These characters don’t belong to me. I just borrowed them for a while.

Adult content.

It Was Always You

Part Five

by

Jan

Jeff hung up the phone on his desk and just sat staring at it. He felt numb all over and his stomach was twisting itself into a knot. The squad room was hectic with people talking all around him, but it was as if they were only a swirling blur. He had never in his life felt such total and utter anguish.

Frantically, he began racking his brain, trying to come up with any half-way logical explanation as to why his wife would be coming out of an apartment leased under the name of Maxwell Sheffield. Surely, there was some perfectly innocent reason—if only he could think of it. At this point, he would gladly accept any lame excuse anyone might offer.

It had been over a month since he’d spotted that red Porche outside Fran’s Finds and called in the license plate number. He really hadn’t been too surprised when the dispatcher responded telling him it was registered to a Maxwell Sheffield of Manhattan. But it had been easy enough that day for him to concoct a reasonable explanation. Fran and Max, after all, were friends. Probably Max had been in the neighborhood and had just stopped in to say hello.

Jeff remembered thinking all that afternoon about asking Fran why Max had been at her store. But he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, and deep down he knew why. He was absolutely terrified of her answer. And even if she’d given him the answer he’d wanted to hear, he was afraid he might see a hint of deceit in her eyes or notice her stammering around like she was trying to cover herself. So he just kept postponing the question, and after some time, it had become easy to push it all to the back of his mind and convince himself he had nothing to worry about.

But then something odd or inexplicable would happen, and it would all come to the forefront again. Like the day she hadn’t answered her cell phone, so he had called the Manhattan store and Josh had told him she was at the Great Neck shop. Then he had tried to call her there, but instead had to listen to Val stutter through some wild story about why Fran hadn’t arrived yet. So just where the hell was she, he had wondered?

And then there was the time she had left her cell phone lying on the kitchen counter while she was in the shower. It had rung and Jeff had answered it. He said hello but got no response. When he had seen the "call ended" on the read-out, he pressed the info button and took note of the phone number. He had scrolled through her contacts list, and there it was—Max.

And he was still trying to figure out how he had been so wrong about her wanting that silver heart necklace or enjoying a trip to Paris for their anniversary. He had never been that far off before when it came to giving her things that delighted her. Jeff swallowed hard as he wondered if he really knew his wife as well as he thought he did.

And there was one other thing. Max and Laura were going through a divorce. Jeff remembered being so stunned when Fran had told him—the two of them had seemed so happy together the night that he and Fran had been there for dinner. Maybe Laura had learned about Max and Fran’s past, and maybe she had discovered that they hadn’t been able to leave it in the past. He couldn’t help but wonder if Fran had played any part in the split.

Any one of those incidents by itself wouldn’t have meant a thing, but as he started adding them up after seeing Max’s Porche outside Fran’s shop, he finally decided he had to call his old buddy Joe Plummer at the Manhattan precinct or he’d go insane.

Just then, his partner came walking up to his desk. Staring at him, he said, "You all right, man?"

The question startled Jeff out of his daze, and he looked up. "Yeah. Uh, do you think you could cover for me for a couple of hours? I got something I need to do."

"Yeah, sure. Anything I can do to help?"

"No. Thanks though." Jeff got up and headed out to his car. He just needed to get out of there for a while. He had to drive around and clear his head. He got into his car and backed out of his parking space. Pulling out into traffic, he attempted to focus his thinking on what the hell he was going to do with the information he’d just received.

He had called Joe and asked him to find out anything unusual about Maxwell Sheffield, the famous Broadway producer. When Joe had called back the next day and reported that Max had recently rented an apartment near Kissena Park, Jeff wasn’t sure if that had anything to do with Fran, but his detective’s instincts told him there was a definite possibility. So, he had simply asked Joe if he wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Maxwell Sheffield for a few days to see what might turn up.

He had almost convinced himself that all the strange little happenings were mere coincidence. Surely, his beautiful wife whom he loved beyond measure would never do such a thing to him—to them.

Then that phone call a few minutes ago. Joe explained that he had been on his way home from the grocery store when he had spotted the red Porche and decided to follow it. As it moved onto the Long Island Expressway, he had kept his distance, but as a seasoned cop he was able to stay with it. He had watched it pull into the parking lot in front of Building 405 and kept watching as the driver got out and went into a second-floor apartment. After circling the block a few times, Joe had pulled into the lot and found a spot that gave him a clear view of the door to the apartment while being partially hidden by a large tree.

He had waited for well over an hour and had almost given up when the apartment door opened and out came Fran, seemingly in a hurry. Joe had met Fran on several occasions before she and Jeff had moved to Great Neck, and he remembered thinking what a lucky guy Jeff was to have such a gorgeous and charming wife. Now, he just felt sick for his long-time friend. It was pretty obvious what was going on, and it was not the kind of news he wanted to deliver to anyone. But the next morning, he had picked up the phone and made the call. He had told Jeff over and over how sorry he was, but Jeff hadn’t even been able to respond.

Driving mindlessly through the streets of Great Neck, Jeff was careful to avoid Bayside Drive. Had they really been together only six years? It seemed to him as though he’d been loving her his whole life. Until he’d met Fran, he never really understood what it meant to love someone so deeply and so passionately—to give your heart so completely. And despite what he was nearly certain had been going on with her and Max, none of that had changed. He still loved her more than life itself, and he knew he always would no matter what.

Just the day before, Jeff had come home from work and found Fran toiling away over dinner. He had stood outside the kitchen for a few minutes, awestruck by his beautiful wife and the love for her that poured out of him. Standing there watching her had brought back the memory of the first time she had cooked him dinner. And he had felt a warm sensation wash over him as he recalled their tender, sweet lovemaking that night—also a first. He had been so sure then that she was completely his and that she had managed to totally purge herself of Maxwell Sheffield. And maybe she had felt sure of it too, but now, six years later, there were too many doubts.

What in the hell was going to happen to them? Suddenly he was blinded by tears, and he couldn’t see to drive. He spotted an empty store front on the right and pulled into the driveway. He threw the car into park and let his tears flow. The abject state of his marriage overwhelmed him, and he sat in his car for the longest time, as violent sobs made him gasp for air.

After a while, he managed to get his breathing under control and rein in the flow of tears. He sat there staring at the shattered glass of the old store window, exhausted and spent. Rubbing his eyes to try to clear his head, he started thinking. He dismissed his first thought almost before his mind had formed it. There was no way he would divorce her, although he certainly had grounds. But he loved her too much to even imagine living without her.

Then he had another thought. He could just keep everything to himself and act like nothing had happened. At least that way he wouldn’t lose her. But who was he kidding? Even if he did that, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t eventually leave him for Max. Besides, he did have his pride. What kind of a man knowingly allows his wife to carry on an affair just for fear of losing her?

Maybe he would just go to her, tell her what he knew and beg her to end it. He was sure he would be able to work his way through the hurt of her betrayal if she would just promise to never see Max again. Jeff took a deep breath. He had to be honest about the chances of that happening. She had promised that before—even taken a vow—and she hadn’t been able to keep it.

He couldn’t help his mind from going back through all of their time together in a futile attempt to figure out where he’d gone wrong. From the moment he’d realized how much he loved her, he had made it his mission to see to every one of her needs and wants. He’d done everything in his power to make her happy, to give her the life she had always dreamed of. Was there something else he should have done? Where were his mistakes?

Slowly, the realization dawned on him. It wasn’t him. He had done everything right. His only mistake had been falling in love with someone who could never give him all of her heart. He had been fully aware of the relationship between Fran and Max when they’d first started dating. But he had sincerely believed that he loved her enough to overcome that. That by giving himself so completely to her, one day she would be able to take that one little piece of her heart back from Maxwell Sheffield and give it to him. And then she would be his and his alone for the rest of their lives. But it was clear now that he’d been wrong.

The feeling of anguish he’d been experiencing was gradually turning to one of resolve. There was no way in hell he would let her go without a fight. She was his—they had made a solemn vow to each other. Suddenly, he knew just what he was going to do. He started the car, backed out of the driveway, and headed toward the entrance to the Long Island Expressway. He was going to Manhattan. It was time he had a few words with a certain Broadway producer.

*****************

Fran sat in her office at the Manhattan store going over the month’s log. Suddenly, one name jumped off the page at her—Laura Thomas Designs. Again, Fran was overcome with admiration for the woman. In spite of what had happened, Laura continued doing business with her. Such a professional, Fran thought to herself.

Fran put down her pen and leaned back in her chair. She thought back to the first time she and Max had met at the apartment after he’d told her of his impending divorce. She had been so reluctant to go. She had been dealing with such guilt, but Max had been so persuasive. He really did need her now more than ever. As she had driven up to the building, she was determined to convince Max that they really should put things on hold for a while. They both needed some time to deal with their emotions and try to think at least somewhat clearly about the ramifications of their actions. But the instant she was in his arms, that argument just dissipated. Why was it that all rational thought just flew out of her head the moment she felt his lips on hers? She knew the answer to that question. Her love for Maxwell Sheffield held an inexplicable power over her.

But why? It was a baffling question. She knew how much they had hurt Laura, and the mere thought of causing that same hurt to her husband filled her with a debilitating sense of remorse. Jeff was a wonderful husband who had come into her life at the time she had needed him most. And she knew he loved her beyond words, and she loved him too. How could she not love someone who was so willing to do whatever it took to make her happy? She had spent many hours trying to figure out just what in the hell it was about Maxwell Sheffield that drove her to forsake such a perfect marriage.

God knew he would never be the emotional rock that Jeff was. Although he constantly assured her of his love, she worried that his history with Sara and Laura had made it impossible for him to ever be completely in touch with his feelings. Fran had gone through five years of hell waiting for him to come to terms with his emotions and he had hurt her deeply during that time. She felt tears threaten her eyes as she recalled the pain he’d caused when he took back telling her he loved her on their way home from their first trip to Paris. And then the day she’d delivered the ultimatum and he still couldn’t utter the three most precious words had literally torn away a piece of her heart. She wasn’t sure she could ever completely heal from all of that.

But she had finally come to understand that his indecision arose from his own emotional suffering, which had made him wary of giving his heart so completely again. Maybe it was that vulnerability of his that drew her so strongly to him, she thought. Oh, she knew how he liked to appear brash and in control. She felt a small smile creep across her lips as she thought back to the numerous times she’d been summoned to his office with a bellowing, "Miss Fine!" But she also knew that his brashness grew out of the feelings of helplessness he kept hidden inside. Yes, that certainly would explain at least in part why she had fallen in love with him in the first place. He needed her love to smooth over his blustery outer self and shore up his weak inner self. And what he needed from her she was willing to give a hundredfold. That tough outer shell which protected his vulnerability was something that Fran was all too familiar with because it was exactly the way she had survived the pain of many rejections over the years. So, she and Max were a matched set in that department, and that commonality had created a powerful bond between them. And that bond was only strengthened by the years they’d spent pouring so much love and effort into raising Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie together so beautifully.

And to be honest, she couldn’t completely deny that his handsome face, his class and his wealth played an important role in her love for him. After all, the years she’d lived in the Sheffield mansion stood in stark contrast to her upbringing in Queens. The glamorous lifestyle of meeting famous celebrities and going to exciting, star-studded events on the arm of a guy with drop-dead gorgeous looks could certainly sway a girl. All that couldn’t totally explain why she loved him so much, but it was definitely all part of the package that was Maxwell Sheffield.

She took a deep breath and thought about the current state of their affair. Their relationship by its nature had to be clandestine. All the trappings of Max’s sophisticated life were missing, and yet she still found that she loved him more than ever. There was just something about the man himself that inspired a profound and powerful love from her. And the fact that he returned her love and expressed it so openly and willingly now told her that theirs was a love that would last a lifetime.

Fran leaned forward at her desk and rested her forehead against her hands. She thought back to earlier that morning when Jeff had made her breakfast. Sweet, wonderful Jeff. He deserved all the love she could give him. She had to get these thoughts of Max out of her head. She never wanted her husband to be able to look into her eyes and detect even a hint of her divided heart. And she prayed the day would never come when she would be forced to choose between the two men she loved so much.

Fran wondered if she would ever be able to understand it all. But there were a few things she knew for sure. She knew that she loved her husband and cherished the life they had made together. And she knew that no matter what happened, she loved Maxwell Sheffield completely and deeply, and whenever he called, she would be there. She had accepted the truth that, by many standards, giving her love to both men wasn’t right. And by any standard, it certainly wasn’t rational. But the one essential truth she held in her heart of hearts was that loving them both was what was right and rational for her.

******************

Max heard a light rapping on his office door and glanced up to see Niles standing there rather hesitantly. Looking back down at the stack of work in front of him, he asked curtly, "Yes, what is it, Niles? I’m rather busy here as you can see."

"Excuse me, sir, but there’s someone here to see you."

Without looking up, Max said, "I don’t recall having any appointments this morning. Who is it?"

Niles hesitated just briefly before saying, "It’s Detective Sheehan, sir."

Max’s head snapped up as a look of slight panic crossed his face. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"No, sir. He merely asked to see you."

Max cleared his throat nervously and stood up from his chair. He looked around quickly, but seeing no logical means of escape, took a deep breath and said, "Well, show him in, I suppose."

Max tried to strike a casual pose leaning on the side of his desk as he waited for Jeff to be shown to his office. Why in the hell could Jeff be wanting to see him? Surely there were a million reasons—if only he could think of one. Well, any one except that one. "Detective Sheehan, sir," Niles announced and then quickly disappeared, closing the office door behind him.

Max couldn’t help but notice Jeff’s washed-out appearance—pale complexion and sad, sunken eyes. It was obvious to Max that Jeff had somehow learned about him and Fran. And he knew immediately that this was it—the confrontation he had prayed would never happen, that somehow, miraculously, things with Fran would be resolved and he would never have to come face to face with her husband. But that prayer obviously wouldn’t be answered. Max didn’t dare insult the man by offering to shake his hand.

"Jeff," was all he could say.

"Max," Jeff responded.

Suddenly, Max remembered himself. Standing up straight, he stammered, "Oh, I-I’m sorry. Do sit down," as he motioned toward the green loveseat.

"Thanks anyway," Jeff replied, trying to keep the spiteful tone out of his voice. "I think I’d rather stand."

After an awkward silence, Max finally said, "Well, Jeff, what can do for you?"

Jeff took a deep breath and looked directly at him. "I’ll be straight with you, Max. You can stay the hell away from my wife."

Max felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. Trying his best to appear matter-of-fact, he said, "Jeff, I’m sure I don’t know—"

"Don’t insult me," Jeff interrupted. "I’m a detective, remember? I’m an expert on reading an evidence trail. And you’ve left one a mile wide."

Max looked down at the floor and jammed his hands into his pockets. He realized how stupid it was to even attempt a denial. "Jeff, I don’t know what to say. I don’t suppose it would help any to apologize." He looked up at him. "We never intended to hurt—"

Jeff put his hand up to stop him. "Save it," he spat out. Although he had known in his heart it was true, hearing Max acknowledge it cut him like a knife. He felt his anger seething just beneath the surface, but he was determined to remain in control.

With daggers in his eyes, Jeff stated coldly, "My first thought was to make your life a living hell. You know, I still have plenty of connections in the Manhattan precinct."

Max’s qualms began to fade as his defenses came up. His eyes narrowed and his jaw set. There was no way in hell he was going to allow this man come into his house and threaten him, no matter how much cause he had. Speaking crisply, Max said, "That wouldn’t be wise, Detective. I have a few connections of my own."

Jeff continued as if he hadn’t even heard him. "Then I thought better of that. I’m sure the Manhattan Police Department has better things to do with their time than deal with the likes of you. So, I thought I would appeal to your sense of honor as a man, but since you have none…"

"Make your point, Detective," Max shot out.

"I’m going to appeal to the one thing I know means the most to you, and that’s Fran’s well-being. If you continue this, you know it can only hurt her. Haven’t you hurt her enough? Face it, Sheffield, you had your chance to make her happy, and you blew it. You don’t get another one. It’s time that you learn to live with that."

Max just looked at him. He had no argument—he knew Jeff was right. Max understood how difficult it was for Fran to live with her heart divided. He knew how responsible she felt for his and Laura’s divorce. And he realized how agonizing it was for her to cope with her guilt over betraying her wedding vows. He absolutely hated that their love for each other, which should have brought such sweet joy to their lives, was instead something so tawdry and contemptible. Quietly, he asked, "Does Fran know you’re here?"

"No, and she never will," Jeff declared. "Do the right thing, Max. Let her go. If you truly love her, you’ll stay away from her."

Max’s shoulders sagged in defeat. He turned and walked back around his desk. Suddenly, his knees felt weak and he had to grab hold of the edge of his desk to stay upright. "All right," he said without looking up. "You can see yourself out."

Jeff left the office, making long strides toward the front door. He was almost afraid to believe it, but it appeared as though he’d gotten through to him. His breathing was shallow and his hands were shaking, but he could smell victory. All his years as a detective had taught him how to read people, how to discern their weakness and go after it. And with Maxwell Sheffield, the one area where he was most vulnerable was Fran.

Getting quickly into his car, Jeff sped away from the Sheffield mansion, intent on leaving Maxwell Sheffield and all the pain he had caused far behind.

At the same time, Max sat at his desk staring into space. Of all the thoughts deluging his brain, the one that resounded most loudly was that Jeff’s final words had exactly echoed Fran’s plea the day they’d left Paris.

"Is everything all right, sir?" Niles asked gently from the doorway.

Slowly, Max’s gaze went to him. He blinked several times as if just becoming cognizant of some transcendent truth. His voice heavy, he stated, "I have to stay away from her, Niles."

"But, why, sir?"

"Because I truly love her."

****************

Max couldn’t keep from rubbing his hands together anxiously as he paced back and forth in the foyer. "Niles!" he barked as he stopped and faced the direction of the kitchen.

Niles appeared and said in a calm voice, "What is it, sir?" He had to attempt to counter-balance his boss’ nervousness.

"Did you remember to put the champagne on ice?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, it’s quite chilled—same as it was the last three times you asked about it."

"Oh, I’m sorry, old man, but I just want this evening to go perfectly. It just has to be perfect. Perfect enough to last me the rest of my life—" He couldn’t keep his voice from breaking as his last few words came out with a shuddering sob.

Niles’ heart went out to him. He knew only too well how much Mr. Sheffield and his former nanny loved each other, but it seemed they were destined to never quite find the true joy together that they sought. Niles cared for them both dearly, and he desperately wanted their happiness. But it was obvious now that it was just never going to happen. He walked to the front door and peered out the window. "The limo’s just pulling up, sir," he informed his boss.

Max stopped pacing and stood facing the front door. He took a deep breath and tried not to think about what was going to come at the end of their evening. He still wasn’t absolutely sure what he was going to say, but he knew it would be the most difficult thing he’d ever done in his life. How in the hell was he going to tell her that they could never see each other again? How was he going to get the words to come out of his mouth? God, he loved her so much, and he had no idea if, when the time came, he would have the strength to do what he needed to do. But he knew in his heart that it was what was best for her, and she was the only one that mattered.

Niles opened the door, and when Fran stepped inside, Max suddenly felt his breath leave his body. She was an absolute vision in a pale green spaghetti-strap dress that clung to every curve of her stunning body. The color set off her dark hair, which fell in soft curls about her shoulders, as well as her beautiful dark almond eyes. "Niles," she said as he took her wrap. "It’s been a long time."

"Yes, too long," he replied as they hugged. He held her just one second longer than was usual for two friends who had missed each other. But knowing that this was likely to be the last time they would ever see each other, he couldn’t help taking the extra moment to convey his feelings for her.

Fran turned to Max, who stood by the foyer table with his arms outstretched. She moved into his embrace as he wrapped her up tightly against him, drinking in her intoxicating fragrance and relishing the feel of her body so close. She looked directly into his loving green eyes just before capturing his mouth in a kiss that expressed her deep love for him. Niles stood by looking on with a wistful smile. It was not the first time he’d seen the two of them kiss, but he feared it would be the last.

Max took Fran by the hand and led her through the living room and into his office. She paused to look around nostalgically. It had been a long time since she’d been there, and it seemed nothing had changed. "Dinner is being served on the terrace tonight," Max told her. "And this time, it’s just the two of us." The table looked lovely set in elegant china and crystal with soft tapers aglow.

He poured them each a flute of champagne and handed Fran’s to her. He touched the rim of his to hers lightly as he said, "To you, my darling." They each took a sip as they looked deeply into each other’s eyes.

"Everything looks wonderful, Max. It’s such a beautiful night," she said, looking up at the stars.

"Yes, absolutely breathtaking," he pronounced, gazing directly at her. Just then, soft music began playing from inside. "Shall we?" he asked gently. They both set their glasses down and he took her in his arms. They began swaying to the soft rhythm and Fran laid her head on his shoulder, breathing in his Aramis and sighing deeply at the feel of his arms around her.

After some time, she raised her head and looked directly into his eyes. "I love you, Maxwell," she whispered.

"And I love you—always," he told her.

As his mouth descended upon hers in a tender kiss, the next song began and Fran let out a soft moan. It was their song—the one that took them back to Paris and told the story of their deep and enduring love for each other. The soft, gentle kisses continued, one after the other, and grew in intensity as Bonnie’s voice carried the haunting melody all around them.

The song ended, but they were so wrapped up in an intense kiss, they could hear nothing but those words reverberating through their heads: always you, always you.

When Niles cleared his throat quietly behind them, they broke their kiss but not their gaze into each other’s eyes. "Dinner is served, sir," Niles said.

"Thank you, Niles," Max said. As Niles brought the cart up to the table, Fran turned in Max’s arms and leaned back into him. Max slid his arms around her tiny waist and squeezed her to him while they watched Niles place their meal on the table.

When he removed the silver plate covers, Fran’s eyebrows went up and she drew in her breath. "Ooh, what’s all this, Niles?" she asked.

"I was instructed to prepare all your favorites—lobster, twice-baked potato, and I’m sure you’ll be quite pleased with the dessert."

"Cheesecake?" she asked expectantly.

"Raspberry chocolate," he pronounced.

She raised her head and cocked it around slightly to look at Max. "L’Orangerie. You remembered," she said, touched.

He kissed her temple. "I remember everything about Paris. It was the most magnificent week of my life."

She breathed a deep sigh and said, "It is a very special city, isn’t it?" She placed her arms over his and squeezed them to her.

"I’ve been to Paris many times. But it’s only special when we’re there together." He felt a lump form in his throat at the realization that he would never again experience the beautiful French city with the woman he loved.

They were seated and began the delicious dinner that Niles had prepared for them. The stars shone brilliantly down on them and the warm night breezes wafted over them. They spent the time reminiscing about Paris and all that they had done there. They laughed about eating the chocolate-oozing crepes on the sidewalk and recalled dancing at Nigel’s club. As they remembered the jeweler where Max had bought her necklace, he glanced at the milky white skin of her chest and saw the symbol of their undying love resting there.

As the evening wore on, Max felt an ever-increasing sense of dread creep over him. He tried desperately to keep the thought of their impending heartache pushed to the back of his mind. Instead, he focused on how wonderful it was to have her there with him enjoying such a beautiful evening in the home that he knew deep inside they had been meant to share.

After dinner, Max stood up and took Fran’s hand pulling her up into his embrace. He kissed her sweetly and then looked into her dark, sparkling eyes that he loved to get lost in. "How long can you stay?" he asked, praying that by some miracle her answer would be, "Forever."

"Jeff won’t be back until late tomorrow," she told him as she ran her fingers lovingly through the streak of gray that adorned his thick, black waves.

"Then stay with me tonight," he pleaded as he looked deeply into her eyes. His heart soared as he read her acquiescence there. She would be his for one more night—one more glorious night before he had to relinquish her forever.

Without words, Max took his love by the hand and led her up the stairs. As they stepped inside the bedroom, they both looked around briefly and then at each other. The soft light from the already lit candles added to the natural sparkle that emanated from the chocolate pools that were Fran’s eyes. An unspoken thought passed between them. For so many years Fran had dreamed of sharing that bed with Max, of making love to the man of her dreams in that room. And Max had fantasized too about bringing Fran to his bed. And although the circumstances were quite different from their dreams, they both realized that at last they were finally there and they had the whole night before them.

Max pulled her into his arms and began with a slow, deep kiss. Fran responded wholeheartedly, pouring all her love for him into it. She pulled her lips barely from his, but not her tongue, sparring with his, swirling it around his. Slowly, sensuously, she drew her tongue along his jaw up to his left ear, where she gently pulled his earlobe into her mouth and sucked for a brief moment. Feeling her breath in his ear sent such a shiver down his spine as he’d never felt.

Max took her by the hand and led her to the side of the bed. He turned to face her and put his hands on either side of her neck, softly brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. He bent his head to hers and touched her lips with his so lightly she wasn’t sure they had kissed. He tilted his head just barely and brushed her lips again, and then again, changing the angle each time. He wanted to experience her mouth in every possible way, each time breathing "I love you" into her mouth.

He let his hands slide down her neck and across her shoulders, catching the straps of her dress along the way and pulling them down her arms. He reached around behind her and slowly pulled down the zipper, and the dress fell to her waist. He gasped at the sight of her milky white breasts encircling the dark rose peaks, already hardened by his touch. He had seen them many times before, but their beauty always amazed him. He reached his tongue out to one, fighting the urge to draw it into his mouth and suck. Instead, he swirled his tongue around and around, drawing pleasure from the mixture of soft and taut textures. As he withdrew his tongue, gently he blew on the tip, causing her to intake her breath sharply and shiver slightly at the same time. He moved his head over to the other and performed the same magic, causing an identical reaction.

He placed his hands at her waist and gave a slight tug until her dress fell to her ankles. She nudged her shoes from her feet as she stepped out of her dress and then stood before him in only her panties and stockings. Max took one small step backward as he let his eyes wander down and slowly back up, taking in every detail of her while memorizing and admiring. She started to reach up and slide his jacket from his shoulders, but instead he turned her gently and set her on the edge of the bed. He pulled off his jacket and tie, paying no attention to where they landed. His green eyes were locked on her brown ones as he kicked off his shoes and slid off his socks, tossing them aside. It seemed his shirt came off in one motion and joined the heap on the floor.

He knelt in front of her, worshipping her beautiful face. Without removing his eyes from hers, he reached down and gently lifted her leg. He ran his hand lightly to the top of her stocking and, catching the edge, brought it down her thigh, then her calf, and off the tips of her toes. He tore his eyes from hers to look down in awe at the contours of her firm and shapely legs. He placed a soft kiss inside her thigh, then her knee and then her ankle. Then he turned his attention to her other leg, performing the same procedure and ending with the light kiss inside her ankle. He looked back up and captured her eyes as she sat mesmerized by his languid movements.

Fran leaned forward to place a sensuous kiss on his mouth. He drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked on it, gently at first, and then harder and harder until she let out a small cry. He nudged hers back into her mouth with his own, begging her to do the same. She was thrilled to oblige, suckling it sensuously and then drawing on it with increasing intensity until a deep moan rose up from him.

He reached up his hands and placed them gently on her shoulders, nudging her backwards until she rested on the bed, her feet still touching the floor. He leaned over her and stared as his eyes were suddenly captured by the picture she made with her raven hair fanned out on the bed, framing her beautiful face. Bringing his lips down to her chest, he picked up the double floating heart with his mouth and pressed it between his lips, memorizing the feel of the intertwined hearts. He deposited the pendant back onto her smooth skin and drew a trail with his wet tongue from that spot all the way down to her navel. He paused briefly to bathe it and then continued the trail to the top of her panties. She felt his fingers lightly brush her hips and then catch the lace and slide it down. She lifted her hips barely off the bed to allow the panties to continue their journey down her legs, all while Max’s wet tongue was making circles punctuated by tiny nips and kisses across her belly. He sat back to bring the panties smoothly down her calves and then off her feet.

He raised back up on his knees and looked deeply into her eyes as she lay there entranced by his actions. Without removing his gaze, he placed a hand under each of her knees and began gently lifting while sliding his arms under her legs. When her bent knees rested in the crooks of his elbows, she was completely open to him, and he tore his eyes from hers to look down at her. His breath caught at how beautiful she was, and all he could think of was tasting her. But he had to remind himself to remain unhurried, to make it last all night long. He leaned in slowly as he heard her moan in anticipation of his touch. Lightly, his tongue grazed her swollen nub, then again, and again, as he felt her fingers sliding through his hair.

"Max, please," came out of her as part whisper and part moan. He placed his mouth over the rosette and drew the tip firmly between his lips, pulling and sucking hard and then releasing it only to swirl his tongue around and around it. She tried to rock her hips, but he held them off the bed with her legs wide apart. Just as she thought the circling motion of his tongue would drive her insane, he stopped to suck the nub into his mouth again until she let out a desperate plea for him to stop.

He continued this pattern over and over again until one sharp intake of air told Max that her climax had hit her hard. He continued the circling and sucking as she pulsated all around his mouth while letting out a series of soft little cries. Gently, he lowered her hips back down to the bed and leaned forward to lay his head on her stomach as she experienced the last few waves. He felt her fingers sliding through his hair and he heard her issue a long, satisfied, "Mmm," but he knew that this was only the beginning of their final night together.

Max lifted his head and looked at her. He saw her glistening eyes and knew how much he’d pleased her. Raising back up on his knees, he stood up. He was anxious to be rid of anything that would keep him from totally experiencing the wonders of her body. He quickly unzipped his pants and shoved them down. As he reached for the waistband of his boxers, Fran sat up and placed her hands on his and pulled downward. As soon as his firm manhood was revealed to her, she reached for it with both hands, guiding it toward her mouth. Max held himself back and reached down to crook his finger under her chin and lift her eyes to his.

"Tonight is all about you, my darling," he told her.

"But, Max," she started to protest as he got onto the bed and moved to the middle of it. He took her hand and pulled her to him, wrapping her up in his arms and silencing her with a heated kiss. His manhood was hard against her stomach, and she reached between them to grasp and stroke it gently. Max felt himself grow harder in her hand, and he knew he wouldn’t last long at that pace.

He rolled her over onto her back and began a trail of kisses across her face and down her neck. He felt her hands massaging his shoulders and back. He slid his body down, and when his lips reached her breast, this time he allowed himself to take it fully in his mouth and suck while running his tongue around and around the tip of it inside his mouth. His hand kneaded the other, brushing his thumb across the tip before taking it between his thumb and forefinger and squeezing gently. He moved his head to that breast and took it in his mouth, sucking gently at first and then harder and harder until she let out a little mewling cry.

He pushed himself farther down as he left hot, wet kisses all over her stomach. As Fran realized his intention, she said, "Oh, God, Max." She wasn’t sure she could handle another climax so soon. But he was driven to make the night the most memorable of their lives together, so he ignored her half-hearted protests as he slid his hands under her and cupped her bottom to hold her steady as he again used his tongue to send erotic surges through her body. Starting at the top, he dragged his tongue down the length of her and then back up again, stopping to once again to suck on her clit. She inhaled deeply at the sensation, barely able to tolerate his touch, her last orgasm having left her so sensitive.

Max smiled to himself as he pressed her to him and trailed his tongue lower, seeking entrance to her. He swirled his tongue around and around her silky folds teasing her and withdrawing over and over until he heard her whimper, "Do it." He plunged his tongue deeply inside her and held it there, drinking her in as he felt her fingernails clutching the skin of his shoulders. In and out he drove, feeling her writhing in his hands and listening to her breathing become faster and deeper until at last she let out a scream that reverberated through the room. He drank in her essence as it spilled from her and held her tightly to him as she succumbed to the convulsions that overtook her body. He held her there patiently until he felt her begin to relax. He lifted his head to look up at her, and this time saw the tears that escaped from her beautiful brown eyes and rolled down her face.

"Maxwell," she mouthed, unable to find her voice. "Please, I can’t take any more." He moved up to take her in his arms and cradle her, holding her soothingly and stroking her hair. He couldn’t remember ever being so hard and so ready to plunge himself into her, but he knew he wasn’t finished pleasing her and making it the most glorious night of lovemaking in her life. So he concentrated on calming himself down while he waited patiently for her to recover.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. She saw in his eyes all his love for her and knew that she would never know a love more intense and more pure than the one he held for her in that moment. If they never saw each other again after that night, she could spend the rest of her life sure that she was totally and completely loved by her Maxwell.

Again, she felt his hardness between them and a desire welled up in her to give him the same pleasure he had bestowed upon her. She pushed on his shoulder until he rolled over on his back, and with a sweet smile on her face, she climbed atop him and straddled him, positioning herself just right until she felt him nudge her entrance. He reached for her hips and steadied her, helping to guide her onto him. She was so wet from her two orgasms that she slid down on him easily. They let out matching sighs as she settled her weight on him, his manhood completely buried in her.

Fran began slowly grinding her hips around and around in a clockwise motion, picking up speed and then suddenly stopping and reversing her direction. A slow smile spread across his face as he watched her with her eyes half closed, focused on experiencing the intense pleasure of feeling him filling her so fully. She braced herself with her hands against his chest and he placed both his hands on her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as he brushed his thumbs across her nipples, heightening the tingling sensations that surged throughout her body. Using her knees as springs, she lifted and dropped herself again and again, pulling him nearly all the way out of her and then plunging him deeply inside.

Max was fighting his release with such determination. He wanted to watch her come one more time, for it would be the last time for the rest of his life. He was joyous at the sound of her moans, rising from deep within her, and he knew if he could only hold out a few more seconds he would achieve his goal. He closed his eyes, knowing that watching her in the throes of passion only made holding back more difficult. Her short, rapid breaths told him that she was close and he knew he was only seconds from exploding. He grabbed her by the waist and flipped her over staying deep within her. She let out a small cry and her head fell back as it hit the pillow.

He began driving into her, pounding her with all his strength. He felt her hands on his backside, squeezing and digging into his flesh. His strokes were rapid and long. Within seconds he felt her inner walls begin to convulse and pull at him as she moaned, "Oh, God, Maxwell!" That was it for him. He had never released so explosively in his life, driving himself hard inside her and pouring every drop of himself into her. He clutched her to him as they floated together on the waves of their final ecstasy.

For the next few moments, sorrow could not supplant the joy he felt over having pleased her to such an extent as he experienced one last magnificent night of making love to her. Before he could even control his breathing, he was determined to exact a vow from her. Gasping still for air, he said, "Fran, promise…promise me."

"Anything, Maxwell," she breathed.

He raised his head and looked deeply into her eyes. Choking on his earnestness, he said, "Promise me you’ll always remember this night and how very much I love you."

A brief look of concern crossed her face as she gazed at him intently and wondered why he was in such need of reassurance at that moment. But she could read the disquiet in his eyes, so she placed her hands on both sides of his head and told him with every ounce of her conviction, "I promise."

Max breathed a huge sigh of relief and laid his head to rest next to hers on the pillow. There was so much he wanted to give her, but life-long love was all he would be allowed. And maybe, just maybe, with her vow to always remember that, he would be able to survive the agony of living the rest of his life without her.

****************

Max lay there looking up at the ceiling listening to the soft rhythm of Fran’s breathing as she slept peacefully with her head on his chest. He had barely dozed in the last few hours, fighting sleep and choosing instead to watch her and drink in the joy of having her with him in his bed and wrapped up in his arms. He couldn’t stand the thought of missing even one second of this final night with her.

Her arm was draped across his stomach, and he ran his fingers lightly up and down it, memorizing the feel of her silky skin. She shivered slightly as she stirred. As she raised her head and opened her sleepy eyes, a slow smile crept across her face. "Good morning," she murmured.

"Good morning," he smiled back at her. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm—I always sleep well in your arms." She laid her head back down and squeezed her arms around him.

"What do you want to do this morning?" he asked gently.

"Stay here in bed with you," she replied without hesitating.

"Well, I’m very flattered then," he said slightly amused.

She raised up her head and looked at him with that disarming little grin that made his heart literally melt. "Why?"

"Knowing you, I figured your answer would have something to do with food."

She let out one of her throaty laughs and said, "You know me too well, Maxwell Sheffield." Then she added, "You do realize that you’re the one who caused me to work up such a healthy appetite."

He smiled at the beautiful memory of their glorious lovemaking the night before. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her completely on top of him. "Then I guess it’s my job to take care of that. So, which is it? Stay here in bed or eat breakfast?"

She rested her chin on his chest and looked into his green eyes that were so full of love for her. Then her own eyes narrowed just a bit at the slight stirring she felt between them. Clearing her throat, she said, "Well, I was going to suggest breakfast in bed, but suddenly I feel another idea creeping up on me."

"Oh, yeah? What idea is that?" he asked with a little smirk.

"You know perfectly well what idea I’m talking about, and I have to say that the thought of it is definitely growing on me."

"Well, if it’s such a good idea, maybe you should share it with me."

"Mmm—it’s more than good. It’s huge, and I think you’re the one who’ll be sharing." She dropped her knees down on either side of his hips and, and grabbing hold of his shoulders, pulled herself forward until she felt his swollen manhood just at her opening. With a sly grin, she eased herself back until he entered her. She paused for just a moment so they could savor the sensation of it and then continued sliding down until he was completely encased within her. She laid her head on his chest and breathed in the smell of his skin as both sets of hips began rocking in unison gently and playfully. Soon they both felt a throbbing pick up in intensity as their breathing became more rapid. Max’s hands roamed up and down her back and slid lower to massage her bottom, relishing the feel of every contour of her body. The vigor of his upward thrusts grew as he felt her fingers clinging tightly to the flesh of his upper arms.

At that moment there was a light rapping at the bedroom door. Their rhythmic movements stilled as Fran’s head snapped up and they looked at each other with saucer eyes. She started to slide off of him and head for the bathroom, but instead, Max held her tightly to him, not ready yet to yield the blissful feeling of her body lying atop with his manhood buried deep inside her. He cleared his throat and called out a bit out of breath, "Yes, Niles?"

"Pardon me, sir, but I thought you might be wanting some breakfast," Niles spoke out from the other side of the door.

Fran swallowed hard at the thought of Niles striding into the room and seeing them like that. Again, she started to squirm, but Max held her tight. "Hold still," he told her. "I’ve got you covered." He reached down and pulled up the comforter, making sure it was safely tucked around her. "Yes, thank you, Niles. Come in."

The door opened and in walked Niles pushing the breakfast cart while keeping his eyes tastefully averted from the bed. An overnight bag was slung over his shoulder. He brought the cart to a stop and set the bag on the loveseat. He turned toward Max said, "Sir, I took the liberty of going and collecting a few things for Miss Fi--, um, Mrs.--, um—"

Just then Fran raised her head and rolled just slightly to look at him. "Good morning, Niles," she said with a sly little grin.

Niles cleared his throat and replied, "Good morning." Although his face registered mild surprise at the position he’d found them in, he couldn’t help but think that it was exactly the way they should be every morning.

"Thank you for bringing my things," Fran said.

"You’re very welcome. Will there be anything else, sir?" He headed for the door knowing that what they really wanted of him was to make a quick exit.

"No, that’ll be all for now," Max said, stifling a small chuckle.

Fran giggled a bit as the door shut. But her laughter turned to deep intakes of air as Max’s hands clamped onto her waist and he resumed driving himself upward into her. She felt the pulsating inside her intensify until it burst into spasms that convulsed her body as Maxwell let out a yell from deep in his chest. He shot his essence up into her lifting them both off the bed with the force of his upward thrust. Fran clung to him as she literally rode him while the shock waves coursed through both their bodies. She emitted a long, satisfied sigh as they drifted down together from their high.

After her breathing calmed, she raised her head and looked into Max’s face. "I can’t believe you did that to poor Niles. Do you want to give him another heart attack?"

He smiled at her as he brushed a few damp strands of hair from her forehead. "Niles will be fine. I just wasn’t ready to let you go yet." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, their true significance hit him like a ton of bricks, and Max felt his stomach begin to churn as a wave of dread washed over him.

Fran saw the strange look that passed over his face, and she placed her hand tenderly on his cheek. "Sweetie, are you ok?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

Max took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He gazed deeply into her beautiful brown eyes for a long moment before he could find his voice. Finally, he croaked out, "I’m fine, sweetheart. Why don’t I go start the shower running?" He lifted her gently off of him and slid out of bed. Fran lay there looking after him a bit puzzled at his sudden change of mood.

Max turned on the shower and stepped inside before the water had a chance to warm up. He needed the cold to yank him out of his sullen state. But as soon as the streams of water began pouring down his face, his tears joined them. For the next several minutes, he allowed his grief to overtake him as intense sobs coursed through his body. Today was the day that he would send away the love of his life, and the thought of that was simply too much to bear. He would never be with her again, and he dreaded the feelings of utter loss that he knew he would have to deal with the rest of his life.

He gasped for air as tried to get himself under control. He couldn’t let her see him like this. He had to focus on his aim. He was doing this for her, to save her the same heartache he was feeling at that moment. He knew for certain that if things continued the way they were, no good could ever come of it. He had to let her go. He had to give her back that small piece of her heart he’d been treasuring, hoarding for himself. He loved her so much that he simply had to ensure her happiness by setting her free to love Jeff completely. His own sacrifice would allow her to commit herself to her marriage and her life with her husband. It was the only way, but it meant life-long heartbreak for Max.

Out in the bedroom, Fran had slipped out of bed and scampered over to the breakfast cart. She picked up a grape and popped it into her mouth. Then she snuck a couple of bites of the bagel and a sip of orange juice. She knew she should wait for Max, but she was really hungry.

Max realized that Fran would soon start wondering what was going on with him in there. The water had had plenty of time to warm up. He took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. "Hey," he called out from the shower. "I could use some company in here!"

Fran tore off a hunk of the bagel and headed into the bathroom. She opened the shower door and took just a second to admire how unbelievably cute he was wet with his hair plastered to his forehead and water running in his eyes. "Here," she said. "Stick your head out here."

Max leaned away from the water and Fran tore off a hunk of the cinnamon bagel, stuffing it into his mouth. She stuck the rest of the piece into her own mouth and stepped into the stall closing the door behind her.

"Hey, you’re blocking the water," she whined half-heartedly.

"Sorry," he said as he traded places with her. He took her in his arms and pulled her to him. His mouth reached for hers as he held her body against his. His kisses were tender and meaningful. Her hands slid up and down his back, savoring the feel of every muscle.

They took turns washing each other, slowly but playfully. When Fran reached for the shampoo, Max took it out of her hand and said, "Let me. Please." He took his time lathering her long tresses and luxuriating in the feel of letting them slide through his fingers. He rinsed the suds thoroughly from her hair and then kissed the top of her head.

At last they stepped out and dried off. Fran ran to her overnight bag and pulled out a pink thong. She slithered into it and then looked through the bag to see what Niles had selected for her to wear that day. She was pleased with his choices—a soft, jersey skirt and one of her favorite tops—but there was nothing comfortable to lounge in and she wasn’t ready to dress yet for the day. She turned to Max who was just coming out of the bathroom toweling his hair. "Do you have a t-shirt or something I can borrow?"

"Why?" he asked. "I find the outfit you’re wearing rather becoming."

Grinning coyly, she said, "I’m sure you do. A t-shirt, please?"

He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers for himself and a soft white t-shirt for Fran. He tossed the shirt to her and then pulled on the boxers. Stopping in his tracks, he watched her slide into the shirt that engulfed her small frame. He continued to stare entranced as she reached into her bag, took out a comb, and began pulling it through her long black tresses. She was such a natural beauty that even with wet hair, no make-up, and a shapeless shirt, she still took his breath away.

She tossed the comb back into her bag and looked at him. "What?" she asked, perplexed by his gaze.

"Um, uh, coffee?" he stammered.

"You’re kidding, right?" she teased.

They went to the cart and filled their plates with fruit and a shared Danish. Max poured them each a cup of coffee. They climbed back into bed and began enjoying their breakfast heartily. Max lay on his side propped on an elbow while Fran faced him cross-legged.

Slowly, Max began to realize that the moment of truth was nearly upon them and he found each bite of his breakfast more difficult to swallow than the last. Trying to postpone his lie as long as possible, he attempted some light-hearted conversation. "So, busy week ahead at the shop?"

"Yeah, I’ve got a lot to take care of before I leave town Wednesday. Jeff and I are going on a cruise—I’m sure I told you." She started to add that it was in celebration of their sixth anniversary, but stopped herself just in time. There was no need to remind him that it had been six years since she and Max had met that painful crossroads when she had walked out the door.

"Oh, yes, of course. Well, that sounds very nice." He tried to push back the memories of the tropical cruise that he and Fran had enjoyed so many years ago. Dwelling on the things they would never do together again wasn’t helping him any.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What? Oh, well, actually I do have a rather full schedule this week. A meeting with my lawyer on Monday, and then, of course, the court date later this week."

"Oh, my gosh, sweetie, I had almost forgotten about that. Are you going to be ok?" Fran leaned over and set her coffee down on the nightstand. She reached over and placed her hand tenderly on his cheek.

Max took a deep breath and tossed the last bite of his Danish back down on his plate. "Well, I’m not exactly looking forward to it. It will be the first time Laura and I have seen each other since she moved out. But the lawyers have pretty much taken care of everything. My meeting with Chandler on Monday is just to go over some last minute details. There shouldn’t be any surprises."

Obviously, Max had been right about Laura—she had a lot of class. She had promised an amicable divorce and that seemed to be what was happening. If Laura were going to share her suspicions with Jeff, she would have done it already. Fran breathed a sigh of relief thinking that for now, at least, Jeff would be spared the hurt that Laura was going through.

"Still, it has to be hard. I’m sorry that you have to go through all of that." Suddenly, Fran wasn’t hungry anymore. She did feel sorry for Max, but the truth was that she was sorry for so much more. Sorry for Laura, sorry for the role she had played in all of it. She set their plates aside as the seriousness of their situation came rushing to her. They had had a wonderful night and morning together, but what Max had just told her had been a painful shot of reality. The whole mess kept both of them on such an emotional roller coaster that Fran couldn’t help thinking once again that it might be wise to put things between them on hold for a while.

She was hesitant to bring it up. She had suggested it a couple of times before, and the idea of it seemed to send Max into a panic. She realized how much he needed her, but she couldn’t help thinking that some time away from each other would give them both a chance to get a handle on their feelings of guilt over hurting Laura. She was going to be gone for almost a week anyway. Maybe that would serve as the start of some time apart that could really be helpful. She studied the sad look in his eyes and ran her fingers through his damp hair.

Max just lay there staring at some unknown spot across the room. He wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with the legal matters facing him that week and he did feel a strong sense of remorse for what he’d put Laura through, but none of that could compare to the way his heart was breaking over the thought that it was the end for him and Fran. He’d been in love with her for so long now, and he knew he would love her deeply until the day he died. He knew the moment to tell her was upon him, and he felt a numbness permeate his entire body.

Fran uncrossed her legs and rolled toward him, snuggling her back up against him and pulling his arm over her. She had decided to broach the subject with him again, and she would be more insistent this time to counter any argument he might come up with. "Sweetie," she said gently, "maybe you and I should take a break from each other for a while. We both need some time to deal with—you know, everything."

Slowly her suggestion worked its way through Max’s heavy thoughts. She was offering a separation, and although the mere thought of it shook him to the core, it was definitely the solution he needed. It would allow him some time to figure out a way to make the separation permanent. "I think that’s probably a good idea," he said hoarsely as he squeezed his arm around her and kissed the side of her head.

Fran opened her mouth to argue when what he’d said dawned on her. He’d agreed. Had she heard him right? A million thoughts raced through her mind as to why he’d acquiesced so readily this time. She started to ask him if he was sure, but stopped herself. Time apart would help. It would give them a chance to see things more clearly and to come to terms with the guilt they’d been feeling, she told herself. Still, she found it a bit unsettling that he’d suddenly changed his mind on the issue. She swallowed hard and whispered, "Ok."

It was at that moment that Max felt his heart literally break in two. He tightened his arm around her and fought his tears. He was glad she hadn’t asked him why he’d changed his mind because he knew he couldn’t have come up with a plausible excuse. And he was thankful she hadn’t wavered because he was sure he would have given in immediately. But mostly he was grateful that she hadn’t turned around and read the terrible lie that he was certain was portrayed in his eyes.

*****************

Fran squeezed her eyes against the bright Caribbean sun. She adjusted her sunglasses and let her head rest on the back of her chaise lined up among the others on the pool deck of the Princess cruise ship. She placed her left elbow on the armrest and let her hand dangle down alongside her. It brushed lightly against a pair of fingers that immediately intertwined with hers. She rolled her head to the left and looked at her husband, who, except for the fact that his hand had just grasped onto hers, appeared to be asleep. It was the last day of their cruise, and they had decided to just take it easy and relax poolside.

The five days had been filled with a whirlwind of activities, but it was coming to a close and they savored the opportunity to just wind down and enjoy being together. Fran lifted her head slightly, looked at their clasped hands, and then laid her head back, allowing her mind to drift back over the things they had done together over the last several days. She reminisced about splashing their feet through the surf as they’d walked hand in hand along the beautiful white sand beach, about watching the crimson and orange sunset from the deck of the ship, and about exploring the little native markets in search of souvenir treasures. It had all been great fun, but it seemed as though a sense of déjà vu hung over her every place they went. She had strolled that beach and admired that sunset years before with Maxwell. And every little market they had stepped inside had seemed identical to the ones she had visited with Max. She was reminded of him everywhere they went, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Every time Jeff had suggested some activity, she had thrown herself into it, thinking that perhaps she would be able to push Max out of her thoughts and completely enjoy the experience with her husband. But the night before when he’d wanted to enter the mambo contest, she’d refused to even consider it. He had tried and tried to coax her into it, reminding her of just how much they had always loved to dance, but she was adamant. She was just too overcome with thoughts about how gallant Max had been to step in and save her the night that Steve character had been arrested as a stow-away. Only Max could understand how terribly vulnerable she’d been falling for that guy’s charms, and as soon as he’d seen a crack in that tough exterior of hers, he’d begged her to let him be the man of her dreams—at least for that one dance. Little did they both realize that night that Maxwell could have been the man of her dreams for the rest of their lives.

Although Jeff appeared totally relaxed as he lounged on the poolside chaise, his mind was turning steadily as he took himself back over their days together on the cruise. He had so enjoyed their time there, appreciating the opportunity it had given them to really connect without all the distractions of their jobs and their busy lives. But while it should have been a magical time for the two of them, he couldn’t help thinking that Fran never quite seemed to be totally with him, and he feared he knew the reason.

As they had watched the sunset from the deck of the ship, he had stolen a glance at her and seen more than the red-gold of the sun reflected in her eyes. He could read a distant memory there, and he knew her mind had taken her back to another time and another love. As they had strolled barefoot along the white sandy beach, he had wondered whose hand she dreamed she was holding. And as they had scoured the little markets for shopping treasures, he couldn’t help but see a noticeable lack of her usual enthusiasm for her favorite pastime.

Patience, he told himself. It was going to take time for her to get Maxwell Sheffield out of her system. And there was really no way of telling how long it would take. He supposed it depended on the extent of the relationship between the two of them. Could he dare to hope that it was nothing more than physical attraction? That, he thought, would take less time for her to get over. But he knew his wife, and he was well aware of how she poured her whole heart into anything she did, so he was reasonably sure it was much more than that. He wondered if Max truly loved her. For Fran’s sake, Jeff had to hope that Max wasn’t just toying with her for his own amusement. As much as he hated the idea of another man in love with his wife, it would just be too devastating for her to find out that it had all just been a game to him. Besides, no matter how much Max loved her, Jeff was absolutely certain his own love for her was far greater. And in the end, that tremendous love he held for her would win out. He had to keep telling himself that.

Thinking like this always brought up the most painful question. How much did Fran love Maxwell Sheffield? And more importantly, how long was it going to take for her to get over him? Did she love Max more than she loved him? For now, all he could do was pray that time away from Max would show Fran that she could live without him because her heart truly belonged in her marriage.

Jeff was reasonably satisfied that they had made a good start. This cruise had given them the chance to be together far away from Maxwell Sheffield and any temptation he might offer. And it appeared as though Max was following Jeff’s stern request to stay away from Fran. A few phone calls before they’d left on the cruise told Jeff that Max had relinquished his lease on that apartment near Kissena Park. Fran had been so busy getting ready to leave town, Jeff knew she hadn’t had time to see Max. Well, there was last weekend when he’d had some out-of-town business to attend to…

Fran drew in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. Her mind had conjured up an image of their anniversary dinner. Jeff had looked so handsome that night in his navy Armani, and she had felt so special in the pale pink designer dress he’d bought her for the occasion. The romantic atmosphere of the private dining room along with the exquisite wine and delicious food had made for a very special evening. As they had toasted to each other, she remembered once again just how thankful she was that Jeff had come into her life at a time when she’d needed him so much. He was a wonderful husband and she loved him dearly. When he had pulled out the little narrow box with the light pink ribbon, she had been quite taken with his thoughtfulness. She had opened it and recognized the bracelet she’d seen that day in the jeweler’s window, and she breathed a tiny sigh of relief that he hadn’t selected the silver heart pendant instead. As she had leaned over to give him a thank-you kiss, her hand had gone instinctively to the double floating heart hanging from her neck.

At the same moment, Jeff’s thoughts were also taking him back to the night of their anniversary dinner. He recalled the instant she had taken his breath away in that light pink dress that contrasted with her dark eyes so beautifully. Everything had been perfect that night—the table, the food, the wine, and the romantic music that made him want to draw her into his arms and never let her go. And she had seemed happy with the bracelet he’d given her. He rolled his head slightly to the right and opened one eye to look at it dangling from her wrist. Then he moved his head just a bit farther to see if she was still wearing that damned necklace. There it was—resting against her skin. What was it about that one piece of jewelry that made it so special she never wore any other necklace? Had Max given it to her? He thought back trying to remember when she had started wearing it. Two Paris trips ago. Suddenly, it struck him. He remembered thinking that she hadn’t been herself after that trip and that necklace had been around her neck ever since. There was no question in his mind now as to who had given it to her and why she never took it off. No wonder she’d turned up her nose at the silver heart pendant he’d wanted to buy her for their anniversary. He felt his jaw clinch as he made a solemn vow to himself. As soon as they got home he was going back to that jeweler on Bayside Drive and he was going to buy that silver necklace. And then he was going to pray for the day that he could look at her and not see those God damned double hearts. That would be the day that he could be certain she had gotten over Maxwell Sheffield and was completely his, and he would clasp his silver heart around her neck. As he continued peeking at the hateful thing, her right hand came up and reached for it, fingering the intertwined hearts as she let out a sigh.

Jeff squeezed his eyes shut and fought the wetness he felt collecting in the corners of them. She was thinking about Max—it was obvious. Possessively, he wrapped his fingers more tightly around hers. He needed to make a connection, had to bring her back to him. What was she thinking? About being in Max’s arms? About feeling his lips on hers? Jeff felt a sudden shot of pain as his imagination betrayed him and he saw the two of them kissing, laughing, doing God knows what during the week they’d spent in Paris together. As a detective, he knew to rely on hard evidence, but none was needed in light of the gut feeling he had right now about that week.

Fran had felt Jeff squeeze her fingers, but that hadn’t interrupted her stream of thoughts about Maxwell. She wondered what he was doing right then. She wondered what it would feel like to have him next to her now touching her hand. She thought about how ironic it was that the court date for his final divorce proceeding was the exact same day as her and Jeff’s anniversary. As Max was dealing with the end of his marriage, she was celebrating another year of hers. Max had assured her that there wouldn’t be any surprises, but she couldn’t help that little nagging worry that maybe at the last minute, Laura had decided to get a little revenge by making things more difficult or by naming her as the cause of the split. But if Laura had contacted Jeff with her suspicions, he hadn’t shown any signs of it. Surely if he had any idea, he would have confronted her and demanded an explanation or insisted that she stay away from him or maybe even threaten divorce. Wouldn’t he?

The thought of hurting Jeff the way Laura had been hurt sent a wave of remorseful pain through her. God, she wished things were different. How did her life get so complicated? She didn’t know the answer to that, but one thing she did know for sure was that her love for Maxwell was so deep and so powerful that there was nothing that could ever sway her from being with him and loving him. Even at the risk of causing pain to Jeff, whom she loved very much. The love that she and Max shared held an inexplicable power over all of them.

If she needed any proof of that, all she had to do was think back to the night of their anniversary dinner. The whole evening had been so romantic, and when she and Jeff had gone back to their cabin, they could hardly wait to begin the sweet and tender lovemaking. His passionate kisses had driven her quickly toward the edge as she had craved the feel of his hands on her body.

Anyone passing by her on the ship’s deck at that moment would have looked at her and wondered what in the world she had been thinking to cause such a disconcerted look to cross her face. They would have understood if only they could have realized what it had felt like to make love to your husband on the night of your anniversary and not be able to dispel the mental image of the other man you loved so much. Looking into blue eyes and seeing green ones had been very unsettling.

Maybe it was just that she was missing Max. They hadn’t spoken to each other in over a week now—ever since that morning after such an unbelievable night of lovemaking when he’d agreed that they should put things on hold for a while. And maybe it was just a little unnerving not knowing when she would see him again. Just how long was "for a while"?

Fran decided that as soon as she got back to New York, she would give him a call. After all, they had agreed not to see each other—they hadn’t said anything about not speaking to each other. She needed to find out how things had gone in court the week before and she needed to know how he was handling all of it. Besides, she just really needed to hear the sound of his voice again. But she had to be ready to counter the pressure he was sure to put on her to get together. They needed time apart—for both their sakes. And she was determined to give him the time he needed to completely come to terms with the end of his marriage. That was the way it was going to have to be. But hopefully, that wouldn’t take too long. She was already starting to miss him, and having no idea when she would see him again made her only think about him and want to be with him more.

"Fran?" Jeff said gently. Getting no response from her, he opened his eyes and turned to look at his beautiful wife as she lounged in the tropical sun. "Fran?" he tried again with still no response. Just as he began to wonder how long she could go on daydreaming about her other love, he felt her fingers begin to slide from between his. At the last instant, he tried to catch the tips of her fingers, but they pulled away and his grasp on them was lost.

****************

Max sat at his desk looking through a stack of potential scripts. He’d been working on the pile for three days, but it didn’t seem to be getting any smaller. Maybe that was because he couldn’t keep his mind on what he was reading. He finally closed the one in front of him and tossed it among the rejects. He told himself to just pick up the next one, open it, and start reading. He knew the only way he was going to be strong enough to get through this ordeal of letting Fran go was to pour himself into his work, and right now that meant plowing through those scripts. But instead, his hand reached out and picked up Fran’s picture. Now that Laura was gone, he didn’t have to hide it in a drawer. He could leave it sitting out on his desk so he could look at it any time he wanted to. But that was the problem. He wanted to look at it all the time, and that only made it more painful to think that he couldn’t be with her anymore.

In fact, he had several photos of her displayed right out there on the corner of his desk, and he found his attention drawn to them constantly. He just couldn’t stop gazing at that gorgeous smile and those sparkling eyes that totally captivated him. He loved all the pictures, but his favorite was the one of her and the kids that had been snapped on the cruise they had all taken together. That was the one he was holding in his hand when his cell phone rang. He picked up his phone and checked the read-out. His heart suddenly surged when he saw her name. It took everything in his power to keep from answering it. He set it back down on his desk and willed the damn thing to stop ringing. Finally, after six rings it stopped, and Max took a deep breath and tried to get his hands to quit shaking.

He thought to himself that she must be home from her cruise. He let his mind wander back to the Caribbean cruise that she and Val had taken several years before. He smiled to himself as he thought about how clever he’d been inventing a way for him and the kids to tag along. Yes, making Brighton’s confirmation a big "Bar Mitzvah-like to-do" had provided the perfect excuse for him to go and keep tabs on her. And good thing, too. He shuddered to think how devastated she would have been after that chap with the uneven nostrils got himself arrested right before the big Mambo contest. Thank God Max had been able to step in and be the man of her dreams for that one dance. He let his mind drift to all the wonderful things they’d done together on that trip—walking along the beach, exploring the little shops, and, oh, that glorious sunset they’d watched together from the ship’s deck. He couldn’t help wondering what she and Jeff had done on their cruise and if she had thought about him at all. He knew he’d been thinking about her constantly since the last time they’d been together.

Just then, his phone beeped, signaling that he had a voice mail. He didn’t have to pick it up and look--he knew it was from her. As difficult as he could have possibly imagined staying away from her was going to be, this was tougher. Every instinct screamed at him to pick up the phone, call her back, and tell her how much he loved her and wanted to see her. But he steeled himself and fought his instincts. He had to stay focused on his goal to set her free. He knew he was being selfish wanting her for himself when she belonged to someone else. Jeff had been right—he’d had his chance to make her happy, and he’d blown it. Continuing their affair could only bring her heartbreak. He’d already hurt her so much over the years, and he loved her far too much to keep causing her pain.

Max grabbed the next script off the stack and opened the front cover. He only had to read the first line of the synopsis before slamming it shut again: "Two former lovers encounter one another after many years…" He picked it up and hurled it against the office door.

He rubbed his temples with his fingertips and then picked up his cell phone and flipped it open. It would be torture, but he simply had to listen to her message. Besides, what was he going to do? Never speak to her again? After all, he’d left her with the impression that they were only putting things on hold for a while. He was going to have to talk to her eventually in order to explain somehow that the separation was permanent. He was supposed to be using this time away from her to come up with some kind of justification as to why they should stop seeing each other. But how in the hell was he supposed to do that? She’d never believe him if he told her that he didn’t love her anymore. Their last time together, he’d made her promise to always remember how very much he loved her. And there was the necklace that reminded her of it every day. And he couldn’t tell her he’d fallen for someone else—hell, he’d just gotten a divorce. She’d never believe that.

There was one thing, though, that he was nearly certain would work. It had crossed his mind several times, but he’d dismissed the idea almost immediately. He just didn’t think he could bring himself to do it because he knew it would absolutely crush her heart, and the thought of hurting her so much was abhorrent to him. But he had begun to realize that he had to be willing to hurt her now so that she could be free to love her husband completely and be happy with him the rest of her life. A toll must be exacted now for the greater good it would serve in the long run. So, he was starting to think that the best thing he could do for her was to just take it all back. Just like he’d done after their first trip to Paris.

He could say that he was feeling too much remorse over what he’d done to Laura, and he just didn’t know when he might comes to grips with it. He could even add that he still harbored a fear that things wouldn’t work out between them. She knew what an emotional basket case he was. She’d confessed to him that day in the restaurant that she would always carry that nagging doubt in the back of her mind that one day he would take it all back again. So, if she thought he was such an emotional wreck, he could just pretend to be one, and he was pretty sure she would believe him. In fact, considering his track record with her, she probably expected it of him.

The truth was that he was an emotional wreck, but not because he was unsure of his feelings or because he had too much guilt over Laura or because he was afraid of intimacy or that things wouldn’t work out or because of any of those feelings that had paralyzed him six years ago when he’d made the biggest mistake of his life and let her walk out that door. It was the debilitating sorrow he lived with every day knowing that she wasn’t in his life—would never be in his life again. He had seriously considered begging her to leave Jeff and marry him. But she’d made it clear the day they left Paris that that wasn’t an option. She’d stated without hesitation that she still loved her husband and wanted to stay with him. No, Max just had to face the fact that she belonged to someone else. Their time together had passed.

He punched in his password and held his breath waiting for the shock that would jolt his body when he heard her voice. He literally flinched when he heard, "Hi, sweetie." God, how was he going to live without being able to hear that voice? He fought the lump in his throat as he listened to the rest of it. "I wanted to let you know that I’m back in town, and I was just wondering how things went in court last week. Give me a call when you have a few minutes and let me know how you’re doing. I love you. Bye."

He hit the button to save the message. It wasn’t as if he needed any kind of a reminder that she had called, but that he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep from torturing himself by playing it over and over whenever he missed her too much. His first instinct was to call her right back—to tell her he loved her, he missed her, and he was dying to see her. But his plan called for doing whatever was the opposite of his instincts. So, he would wait—at least until later that night and maybe even until tomorrow. That way, he would have plenty of time to think about what he would say and practice it a few times so that he would sound convincing. Also, waiting would be a way to make her start doubting him. Yes, it would kill him, but he had to put off returning that message.

Just then, Niles came walking into his office bringing his morning tea. Max waited until Niles poured him a cup and handed it to him. He took a sip and said, "Niles, I want you to take my cell phone and keep it for me until late this evening. No, make that tomorrow morning. In fact, I want you to hide it and not let me know where it is. No matter how many times I ask for it, or demand it, or threaten to fire you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Niles stated with his forehead furrowed. This had to be one of the more bizarre requests Mr. Sheffield had ever made of him. Then, a realization came over him, and he nodded his head knowingly. "Let me guess, sir. This has something to do with Miss Fine—I mean, Mrs. Sheehan."

Max’s head snapped up as he glared at his butler. Niles immediately began stammering, trying to get out an apology. "I’m—I’m sorry, I mean, pardon me, sir. I didn’t mean to remind you that she—"

"Please! May we simply refer to her as Fran?"

"Yes, of course, sir. My apologies, sir. I’ll take your phone now. When would you like for me to return it?"

Max thought for just a minute. This really was ridiculous. He realized if he couldn’t keep himself from talking to her, he could just call her at her Manhattan shop or even look up her home number. This little stunt ranked right up there with the time he’d had Niles unplug all the phones in case Elizabeth Taylor called looking for her pearls. But somehow, having Niles in on it seemed to bolster his resolve. "Um, not until 11:00 AM. I mean it, Niles. Not a minute before."

"Yes, sir," said Niles slipping the phone into his pocket and collecting the tray. As he left the office, he shook his head slightly at his boss’ outlandish strategy. But, the truth was that it did serve to point out just how desperate he was.

When Niles handed over the cell phone at 11:00 AM sharp the next morning, Max flipped it open and saw that Fran had left another message the evening before. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the farce he was about to enact.

Niles slipped quietly out of the office as Max pressed Fran’s speed-dial number and waited. She answered on the second ring. "Max?" she said. He could hear the anxious note in her voice.

"Hi, Fran. How are you?" he asked.

"I’m fine." She paused for a moment, trying to remember the last time he’d called her "Fran" instead of "sweetheart" or "darling." "Didn’t you get my messages yesterday?"

"Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, I did, but I was very busy at the theater." He paused briefly before asking, "So, how was your trip?"

"It was wonderful," she said, a little unsettled by his stand-offish tone. She started to tell him that he was on her mind the whole time and that every place she and Jeff went reminded her of the time they were there together. But for some reason, his odd demeanor made her hold back. "Well, I was just wondering how things went in court last week."

"It all went very smoothly. Really, just a few technicalities to settle," he replied.

Fran was taken aback just a bit. Was he feeding her cursory answers, or was it her imagination? "What I meant, honey, was how you’re feeling about everything. Are you ok?"

Max wanted to tell her the truth—that he was regretful of what he’d put Laura through and that he was thankful that she had been so gracious about everything, but mostly he was just glad to put it all behind him. And, yes, he was doing just fine about the divorce. In fact, it hardly ever crossed his mind these days because he was too caught up in thinking about her constantly. But that answer wouldn’t help him carry out his scheme.

Clearing his throat, he stated, "Well, actually, it all has weighed a little more heavily on me than I expected. I mean, seeing Laura again was harder than I thought it was going to be. I just feel so damned guilty for what I put her through. And you know me, I don’t really handle guilt too well." He paused for a second to let that comment sink in. She was only too aware of how long it had taken him to deal with his guilt over Sara. "I know I told you that I wasn’t really feeling guilty about betraying her, but after she found out about us, well, I have to admit that I do just feel awful about it. I’ve been trying to work my way through it, but it may take some time." He was so glad he wasn’t telling her such a boldface lie in person. He knew he wasn’t that good an actor.

"Sweetie, I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. It makes me just want to come over there and wrap you up in my arms and hold you until you feel better." She paused, thinking that she should be more careful what she said to him. She was surprised he hadn’t yet pressured her to see him. But she knew what "seeing" him would mean, and if he was already feeling guilty about hurting Laura, making passionate love to her was certainly not going to help him. Fran had to be strong about this.

Max continued, "I appreciate that, Fran, but this is something I really need to work out on my own."

"Sure, honey. I understand. Just please tell me you’ll call me if you need someone to talk to," Fran urged him.

"Thank you," he stated solemnly.

The fact that he didn’t actually promise to call her was not lost on her. The whole conversation was causing a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Hearing nothing but silence from the other end, Fran finally said, "All right, sweetie. I guess I’ll talk to you later. I love you."

"Yes, and thank you for being so concerned. Like I said, I’ll be fine. I just need some time. Good-bye," he said, hanging up.

"Bye." Fran just sat there stunned. She had expected him to tell her how much he’d been missing her. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d argued that they had put things on hold long enough and he needed her. She would have bet that he was going to beg her to see him. But he hadn’t said any of those things. And what really knocked her for a loop was the one very important thing he didn’t say. She had told him she loved him, and he’d replied with a thank-you for her concern? She thought back through their conversation. Maybe he’d said it and she’d missed it. What in the hell was going on with him? That was the first time they’d spoken to each other since Paris that Max hadn’t told her he loved her. She reached up and fingered her floating hearts delicately.

That strange feeling in the pit of her stomach was turning into a sinking one. This all had an eerie familiarity to it. She’d been witness too many times to Maxwell practically tripping over himself as he back-pedaled in their relationship. She couldn’t believe this was happening. How many times would she allow Maxwell Sheffield to do this to her?

Maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe he was just feeling remorseful over Laura and needed some more time to deal with it. She prayed that was all it was. If there was one thing she had learned over the years, it was that Max couldn’t be rushed when it came to dealing with his emotions. She breathed in a deep sigh and flipped her phone closed. More time. If that’s what he needed from her right now, then that’s what she would have to give him.

At the same time, Max sat at his desk with his face buried in his hands. His stomach was churning and his mind was going a mile a minute. What must she be thinking of him right now? That he was a cad? That he was a self-absorbed ass? That he was a spineless coward not worthy of her love? He wouldn’t have been surprised if she were thinking all those things, because that’s exactly how he felt. He had heard the shock and hurt in her voice. God, it had killed him doing that to her. But he had taken the first step, and as hard as it had been, he knew the next one would be only harder. He could do it, he told himself. He had to. For her. Her happiness was worth every bit of anguish and torture he was putting himself through.

Just then, Niles came into his office and looked at his boss with concern. "I take it you made the phone call and things didn’t go well," he said.

"That’s just it, Niles. Things went only too well. Too bloody well indeed."

******************

Fran lay in bed listening to the water run in the shower. Jeff would be finished in a few minutes, and then he would be coming into the bedroom and asking her why she was still in bed when it was long past time for her to be up and getting ready for work. She wouldn’t be able to put it off much longer.

She rolled over on her side and curled up in a ball. Drawing her knees up made the discomfort in her stomach subside slightly. She had never experienced morning sickness, so she wasn’t sure that this is what it felt like. But she’d had plenty of experience with having her stomach churn from the stress that came with loving Maxwell Sheffield, and that could certainly explain what she had been feeling the last few days. But could that also explain why she was almost a week late?

As if her life wasn’t complicated enough, now she had to worry that she might be pregnant. How could this have happened? She was nearly certain she hadn’t messed up on taking her pills. But with things so crazy lately, maybe she had. For the hundredth time that week, she started calculating in her head when her period should have started. On the eleventh, she was thinking, but no later than the twelfth, and here it was the seventeenth.

She had maybe another five minutes before she would have to get out of bed and go into the bathroom to start getting ready for work. Otherwise, she’d have to make up another lie to Jeff. At least then she’d know one way or another if she’d started her period. She drew her knees up more tightly. Maybe she would start in the next five minutes. Maybe in that short span the queasiness in her stomach would turn into cramps. Her imagination was running wild, and mixing it with the dread of an unwanted pregnancy was a deadly cocktail.

Unwanted? Where did that come from? It wasn’t so much that she didn’t want to be pregnant, but that she sure as hell didn’t want to deal with all the consequences that would come along with it. She knew Jeff wanted a baby. He’d been pushing her to have one since soon after they were married. But she had always held him off. She couldn’t explain exactly why—she just wasn’t ready. She had wanted to concentrate on her business and their marriage, she kept telling him.

And then Max had come back into her life and had really complicated things. And she couldn’t see any way things could be more complicated than they were right then. Could this baby be Max’s? All the calculating she’d been doing the last few days included a desperate attempt to answer that question. And no matter how many different ways she’d figured it, the truth was that she didn’t know for sure if it was Max’s or Jeff’s. Just one of the perils of loving two men at the same time.

And what if it was Max’s? She hadn’t even talked to him for weeks, but it was pretty safe to assume that he wouldn’t want to have a baby with her. Hell, it was starting to look as though he didn’t even want her anymore. But the really strange thing was—the thing she could barely even admit to herself—was that if it was Max’s baby, she wanted it. Having a child with Maxwell was something she’d dreamed about since the day almost ten years before when she’d first realized that she was in love with him. And even though their future together was so uncertain now, that dream had not waned. It was all part of her desire to become a real mother to Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie, and just the idea that she might be carrying their little brother or sister inside pleased her so much.

God, what in the hell was the matter with her? Jeff was a loving, devoted husband who would be thrilled that they were having a baby, but she was in a panic over it. And Max would be alarmed at the prospect of having a baby, but she was captivated by the idea. None of it made any sense. All she knew was what she was feeling in her heart.

She heard Jeff finishing up in the bathroom and threw back the covers. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Getting out of bed, she hurried into the bathroom just as he was coming out of it and heading toward the closet. "Good morning, honey," he said

"Good morning," she called back as she shut the door behind her and started the shower running again. Her stomach was still a bit queasy, and the discomfort was definitely not cramps. She got undressed quickly, but there was really no need to look. As she stepped into the stall and let the water wash down over her face, she made the decision to stop at the pharmacy on her way to work and pick up a pregnancy test. There really was no need to live in such turmoil. It really was time to find out one way or another.

An hour later, she stood in the tiny restroom of her Manhattan store staring at the pink stick in her hand. A flood of relief washed over her. Negative. Thank God! Immediately, her mind started making a list of all the potential problems that had just been erased by that little pink stick—whose baby it was, whether or not she wanted it, whether or not she was ready for a baby. And not to even mention what it might be like one day if Jeff found out that he’d been raising someone else’s child as his own. Or what Max would do when he found out she might be carrying his child. God, it was all too much to even comprehend. She was just so grateful that she wouldn’t have to deal with all of it.

Then her thoughts turned to why she was so late. Could there be something wrong with her? She placed the pregnancy test in the bottom of the trash can and headed back to her desk. After looking up Dr. Reynolds’ number, she dialed it and left her a message. Then she dialed Val at the Great Neck store.

"False alarm, Val," were the first words out of her mouth.

"Oh, Fran, thank God! You must be so relieved," Val said.

"Yeah, relieved doesn’t begin to describe it," Fran told her, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt a strangeness come over her. Her sense of relief should have been immense, but this one was tempered a bit. She wasn’t quite sure what it was.

"Are you doing ok?" Val asked, concern in her voice.

"I’m ok. Hanging in there," Fran said, trying to sound more certain than she was.

Val hesitated before voicing her next question. Finally, she ventured, "Heard from Max?" She heard Fran sigh deeply on the other end and she knew the answer. Quickly, she interjected, "He’ll call any day now. Just give him a little more time."

"Thanks, Val," Fran said. She really appreciated Val’s attempt at being supportive, but with everything else that had been deluging her brain all morning, she really couldn’t deal with trying to figure out why Max was remaining so distant. "I gotta go now, Val," she said. "The doctor might be trying to call me back."

After Fran hung up, she just sat staring into space. That eerie feeling still hung over her, but she just couldn’t put a name to it. Just then, the phone rang and she answered it. It was Dr. Reynolds.

Fran explained what had been going on with her and then asked, "How reliable are those tests? I mean, could I be pregnant and still get a negative reading?’

"The tests are very reliable, Fran," Dr. Reynolds explained. "There’s any number of other reasons you could be late. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

"Oh, Dr. Reynolds, I couldn’t even begin to tell you," Fran confessed. She felt tears well up in her eyes.

"I’ll tell you what, Fran. Try to calm down and relax. Give it a few more days. If you still haven’t started, come in and see me, but I really think it won’t be necessary."

"Ok. Thanks, Dr. Reynolds," Fran said as she wiped her tears with the heels of her hands. She hung up thinking about Dr. Reynolds’ advice.

Calm down and relax? Just how the hell was she supposed to do that? She took a deep breath and concentrated on how lucky she was that it had been a false alarm. Lucky. Then why didn’t she feel so lucky? Slowly, she began to realize what it was that was keeping her from feeling totally relieved. A vague feeling of disappointment. Yes, she was so glad not to have to deal with all the dire consequences of an unplanned pregnancy in her life right now, but the truth was she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that she wasn’t having a baby. Hell, she might as well be completely honest with herself. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that she wasn’t having Max’s baby.

*********************

Fran stood motionless staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror with her damp hair clinging to her forehead. She reached for a tissue and mopped up the never-ending streams that cascaded out of her red, swollen eyes. What in the hell was she going to do about all that puffiness? She looked like hell. She couldn’t go into work looking like that. People would be asking what the matter was, and she was at a complete loss as to how she could possibly answer that.

She was so thankful that Jeff had worked late the night before. She had absolutely no idea how she would have explained her tears to him if he’d been home. By the time he had crawled into bed next to her early that morning, she had drifted off into a fitful sleep, so she hadn’t had to face him. And then she had hopped out of bed and into the shower before he woke up. Thankfully, that shampoo in the eyes line had worked on him again at breakfast. She hadn’t used that one since the day she had arrived back home from her week in Paris with Max.

How in the world would she have been able to explain to him why she couldn’t stop crying? She simply had to get herself together. She had to push aside the heartache and focus her attention on the things she knew she could count on—Jeff’s undying love, his determination to be everything she ever needed or wanted, and the wonderful life they had built together. And if she was going to be able to do that, she knew what the first step had to be.

She dabbed at her tears again and blinked several times trying to clear her vision. Then she allowed her eyes to move down and focus on the double floating hearts. For more than two years, since the week with Max that had changed her life, she had seen those hearts every time she looked into a mirror. And how many times a day had she looked down at them and seen them resting there? Two hearts, forever intertwined, which served as a constant reminder of Max’s deep and abiding love for her. She stared transfixed at them until her vision blurred again. She wiped the tears away and threw the tissue on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she reached up behind her neck to take hold of the clasp. Her hands were shaking so much, she couldn’t get a grip on the thing. Finally, she managed to catch her thumbnail on the tiny lever and attempted to slide it. It wouldn’t budge. It hadn’t been opened since the day Max had placed it around her neck in that little jewelry shop in Paris. The memory came flooding back to her as her mind conjured up the image of Max kissing her and vowing that he would love her for the rest of his life.

For a full five minutes she kept trying to slide the clasp open. Her fingers became so numb she couldn’t really tell what she had a hold of anymore. She sighed deeply and dropped her arms to her side. The God damned thing must be stuck, she thought. How was she going to get that necklace off? What if she couldn’t get it off? What if she was doomed to wear the hateful thing and be reminded every day for the rest of her life that Maxwell Sheffield had broken her heart again? And after she’d given herself to him so completely, after she’d sacrificed so much for him, after she’d trusted that at last he was being honest about his feelings. She reached her left hand up to the pendant, clinched her fist around it, and started to yank as hard as she could. She’d be rid of the vile thing one way or another. But something stopped her. Some unknown force wouldn’t let her destroy the symbol of their love. "Damn it, Maxwell!" she wailed. "Let go of me!"

She dropped her head and closed her eyes as she thought back to their lunch date the day before. She recalled the way her heart had started pounding when her cell phone had rung yesterday morning and she had seen his name on the read-out. How many months had it been since he’d called her? They had only spoken on the phone a few times since her return from her cruise, and every time she was the one who had made the call. And each phone conversation had illustrated the growing distance between them.

She had walked into the restaurant afraid to hope that his wanting to see her meant he had finally come to terms with his feelings and was ready to resume their loving and passionate relationship. Surely that’s why he had called her, she had told herself. But their phone conversation had been very brief. He had simply stated that he really needed to talk to her and that he had reservations for one o’clock at the Russian Tea Room. Of course she had agreed without hesitation to meet him. While she had understood completely that he had needed time to deal with the pain of his divorce, she had been missing him so much and felt that it really was time to get things between them back on track.

But as soon as she had seen him sitting there, staring at his hands as he wrung them nervously, she knew that her hopes were all for naught. She had tried to keep the quiver out of her voice as she told him hello and attempted to battle the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as he held her chair for her. He’d only given her a quick peck on the cheek, but she’d rationalized that they were in a public restaurant, and that had they been alone, surely he would have swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately. She recalled when the sinking feeling had turned into a cold numbness that slowly permeated her entire body as Max went on and on about why they couldn’t see each other anymore.

She had just sat there taking small sips of her water in a vain attempt to clear the lump from her throat. He had said something about still feeling so damned guilty about what he’d done to Laura, and then just for good measure he’d tossed in something about wanting to make sure she never had to go through the same thing with Jeff. Then he had launched into an explanation of how he felt bad about making her live with a divided heart. She had just sat there not responding. She allowed him to do the talking and forced him to explain in detail the reasons for his decision. She was determined not to make it easy on him.

Finally, she had held up her hand to stop the parade of excuses. She’d looked at him directly and demanded that he tell her the truth. "Maxwell," she had pleaded, "just tell me what this is really all about. What’s in your heart?"

He couldn’t look at her. With his eyes staring at his hands, he had taken a deep breath and said, "The truth is that this time away from you has shown me that we can survive without each other. In fact, I think it’s best if we stay apart." He had looked up at her then and seen that she was too shocked to say anything, so he forged on. "And, really, what kind of a relationship do we have? As long as you are married, we can’t go places together, you can’t share my successes with me, we can’t be together at family celebrations. That’s no kind of relationship."

No kind of relationship? How could he just dismiss all the things they had done together and the glorious love they had shared? She’d sat back with her arms crossed in front of her, peering at him with her eyes narrowed for a long moment. Finally, she had said, "Just admit it, Maxwell. After all these years and all we’ve been through together, you’re still not sure what you want, so you’re taking it all back again."

He had taken a deep breath and looked back down at his hands. "All right, I admit it. I’m still afraid of committing my heart completely to you, so, yes, I suppose I’m taking it back."

"Don’t even think about pulling that friends crap on me again," she had warned him.

He’d looked at her earnestly. "No, I wouldn’t think of insulting you like that again. But I do still care very deeply for you, and I’m sure that will never change."

She had rolled her eyes at him. "Do you have any idea how much I hate it when you tell me you ‘care very deeply’ for me?"

"I’m sorry, Fran. I truly am," he had told her very quietly as he averted his eyes once more.

Fran looked back up at her reflection in the mirror as Max’s apology reverberated through her head. In the harsh glare of the vanity light, she could see the truth. No matter how many times Max had told her he loved her, there was just something about her that prevented him from giving himself completely to her. He could give her all the excuses in the world about how screwed up he was emotionally, but the fact remained that he would never love her as she wanted to be loved by him, as she needed to be loved by him. Not the way Jeff loved her, anyway.

She reached her hands behind her head again, took hold of the clasp, caught the lever with her thumbnail and slid it open easily. She gathered the necklace in her hand and looked at it for the longest time. Then she looked again at her reflection and saw that her tears had stopped.

A few eye drops and some make-up tricks would help hide the traces of her hours of crying, she told herself. As she closed her fingers around the necklace, she swore an oath that Maxwell Sheffield had hurt her for the last time. She walked over to her jewelry box and opened it. She dropped the necklace into the bottom and shut the lid on it, determined to push Max as far into the past as she could and dedicate herself to the one man she knew for sure deserved all her love.

******************

Max stood in the shower letting the steaming water pound on his head and wash down over him. He hadn’t moved his body for the last twenty minutes, but his mind was racing. He’d done it, he kept telling himself. He’d set her free. He almost felt like calling Jeff and saying, "There you go. She’s all yours now." It had taken him nearly two months to make the break final. All those weeks of torture culminated in that look on her face yesterday at the Russian Tea Room—the look that put an exclamation point on the whole sordid mess.

He was alone now. Completely and utterly alone, and he knew for certain that he would live the rest of his life alone because he had given his whole heart over to Fran and he would love her as much as any man could love a woman as long as he lived. But she would never be his, so he had to start accepting the idea that his chances for happiness had all gone by.

She must have known the instant she saw him yesterday, wringing his hands and looking so distraught. And he could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew what was coming. He had been right about one thing. That business about taking it all back had worked. Even after all they had done together and as many times as he had professed his undying love for her, still she readily accepted that he was such an emotional mess that he could just take back his love. God, what must she think of him? He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and squeeze his eyes shut against the water streaming down his face.

He washed quickly and stepped out of the shower. He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist as he went to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. Running his fingers through his hair, he caught his reflection and wasn’t surprised at what he saw. His pale, washed-out complexion and tired, sad eyes were the outward signs of the recent toll that had been taken on his heart.

By the time she had left the restaurant yesterday, Max could tell how devastated she was. It had taken everything in him to keep from jumping up, pulling her into his arms, confessing that it had all been lies and begging her to forgive him. When she had stood up and walked away, he’d had to literally grab onto the table to stop himself from running after her.

At least she still had the necklace, he told himself. Even though he’d never again be able to tell her how much he loved her, those floating hearts would remind her every day. It wasn’t much in comparison to the way he longed to express his love, but, in light of the circumstances, it would have to serve.

He walked out into the bedroom and pressed the intercom button. When Niles responded, Max instructed him, "Call C.C. and tell her I’m not feeling well today. If there’s anything that can’t wait until tomorrow, ask her to please take care of it herself." With that, he removed the towel from around him and slid back into his pajamas. He walked over and fell back into bed, pulling the covers up over his head. He just couldn’t face the world today—couldn’t face his world, anyway, because Fran was no longer part of it, and that made it a more painful place than he could possibly endure.

*****************

Jeff drove through the streets of Great Neck on his way home from work. He was so glad to be getting off a little early that day. He had worked late the night before and he really needed to catch up on his rest. He was looking forward to spending a nice, quiet evening with Fran.

He hoped she was in a better mood than she had been lately. Of course, he had to be honest with himself about why she had been moping around and out of sorts so much of late. He knew she was dealing with what was going on—or, hopefully, not going on—between her and Max. He tried to think back to how much time had passed since his man-to-man talk with Maxwell Sheffield. Almost two months, and it looked as though Max had been a man of his word. Apparently, Jeff had really gotten to him that day by telling him that staying away from Fran was what was best for her, because all signs of the affair had disappeared, and in their place was Fran’s moody behavior.

Joe Plummer had checked in with him a few times to let him know that he hadn’t spotted Fran and Max together since that one time at the apartment. No strange hang-ups on Fran’s cell, and as far as Jeff could tell, there hadn’t been any unaccounted-for periods of time in her schedule. Not that he was checking up on her, but whenever he had tried to get a hold of her, she was always right where he expected her to be. He wondered how much longer it was going to take for her to get Maxwell Sheffield completely out of her heart. But whatever amount of time it took, Jeff knew for certain that he would be able to wait it out because his patience was a direct outgrowth of his tremendous love for her. If it took another twenty years, he would stay by her side and support her because that’s how much he loved her.

He pulled into the driveway and hit the garage door button. He was surprised that Fran’s car wasn’t there. Suddenly, he felt the old fear and suspicion grip him. She should be home by now. Where was she? Was she with him? He grabbed his cell phone and hit her speed-dial number. She answered immediately.

"Hi, honey," she said.

"Hi, baby. I just got home. Did you get tied up at the store?"

"Yeah, but I’m on my way now. The traffic’s pretty heavy, though. I should be home in about forty-five minutes."

Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. But he couldn’t help noticing that her voice lacked its usual spark. "Sweetheart, you sound like you don’t feel very well," he ventured.

How could she explain to him that she was physically and mentally drained from all that she had been wrestling with? Thoughts of Max had threatened to overwhelm her all day, and it had taken every bit of her strength to push them aside and focus her attention on her work. She was so glad to be on her way home to Jeff’s loving and comforting arms. That, she knew, was the only thing that would help her keep her sanity. As usual, Jeff would be the emotional rock she needed to get through this.

"I’m just really tired. Exhausted, actually. I just had a really long day at the shop," she explained, hoping her excuse sounded believable.

"I’ll tell you what," he offered. "I’ll go ahead and start dinner, and when you get home you can take a nice, long bath, and by that time dinner will be ready. How does my famous eggplant parmesan sound?"

Fran took a deep breath and glanced skyward. Thank God for Jeff. "That sounds wonderful, honey. I’ll see you in a little while." As she snapped her cell phone shut, she fleetingly wondered if Max would have ever cooked her dinner because she was tired. "Damn it!" she thought to herself. She had to stop comparing the two of them. There was only one man in her life now, and he was wonderful and sweet and loving and so unbelievably understanding. She was a lucky girl, and that’s what she needed to stay focused on.

She finally pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine. She dragged herself out of the car and up the steps, so glad to be home and surrounded by the things that kept her grounded. She walked into the kitchen to see Jeff standing at the stove. "Hi, baby," he tossed over his shoulder without turning around. "Dinner’s coming along. You just take it easy and I’ll take care of everything."

She set down her purse and keys and without a word walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him as she laid her head against his back and squeezed him to her. She breathed in deeply and drew strength from him. Holding him close to her heart felt so good, so right. This was where her life was centered, and she savored the feeling.

"Rough day?" he asked sympathetically.

"Um-hum," she replied, a slight whine to her voice. God, if he only knew just how rough, she thought. "I’m gonna go soak for a while. Thanks for being so sweet, honey."

"Anything for my baby," he answered, glancing at her back as she walked out of the kitchen toward the bedroom.

It was nearly an hour later when Fran came padding into the dining room in the short aqua robe and with her hair pulled up off her neck. The smells coming out of the kitchen were divine. "Can I help?" she asked half-heartedly.

"No, I’ve got it handled," he replied, carrying several plates to the table. They both sat down, and Jeff dished out their dinner.

Fran took a bite and said, "Mmm, this is so good, honey."

Jeff had just shoved a forkful into his mouth when he looked at Fran and saw it—or, rather, didn’t see it. The necklace. The opening of her robe fell nearly to her breasts, and he could see that those God damned hearts were gone. He almost choked on his food. His eyes shot open and he grabbed for his napkin while he coughed and tried to get the food to go down.

"Honey, are you ok?" Fran asked, concerned.

After a few seconds, Jeff recovered himself enough to eek out, "I’m fine, honey. Excuse me." He jumped up and ran into the kitchen. Oh, my God, he couldn’t believe it! He paced back and forth and tried to repress the urge to go out there, grab her out of her chair and spin her around just like the night she’d finally confessed her love for him on that dance floor. This was pure glory. It was as if he’d won her heart all over again, and he knew then that he was the happiest man on earth. He felt like shouting and jumping up and down, but he couldn’t let her know. He grabbed a couple of wine glasses and a bottle of chardonnay out of the frig.

He started to head back into the dining room when he had a sudden thought. That little box from the jewelry shop on Bayside Drive was screaming at him from his dresser drawer. Was it too soon? He wavered for just a second before realizing that he couldn’t wait another day to see that silver heart hanging from her neck. Besides, what could she do? Refuse to accept it? He set the wine and glasses down on the counter and hurried into the bedroom. He rummaged quickly through his drawer until he found the box. Slipping it into his pocket, he headed back through the kitchen and scooped up the wine along the way. He went back into the dining room and started opening the bottle.

"What’s this?" she asked.

"I just felt a little like celebrating," he said, unable to contain the huge smile on his handsome face.

"Celebrating what?" she posed innocently, taking another bite of her dinner.

"Celebrating us," he declared. He popped the cork from the bottle and filled her glass. Then he poured his own and sat back down in his chair.

Fran smiled across the table at him. Jeff’s loving attention to detail was just what she needed that night. They held up their glasses and touched rims. "To us," they repeated after each other.

Jeff reached into his pocket and took out the little box. When he held it toward her, she looked at it for a second and then looked up at him with a puzzled expression on her face. "Honey, what’s this for? It’s not my birthday or anything."

"I know," he said. "I just felt like getting you a little something."

She took it from him and opened it. She couldn’t suppress a slight gasp when she saw the silver heart lying against the dark blue velvet. Instantly, her mind shouted, "No!" She had barely begun to process the idea of Max’s floating hearts being gone from around her neck. To replace them so soon was unthinkable. She couldn’t do it—she wasn’t ready. She brought her eyes back up to Jeff and noted the expectant look on his face.

"Oh, honey, it’s very pretty," she managed to say.

Jeff felt a sudden twinge of doubt. He could tell by her hesitation that it was too soon. He was pushing her too hard, expecting something from her that she wasn’t ready for. He should have known. He cursed himself for missing the mark with her once again. He had been so anxious to adorn her with the symbol of his deep and enduring love, he hadn’t considered that she needed time to mourn the loss of the other. Trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice, he said, "Baby, if you don’t like it, we can take it back. I just thought…"

"No, sweetie, I love it," Fran offered hurriedly. She took it out of the box and held it up, admiring the polished lines of it and the way it caught the light. Slowly, it dawned on her that what she held in her hand represented a fresh direction in her life—a new path leading to her complete happiness with the man of her dreams. She looked back at Jeff and saw all the hope he held for their future together and said, "Will you help me put it on?"

He leapt out of his chair and came around behind her, taking the delicate chain out of her hand. He let go a blissful sigh as he closed the tiny clasp behind her neck. When he sat back down, Fran leaned across and gave him a tender little kiss. "Thank you, honey. You’re so sweet."

"You’re welcome. I love you," he said, grasping her fingers with his.

Jeff took a bite of his dinner as he gazed at the shining symbol of his victory in the battle for Fran’s heart. Fran took a sip of her wine as she reached up and touched the silver pendant—the emblem of her undivided heart. At last she felt assured that it would allow her to give all her love to the man who truly deserved it.

****************

Max pushed open the door of the lunch deli and stepped inside. He glanced at his watch and then looked up at the lines of people stacked up at the counter, trying to decide if he had enough time to wait through one of them. He finally fell in at the back of the shortest one and started perusing the menu up on the wall. He really wasn’t that hungry, but he had a long afternoon of rehearsals ahead of him, and he needed to take advantage of the few free minutes he had to get some nourishment.

After settling on a roast turkey on white, he poked his head out and looked up to the front of the line to see if he could tell how fast it was moving. That’s when he saw her. Two people ahead, and there was no mistake about it. That long, flowing black hair that fell to the middle of her back and that figure of which he knew every nuance intimately. It was Fran, and Max felt something wash over him and nearly bowl him over. Part panic, part longing, part remorse—but mostly love, deep and enduring.

Suddenly not hungry anymore at all, he spent the next few minutes gripped by indecision. One part of him said just turn and leave. She hadn’t seen him. Escape now and avoid what would surely be an extremely uncomfortable scene. The other said stay and talk to her. Take advantage of the opportunity to look into those beautiful brown eyes, although he was truly afraid of what he would see in them. But who knew if she would even speak to him? He had hurt her, he knew, but it had been five months. Surely they would be able to say hello and spend a few moments asking after each other’s well-being.

Who was he kidding? It didn’t matter how irrational it was, there was no way he was going to pass up the chance to talk to her and see how she was doing. He hadn’t heard anything about her in a long while, and he was just desperate to know that she was all right—that she was happy and that everything was going wonderfully with her and Jeff. He had no idea if he would be able to learn all of that from just a brief encounter with her, but he had to give it a shot. It was something he thought about nearly all the time, and now he just had to find out.

Just then, Fran took her lunch from the cashier and turned away from the counter. Max’s feet were glued to the floor as he watched her take her tray and head toward the condiment bar. He stood there watching her maneuver through the tangle of people, immobilized by a jumble of emotions. The lady behind him cleared her throat pointedly, indicating for him to step forward and close the gap, but instead Max stepped out of the line and headed toward Fran.

Just as she slipped into a chair at a tiny corner table, he reached her and, trying to keep his voice from shaking, said, "Hello, Fran."

She looked up and Max watched a series of emotions pass across her face. At first shock, with those brown eyes opening wide. Then hurt, with the corners of that beautiful mouth taking a slight downward turn. At last anger, with her jaw setting and her eyes narrowing. Then she looked down and took a bite of her sandwich, stating casually, "Hello, Max."

She ignored him while he stood next to her. After an awkward moment, he asked, "May I sit down? Just for a minute."

"Sure," she said, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. There was no way she was going to let this man get to her. She’d been through this too many times with him.

Max sat down and took a deep breath. "How have you been?"

Fran took a sip of her iced tea. "Um, fine. Both shops are doing great. Jeff just got another promotion. Things couldn’t be better. How about you?" she asked with forced nonchalance.

"Um, well, I’m doing all right, I suppose. I have a new play in rehearsal, so I’m pretty busy with that." He looked at her intently, trying to think what to say next.

"So, how’s that guilt thing coming along?" she asked flippantly. "Making any progress on that?"

Max felt his stomach start to churn. This wasn’t going well. "Fran," he said sheepishly. "I…"

"Save it, Max. I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. Whatever we had together is over and in the past. I’ve let it go. It’s time you did too. You made your choices, now deal with them. Just leave me out of it."

He started to plead with her, but suddenly froze. His eyes had landed on the necklace that lay against the silky skin of her chest. It was a single silver heart pendant. He was struck speechless as he felt a stab of burning pain shoot through his heart.

"What?" she asked.

"Your necklace," he stated dumbfounded.

She reached up and picked up the pendant holding it out and glancing down at it. "Yeah, isn’t it pretty? Jeff gave it to me."

He looked at her with profound hurt in his eyes. Finally, he managed to utter, "Where are the floating hearts I bought you?"

She looked at him dumbfounded. "You have got to be kidding," she pronounced.

"But you promised to wear it always," he entreated.

"Yeah, well, people promise things all the time. I’ve learned it doesn’t always mean much." She sat there staring at him. Unable to hide her exasperation, she said, "Max, what is it you want from me? Some kind of absolution?"

"I just want to know that you’re ok," he stated earnestly.

"I’m fine. I’m absolutely, perfectly fine. Now, why don’t you just go?"

He stood up slowly. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t think of any words that would be appropriate. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to beg her to put the necklace back on because he still loved her so much and he wanted her to remember that every moment of her life. He wanted to tell her how much he missed having her in his life. But nothing came out.

He turned to leave, but took one more brief glance back at her. The necklace was gone, and in its place the symbol of the loving bond between her and Jeff. He had to accept that. It was what he had worked for, after all. And now she was free to love her husband completely and continue building their lives together. He turned back and headed toward the door, determined to get out of there before she could see what a mess he was. Before she saw his tears.

Fran took a deep breath and pushed her lunch away from her. She couldn’t help gloating just a bit. She had read the pain on his face, seen the torment in his eyes. She figured it was pretty close to the way she had looked that day at the Russian Tea Room. Normally, she wasn’t the vengeful type, but this felt pretty good. Maxwell Sheffield was an emotional wreck, and she was better off without him in her life. But for some reason, she just didn’t feel like finishing her lunch. Taking one more sip of her tea, she stood up and walked out the door. Turning the opposite direction that Max had taken, she lifted her chin and headed up the street. Thank God he was out of her life for good. Suddenly, she felt the urge to pick up her pace and get away from him as quickly as possible.

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