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She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “I had a scholarship to Stanford. You know that.”
“Yeah, I knew that. But you didn’t go to Stanford.”
“Of course I went to Stanford.”
“Not right after high school.”
Embarrassment burned up her neck, her face. How did he know? “I took a year off.”
“Why? No one knew where you’d gone. I tried to get in touch with you. Your mother wouldn’t tell anyone where you were.”
“I asked her not to.”
“Why?”
“Why did it matter? You were all set to marry Michelle.”
“I almost didn’t.”
She jolted. “What do you mean?”
“I tried for months to find you. And the night before my wedding, I went to your house. I begged your mom to tell me where you were.”
“Why would you want to find me? You’d been pseudo-engaged to Michelle throughout all of high school.”
He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, opened it, and took out a yellowed piece of paper. He handed it to her. “I wasn’t in love with Michelle, Kath. I was in love with you.”
Twenty years earlier
“Thank you.”
Had her ears dec
eived her? Or had Brett Falcone just thanked her?
“You’re welcome.” She forced the words out. “Same time next week?”
“Tomorrow, actually.”
“Brett, I don’t have time to tutor you tomorrow. It’s Friday. I have…an engagement.”
“An engagement?” He laughed. “You sound so businesslike.”
“It is business for me. I have a job, you know. You think it’s cheap to go to Stanford?”
“I thought you had a scholarship.”
“I do. For tuition. Not for room and board. Or books. Or incidentals. So I need to make money.”
“Where do you work?”
“I work for my neighbor. I babysit her two-year-old on Fridays and Saturdays. She works the late shift.”
“Fridays and Saturdays? You’re kidding, right? Those are the nights to party.”
“Well, this may have escaped your notice, Brett, but I’m not much of a partier. We nerds never are.”
He smiled. Then he reached forward and touched her cheek. A tremor raced through her.
