Still grinning, Gavin moves his other hand out from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of cherry red roses. For a moment, I don’t know if I’m in another dream or if this is real, but when someone bumps into me and keeps on walking, I assume it must be real.

“Gavin,” I start to say through clenched teeth as I move toward him and out of the way of people hurrying past. “I…I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”

Gavin hands me the bouquet and takes my carry-on from me, and while I’m perfectly capable of holding it myself, I’m too stunned to protest.

“I’ve had some time to think,” he explains, still smiling at me. “We need to talk.”

I let out a slow breath, feeling the crushing weight of my exhaustion mixed with the lingering stress from flying for so long. Even if I wanted to have a long talk with Gavin, I certainly don’t want to do it right here and now.

“I don't think we need to talk in the airport,” I tell him as I shift the flowers to my left hand and take my carry-on back from him. “I’ve been traveling for twelve hours, and right now I just want to catch up on some sleep.”

Shaking my head, I move over toward the luggage carousel just in time to see my suitcase passing by, though I don’t have a free hand to grab it.

“I’ve got it!” Gavin calls as he races around the carousel after my suitcase and pulls it off of the conveyor belt.

“Thanks,” I mumble as he wheels it over to me. “I appreciate you coming all the way here, but we’ll talk later, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, I find the sign for the BART and start walking in its direction.

“Where are you going?” Gavin asks.

“Home,” I call over my shoulder without turning around.

Within seconds, Gavin is next to me, trying to take my suitcase.

“Stop, I’ve got it,” I tell him, feeling crankier with each nice thing he tries to do.

“Anna, let me drive you home,” he says. “Please? I have my car, and I’ll bring you straight to your door. There’s no need for you to carry two bags and a bouquet of flowers through the city.”

“I wasn’t planning on having the flowers with me,” I mutter.

“Come on,” he tries again, ignoring my comment. “We can talk on the way.”

I stop walking, knowing that, as much as I hate to admit it, Gavin’s right. I’m tired and a little hungover, and I just want to get home as fast as possible.

“Fine,” I reluctantly agree.

“Great,” Gavin replies, finally wrestling my suitcase handle out of my hand.

He grabs his sunglasses from where they’re hanging on his shirt and puts them on his face. I look away, thinking that he looks stupid wearing them inside. Although, the airport is so bright, and I had one too many drinks on the plane, so I’m kind of wishing I had a pair right now.

I let Gavin usher me toward the parking garage and his car. I get into the passenger seat with the flowers in my lap while he loads my bags into the trunk. As he slides into the driver seat, he puts his finger on the ignition button, but he turns to me before starting the car.

“Don’t forget to buckle up,” he says.

“Right.” I sigh, my headache getting worse as I pull the seat belt across my chest.

Gavin eases the car out of the parking space and heads for the exit, too busy following the signs to say anything. I’m grateful for the silence, especially since I’m not in the mood to talk. I have a feeling he wants to discuss the state of our relationship, and I can feel my determination to set my own course already hitting a speed bump. I try to remember the reasons we broke up, but the flowers smell really nice, and I have to admit that his car is a lot better than taking public transportation.

“So,” Gavin begins once we’re on the highway, breaking the silence. “After you shocked me by going off to Iceland on your own, I had some time to think. I realize that I may have hit you with too much at once, and I really should’ve talked to you first. I’m sorry for the way I handled things.”

He glances over at me for a reaction, but I keep staring ahead, wishing he would be quiet.

“But it would be stupid to ignore what we have,” he continues. “You can’t deny how good we are together.”

Can’t I? I think to myself as I take in a slow, deep breath.

“I really want to make it up to you,” Gavin says with a smile. “How about you go home and rest up, and then I’ll take you out for a nice dinner at our favorite place?”

I glance over at Gavin, wondering if maybe I’ve been a little impulsive. He’s clearly trying hard; the least I can do is hear him out.

“Okay,” I agree as I close my eyes.

***

After a nap and a long shower, I finally get dressed in a simple green sheath dress and a chunky accent necklace, checking my appearance in the mirror as I slide on a pair of heels. When I get outside, I look up at the gray, overcast clouds and remember how blue the sky was when I woke up in Iceland this morning. It feels like that was days, if not weeks ago.

At the restaurant, I pause for a moment before going inside, thinking about how Gavin said it was our favorite. He was so sure about it, too. I can still see the confidence in his smile when he said it.

“I thought that was you. What are you doing out here?” he asks as he opens the front door of the restaurant for me.

“Sorry, I just got lost in my thoughts,” I tell him.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes sweeping down my body.

“Thanks.”

“I hope you don’t mind; I already got a table,” he says as he leads me through the restaurant with his hand lightly on my back. “I wanted to make sure we got our favorite.”

“Our favorite…table?” I ask in confusion.

“Of course.”

I have no idea which table is our favorite, so I’m shocked when he leads me to the spot by the windows where he made a very public marriage proposal—a proposal I declined right before I fled to Iceland. I would’ve thought this table, this restaurant, hell, maybe this whole city block, would hold bad memories for Gavin, but he keeps grinning at me like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

He pulls my chair out for me, and as we both sit down, I give him a long, curious look.

“What?” he asks with an uncomfortable laugh.

“Why do you think this is my favorite restaurant?” I ask.

Gavin looks puzzled, his eyebrows knitting together as he responds.

“Of course it is,” he says, though he seems a little less confident now. “We eat here all the time, and the food is great. You love the Cobb salad, don’t you? You get it all the time. Plus, it’s got that neighborhood feel while also being highly rated and—”

“But you never asked me,” I interrupt him.

Gavin stares blankly at me for a moment, cocking his head with uncertainty.

“Asked you what?”

“You never asked what my favorite restaurant was, and I’m sure I’ve never said that it was this one,” I point out.

“Are you serious?” Gavin laughs. “Of course I’ve asked which restaurant is your favorite. And if I’m wrong, I promise to ask you next time we go out to dinner, okay?”

His smile returns, and I know he’s expecting me to just agree and move on, but I can’t. Something’s changed inside of me, and I’m not willing to go along with everything Gavin says anymore.

“No,” I tell him, folding my arms over my chest. “It’s not okay. Why did you book us a trip to Iceland when you know I’m scared of flying and I hate cold weather?”

“Because your ancestors are from Iceland,” he says, his smile faltering. “It’s good to know where your family is from. I did that whole tour of Ireland when I graduated college, and I loved it. And if you hate Iceland so much, why did you even bother going?”

“But that’s your thing,” I point out, ignoring his snide question. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to go to Iceland or if I even wanted to go anywhere. You just assumed I would like to do everything that you like to do. Just like you assumed I would drop everything and follow you to Chicago.”

“Wait a second, we talked about that,” he says, his smile completely gone at this point. “Chicago was always our plan.”

“No,” I disagree, shaking my head so I can feel my ponytail swishing behind me. “It was always your plan. We didn’t talk about anything. You talked and never bothered to listen to what I wanted.”

A server appears at the table carrying a tray. He sets down two glasses of wine and a crab cake appetizer.

“What’s this?” I ask, looking at Gavin in confusion.

“I wanted to make sure tonight was perfect,” he says. “I know I need to make up for last time, so I ordered for you… Isn’t this what you always get? The house sauvignon blanc and the crab cakes?”

The server looks back and forth between us, unsure of what’s going on.

“Yes,” I say begrudgingly, hating to admit that Gavin is right.

The server asks if we want to order our dinners, but I need some more time as I search the menu for something other than the Cobb salad, though nothing else looks as good.

“Damn,” I mutter under my breath. “Have I really become that predictable?”

Gavin reaches across the table and takes my hand.

“I see no problem with being consistent,” he says, smiling again.

“I’m not so sure,” I reply, breathing out slowly.

I end up ordering the salad, not wanting to make things worse by trying something new that I end up hating. As we split the crab cakes, Gavin explains that the reason he brought me here tonight is to reset our relationship.

“Reset our relationship?” I repeat, confused about what, exactly, that entails.

“Yes,” he says. “We hit the reset button and start over. All of the stuff that you’re unhappy about doesn't matter because we’re turning a new leaf. I’m going to work to be the person you deserve to be with, because I love you, Anna, and I want to be with you.

Gavin raises his glass and leans in a little closer across the table. The candlelight flickers, and I can see the flame reflecting in his eyes.

“A toast,” he says, “to a new beginning, and to us!”

I stare back at him for a moment, about to raise my glass to his, but something stops me. If this is truly going to be a new beginning—if Gavin is being sincere and he wants to start over—we can’t try again with a secret hanging between us. I need to tell him what happened in Iceland.

“Gavin, wait,” I say, shaking my head.

“What is it?” he asks, still holding his glass in the air, waiting for me to cheers him.

“I slept with someone,” I blurt out before I can talk myself out of it. “While I was in Iceland.”

Slowly, Gavin sets his wine glass down on the table and then does a quick glance around the dining room.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asks, lowering his voice. “I mean, you must be, though I’m having trouble seeing this as funny. You would never do something like that to me. It’s not who you are—”

“Yes, it is,” I cut him off. “I had sex with someone else while I was away. Barely a day ago, in fact.”

As Gavin stares at me, I can see a range of emotions play out in his eyes before he clears his throat and pushes his wine glass an inch farther away from his plate.

“Okay,” he says in a steady, controlled voice. “It’s fine. We were on a break.”

“No, you broke up with me when I turned your plans down,” I correct him.

“Okay,” he says again with a nod. “We were broken up.”

Gavin presses his lips together, processing the situation. He reaches for his wine glass again, and this time he slides it closer to his plate.

“This guy,” he says, leaning forward, keeping his voice down, “he didn’t mean anything to you, right?”

I hesitate for a moment, thinking about the amazingly hot sex and how it felt to be with the stranger. I can still feel the bruise on my lower back from where he slammed me up against the hotel wall as he thrust—

“Anna?” Gavin asks, raising his voice slightly.

I cough as I lift my glass to my lips, hoping to cover the blush in my cheeks.

“Just tell me,” Gavin says. “It didn’t mean anything, right?”