“Stop being a jealous jerk. It doesn’t suit you.” I nodded my head at a Hispanic guy with a Mohawk. “That’s Steve, the guy Mila got me an emergency appointment with.”

He brushed imaginary lint from his shirt and sent Steve a lofty look. “I’d much rather see you at a luxury spa, preferably in Manhattan.” He took my hand. “Come on, there’s still time to get out of here. We can get on a plane and be in New York by dinner. I’ll even take you to Vesper’s—that Thai place you loved? It’s still there, just waiting.”

A block from my parents’ Upper East Side apartment, Vesper’s had been my favorite place. We’d met Geoff and his parents there several times over the years.

“First off, I don’t fly, and secondly, I have a hair appointment, so shut your fancy face and come with me.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

The receptionist led me over to Steve, who looked ominous with his six-inch Mohawk and ear gauges. Tattoos of skulls were splattered up his muscled arms.

I sat down in the chair, met Steve, and we talked about my hair. He snapped his fingers and two young girls scurried to stand on either side of him. “Ladies, this is V, a friend of the Vital Rejects. She wants a complete reboot. What do you think?”

Their eyes brightened.

“Ah, sexy Spiderman with the blue hair …”

“… black widow, come bite me …”

“… pierced his nipple once …”

I cocked an eyebrow at their excitement. “I take it they’re good customers?”

They’d continued.

“And Sebastian … dirty talking boy …”

“… god of thunder … be my hammer …”

“… best hair in town …”

I laughed as Steve hushed the girls, who erupted into giggles and left—something about getting foils and color.

“They’re a bunch of sluts.” He grinned good-naturedly. “You with either of those dudes? I promise it’s all in good fun.”

Geoff had stiffened at his question as he flipped through a magazine in a seat a few feet away. It was obvious from how territorial he’d acted last night and from the flowers he’d sent me—he wanted another try with me.

The receptionist came back and poured us two glasses of champagne and set them on a small table next to my chair.

“Let’s make a toast,” I said to Geoff as Steve went to the back to check on the color girls.

He set down his magazine and strolled over. I took him in, my eyes lingering on his designer jeans and golf shirt. He’d bulked up in the past two years, and it didn’t go unnoticed. His brown eyes glittered at my attention. I blushed. Caught.

“What are we toasting to?” he asked as he handed me a glass. I inhaled his aftershave, a spicy blend I’d bought for him on special occasions. I felt flattered he still wore it.

I nibbled on my lip. “I don’t know. Hope? Love? A good haircut?”

He took my glass from me and set it down. “Forget the toast. Let’s talk.”

I nodded. Steve was still in the back.

He sighed. “First off, I would have come out here sooner, but you weren’t ready. I gave you time, and as soon as I finished undergrad this past semester, the only thing I could think of was seeing you.”

I recalled the socialites. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been lonely.”

He shrugged. “I’m no monk. And judging by the sexual tension between you and rocker boy, you’re no nun.”

“I haven’t slept with him—but I wanted to.”

Pain flashed across his face, but he seemed to readjust as he leaned down and touched my cheek. “You left me eighteen months ago because you needed more time to grieve. I rushed you—I see that now. You packed your bags and walked out of my life, but I’ve never forgotten you.” He took in a quick breath. “I—I want you back.”

“You want the old me back.” I couldn’t be the person he wanted.

“Let me get to know the new you,” he said softly, and kissed me on the lips. With gentleness, his lips parted mine, his tongue tasting me. The kiss took me by surprise, yet I fell into it and kissed him back, part of me yearning for my past and someone who had loved me—still loved me?

“At least that part of us hasn’t changed,” he whispered against my lips.

“I’m a college drop-out with a tapping problem,” I murmured.

“You can still go back.”

“You think the Manhattan School of Music would have me?”

A fire lit in his eyes. “I’ll hand in the application myself. Better yet, I’ll call up the chancellor and request a meeting. You were a prodigy, Violet. They’d be nuts to not let you in.”

I tried to picture me sitting in a classroom now. It seemed far-fetched, plus I’d burned bridges when I left. Friends I hadn’t called back. Professors I’d ignored.

“Come back to New York,” he implored.

I sighed. “I have the orphanage to think of. I haven’t been as active as I should have, but that’s going to change. I have a gala to plan.”

He grabbed my hand. “Open another one in New York.”

Perhaps.

But something—or someone—was holding me back.

And then there were all the memories.

My stomach knotted, and I closed my eyes briefly and then met his intense ones. “Geoff, my last night in New York, I stood on the ledge of my apartment building for two hours in the freezing cold debating if I was going to jump or not.”

His eyes flared. “God, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

I stared at my hands. “You didn’t want to know how far I’d cracked. You say you want to get to know me, but the thing is, you may not like the darkness.”

Emotion worked his face. “You’re my heart, Violet, since the moment I saw you. I can’t give up on you.”

And me? I still loved him—in the way you’d love an old movie or a favorite quilt.

Needing a topic change, I picked up our glasses and handed him his. “My parents named me after a comet, so let’s toast to that—to stepping out of the shadows and shining bright.”

“I say we throw a toast to us in there as well. To new beginnings.”