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point over the past three years. So excuse me if I don’t have time to do this right here, right now, simply because it’s convenient for you or you find it spooky,” I say, putting air quotes around the word spooky.
    He rolls his eyes. “Cherry, please? Don’t be like this.”
    “Don’t be like what? Seriously Brandon what do you expect me to do? You want me to let you into my car and pretend to be your best friend, sing along with some songs on the radio, and just forget who you are and what you did to me? To us?” Towards the end of my monologue I hear my voice getting a little hysterical and people are, once again, beginning to stare at me.
    Great.
    Maybe I should have stayed in my high school drama class. I obviously have a way of captivating an audience. I could be on Broadway by now.
    Brandon takes a step closer and grabs a hold of my shoulders, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. His hands are warm and firm in their grip and his green eyes are wide and alarmingly serious.
    “I am not asking you to forget, Charity. I just want to talk to you.”
    I am mesmerized for a moment by his soothing tone and soft gaze. But a flashback of me sitting in my room crying over an unworn wedding gown is all it takes to snap myself back to reality.
    “You are out of your mind,” I say as I pull myself from his grip. I hoist my purse up higher on my shoulder and push past him and out the doors.
     
    ***
     
    To his credit, Peter catches up to my frantic pace, his roll-along suitcase bouncing behind him. “Is everything okay? Who was that guy?”
    I shake my head. There’s a lump in my throat and I feel tears building up behind my lashes. “It’s not important. I’m fine. Let’s just go.”
    He doesn’t say anything further, and follows a few steps behind me.
    We wait at the curb until it’s safe to cross. There are men in orange reflector jackets directing traffic and people. As soon as they signal for us to cross, I take off at a brisk pace, thankful I’m still wearing my work shoes and not heels.
    Brandon catches up to us a few moments later. “Cherry! Wait up! Please, hear me out. Let this guy take my car. I have a driver who will take him wherever he wants to go.”
    “Listen, man, I think she’s made it pretty clear she isn’t interested. I think you should maybe back off,” Peter says. He steps between Brandon and me with a hand raised to keep a distance.
    I feel like I’m in shock and nothing is making sense anymore.
    “Charity, I’m going to be in town for the next couple of weeks. If you agree to let me ride with you back to town I promise to leave you alone, if that’s what you want.”
    Brandon has never been particularly fond of the word “no,” and it seems that his new life as a high-profile celebrity has only made that worse. When he sets his sights on something, he’s not going to stop until he gets it. I used to appreciate his tenacity, but right now it’s just annoying.
    “One hour and then you leave me alone?” I repeat.
    “I swear,” he says.
    “Fine.”
    It takes a few minutes to convince Peter that I’m going to be all right and that Brandon is not some sort of crazy axe murderer. I wait until he gets situated in the town car that had originally been sent for Brandon. He gives me his cell phone number just in case I need anything. It is a very sweet gesture, but I assure him that everything will be okay.
    At least I think it will be…
    Brandon follows me to my car, silent for the first time all night.
    Once buckled, I glance at the clock: 9:45. With any luck, by 11:00, I will be home in bed, where I clearly should have stayed this morning.
     

Chapter Six
    “All right, you have my attention. Start talking,” I prompt as I merge onto the freeway.
    Not even in my weirdest dreams would I have imagined something like this happening, but now that it’s in front of me, I have to admit I am curious to see what he has to say. It’s been three years, but considering