“Do you still love her?”
It might have been a kindness to lie, but James found he couldn’t. “Yes, but not in the same way.”
“Despite what I know, I can’t picture myself not loving Brett.” She straightened and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I suppose I should introduce myself since I’ve cried all over your shoulder. I’m Summer Lawton. From Anaheim.”
“James Wilkens. Seattle.”
They exchanged brief handshakes. Summer lowered her gaze. “I wish I could believe you.”
“Believe me?”
“That it’ll take a year to get over Brett. It doesn’t seem possible. We’ve been dating for nearly five years and got engaged six months ago. My whole life revolved around him.”
At one time James’s life had revolved around Christy.
“We were apart for less than a week,” Summer continued, “and I was so lonely, I practically went through contortions to get to Vegas just so we could be together tonight.”
“The first three months are the most difficult,” he told her, remembering the weeks after the breakup with Christy. “Keep busy. The worst thing to do is stay at home and mope, although that’s exactly what you’ll want to do.”
“You don’t understand,” she insisted. “I really love Brett.”
“I really love Christy.”
“It’s different for a man,” she said.
“Is it really?” he countered. “A year,” he reiterated. “It’ll take a year, but by then you’ll have worked through the pain.”
Her look revealed her doubt.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I just don’t think it’s possible. Not for me. You see, I’m not the type who falls in love at the drop of a hat. I gave everything I had to Brett. It’s like my whole world caved in and there’s nothing left to live for.”
“Shall we test my theory?” he asked.
“How?”
“Meet me back here on New Year’s Eve, one year from tonight.”
“Here? In this gazebo?”
“That’s right,” he said. “Right here.”
“Same time, same place, next year.”
“Same time, same place, next year,” he echoed.
One
Summer picked up the mail on the way into her apartment and shuffled through the usual bills and sales flyers. The envelope was there, just as it had been on the first of the month for the past eleven months. A letter from James.
He couldn’t possibly have any idea how much she looked forward to hearing from him. The first letter had come shortly after they’d met on New Year’s Eve and had been little more than a polite inquiry. She hadn’t written him back mainly because she was embarrassed about spilling her heart out to a complete stranger.
His second letter had arrived February first. He told her about the weeks immediately after his breakup with Christy, how the pain had intensified when he’d expected it to lessen. His honesty and generosity touched her heart. It seemed uncanny that her anguish mirrored his so completely. She wrote back then, just a short note to tell him how she was doing, to thank him for writing.
That was how it had started. James would write at the beginning of every month and she’d answer. Gradually their letters grew in length, but were never any more frequent. She liked the formality of exchanging letters, preferring that to the quick and casual convenience of e-mail.
In the year since Summer had met James Wilkens, she’d been tempted to phone him only once. That was the day Brett got married. Ironically, his wife wasn’t the girl he’d brought to Las Vegas, but someone he’d met recently. Summer had felt wretched and holed herself up in her apartment with a quart of gourmet ice cream and three rented movies. She’d made it through the day with a little fudge swirl and a lot of grit.
Holding James’s letter in her hand, Summer tore open the envelope and started reading on her way into the apartment.
“That’s from your lawyer friend, isn’t it?” Julie, her roommate, asked. Wearing shorts and a halter top, Julie wandered barefoot through the apartment, munching on a carrot.
Summer nodded, kicked off her shoes and lowered herself onto a padded wicker chair. Her eyes never wavered from the page.
“He wants to remind me of our agreement,” Summer said, pleased he hadn’t forgotten.
“Agreement?”
“To meet him in Vegas on New Year’s Eve.”
“Are you going?”
Summer had always planned to follow through on her promise, although she probably should’ve thought twice about meeting a stranger. But he wasn’t really a stranger. She felt she knew James, was comfortable with him. He was a friend, that was all, someone who’d been there when she needed him.
“Are you going?” Julie repeated.
Summer looked up and nodded.
“What’s James like?” Julie asked, sitting across from her. The two of them had been close ever since high school and both of them were in the production at Disneyland. Summer had been especially grateful for Julie’s unwavering friendship in the past year.
“He’s older,” Summer said, chewing the corner of her mouth as she tried to recall everything she could about him. “I’d guess he’s at least forty. Kind of a stuffed shirt, to tell you the truth. He’s about six feet tall and he must work out or something because I remember being surprised by how strong he was.”
“Is he handsome?”
Summer had to smile. “You know, I don’t actually remember.”
“You don’t remember?” Julie was incredulous. “I realize you were upset, but surely you noticed.”
“He has very nice brown eyes and brown hair with some gray in it.” She raised her hand to her own hair and wove a strand around her finger. “I’d say he’s more distinguished-looking than handsome.”
“Is there something romantic going on between the two of you?”
Summer did care for James, but not in the romantic sense. He’d helped her through the most difficult night of her life. Not only had she clung to him and cried on his shoulder, but he’d stayed with her until the early hours of the morning, listening to her pain, comforting and reassuring her.
“We have a lot in common,” was all she’d say to Julie’s question about a romance.
“I have a feeling about you and the mysterious James,” Julie said, her forehead creased in a frown. “I think you’re falling in love.”