walk away from him right now.

I have to prioritize me. I can't miss the meeting, not because of Hayden, but because of the job. I threw my world away for Danny once and it was a disaster. The scramble to set things right and the climb out of the plans we made almost destroyed me. I have to get this job for me. But I think I get to have this man, too. This fucking man who was fated to me long ago and for some reason is here, in front of me.

He kisses my neck and makes his way to my ear. I moan and gasp at how skillful he's become.

His teeth capture my ear and he whispers, "I don't think either of us has the entire story. But I have to go. I hate this, but I have to fucking go. I don't want to leave you tonight but I have no choice. Because if I stay, then I'm not sure I'll ever walk away."

"I know." Thank God he has to go. Perhaps together we can find the strength to stop from fucking on the sidewalk.

"Say you'll be with me tomorrow. That you won't disappear or run. We talk, we reacquaint, without our bodies that seem to remember what to do. I need to know why and what happened to you. I want to tell you everything that's happened to me since the last moment you told me you loved me. I want you, Lizzie. I can't have either of those things tonight. Tomorrow. But I have to go now. Trust me when I tell you it's important."

I smile. I put my hands on his face. "Danny. My Danny. Yes. Yes. Meet me tomorrow and then I'm all yours."

"Fucking perfect." He reaches for my purse and opens my clutch. He pulls out my work phone and I give him my real phone. He puts his name and number in my contacts, then texts me. "Please say you won't ghost me."

I say, "You can't leave me. Please tell me you'll meet me. First, we talk."

He nods. "As long as the talking is quick." His lips curl up and I laugh. I touch his face. He says, "It's too much. This is too much. Trust me. I'll be there. I'm trusting you." I know what he means. I can't have Danny floating around in my head as I prep to conquer.

"I have to go for tonight, before I can't," I say.

I break away from him, but he pulls me back and we spend the next ten minutes kissing, as if we're in some kind of competition. My body and mind are so light. Brain buzzing. Where has he been? I've never been able to find him. Not anywhere.

I've searched for Danny Danson, artist, maybe a million times. I searched every gallery in the Northeast. I searched the NFL records for my former high school football star. It was too painful to follow his football career in college, but I've seen some highlights when I search for him. There was an injury and Danny disappeared. He was gone, no address and the only Christopher Daniel Dansons I found were a car salesman in Iowa and a criminal in upstate New York, but that's a Chris Danson.

My Danny was supposed to be there at my door. He was supposed to be on that plane all those years ago.

Then I disappeared into a life without him and without explanation. The pain was always with me, sometimes so crippling, I'd do reckless things. I did all the things my father forbid. I slept with strangers. I took random pills offered to me. I'd drink until I was surrounded by friends of friends because my actual friends couldn't be around me. I wanted to be numb, but the pain was always waiting for me when I woke. And then I began to move on and simply carried it with me.

I numbed it all until Kris pulled me out of it and reminded me who I was. There'd be no Bette without the pain of Danny and the strength of Kris. She helped me reinvent. Then she died and now I've been strong for both of us in this life. It's her voice telling me to leave Danny tonight, so I can make sure to claim something for myself. Don't be someone's accessory.

I've cried very little since that time—like I used up all the tears I'm allotted for a lifetime on him. I still ache for him from time to time, but now it's just the sorrow I live with. What if I've built him up? What if he's not the perfect man who lives rent free in my head? My questions quiet with his touch. He's the piece I've been missing. The one I glossed over and pretended I didn't need.

When I got married, it was Danny I dreamed of. I thought if I forced myself to belong to someone else, I could escape the heartache. Dumbest three months of my life. But it was something my father opposed, so I made it a priority. After a year of being numb from heartache, I woke up and realized how many strings in my life my father was pulling. My entire schedule at school and the professors themselves were all under his control. I changed majors, got new advisers, and slipped away from his grasp as quickly as possible. My ex-husband took on a key role, as if that was the moment of demarcation between Lizzie and Bette. My wedding was when I truly became Bette Miller, leaving Lizzie Fox to wallow in the past, weak, broken and subservient.

Two weeks before I got married, Kris and I went on a rampage of searching for Danny. As if she knew I needed to put it all to rest. Kris reached out to everyone from that trip. Unfortunately, no one had any clue, and Tony was the only one who blew us off. My father refused to call me Bette, and it was gratifying to defy him and redefine myself.

Danny never responded to me, so I moved on. Eventually, that sharp pain in my soul dulled. And then it was something I always carried with me, like my phones. Don't leave home without your heartache. How could it all disappear? I'm willing to give in instantly to his touch after a decade of pain, longing, and confusion.

He hauls me back to him tightly. He's in my ear again, so I don't miss a word he has to say. "Lizzie. Fucking Lizzie right here in front of my face." I stand back and smile. He rushes back to me and says, "And I get to have you tomorrow." We've only spoken in whispers and hushed tones as if we're afraid of scaring away this reality.

"Tomorrow," I mutter to him.

He kisses me once more quickly and jogs away from me. I feel exhilarated and really fucking confused.

DANNY: Tomorrow, my Lizzie. We figure out what happened. And then we let it go. Tomorrow you're mine.

LIZZIE: I already am. But tomorrow I get to hold you.

DANNY: This time I'll request you don't let me go.