Her eye caught something on her coffee table—something she had placed there several weeks ago, one Sunday afternoon when she’d been straightening her apartment. Perhaps to serve as a reminder.

People magazine. “The Women of Jason Andrews!” article.

Taylor removed her hands from Jason’s and held the magazine between them. The parade of all his ex-lovers/dates/ whatevers.

“Did you tell all of these women the same thing?”

Confronted with his past, Jason shook his head. “No. Those women have nothing to do with us.”

“Not even the supermodel? The one you brought to London?” Taylor saw that he was surprised she knew about this. “Did you tell her—”

“I’ll save you the trouble, in case you have a whole cross-examination prepared,” he said. “Yes, I’ve done a lot of bad things. I don’t deny it. But that all changed once I met you. I haven’t thought of anyone else from the first moment I saw you in that courtroom.”

Taylor’s expression remained surprisingly impassive.

“What about Naomi Cross?”

Jason’s shoulders sagged a little at this. “Naomi was different,” he said lamely.

Taylor’s face stayed firm. It had to. “I see. Naomi’s different.”

Jason shook his head in frustration. “No—that came out wrong.” He took a step closer and peered down at her earnestly.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re the one who’s different, Taylor.”

Ahhh . . . the magic words. The very words she had promised herself to never believe again.

But what about the look in Jason’s eyes? He seemed so forthright. So convincing.

Taylor hesitated.

She needed to stay firm. She looked down at her hands. At the magazine she held. “The Women of Jason Andrews!”

Seeing this, Jason yanked the magazine out of her hands. “Stop looking at this bullshit!” He threw the magazine against the wall and it crashed to the floor with a noisy flutter.

And then . . .

A tiny card slipped out from the magazine’s strewn pages.

Both Jason and Taylor saw it. He walked over and picked it up. Realizing what it was, Taylor looked away as Jason read the words on the card out loud.

“I’m sorry. And I love you. Daniel.”

Jason’s expression changed the moment he read the card. He turned back to her with a strange look.

“Now I see what the problem is. Tell me, Taylor, whose mistakes am I paying for?”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed. How dare he.

She picked the magazine off the floor and held it up. Her words were cold. “Your own.”

And with that, Jason’s eyes filled with hurt. But then, almost as quickly, they turned stony. Dead. His voice was flat and emotionless.

“If that’s how you feel, then I guess there’s nothing more we have to say to each other.”

And without so much as another look, he turned and walked out of her apartment.

When she heard the door slam, Taylor sat down on her couch. She fought hard against what happened next. She took a deep breath.

There’s no crying in baseball.

She blinked.

There’s no crying in baseball.

She wouldn’t do it. There’s no crying in baseball.

But it was a futile struggle. For the first time in her adult life, a tear ran down her face. And then another.

Taylor sat quietly on her couch, alone.

She did not brush the tears away.

Thirty-three

LINDA HELD UP the last of the remaining boxes, one marked “Miscellaneous.” Taylor gestured to the stack they had collected by her office door. “That one gets shipped to Chicago.” Linda nodded and put the box with the others.

They had been going at this for the past two days. For only having been in Los Angeles for a few months, Taylor had managed to collect a lot of files.

“I think that’s the last one,” Linda said.

Taylor nodded. She felt tired. Probably from all the packing, which seemed endless. When she wasn’t packing at the office, she was packing at home. The movers were coming to her apartment first thing the next morning, and then she’d be off to the airport. She already had several meetings scheduled for tomorrow afternoon in the Chicago office. As a new partner, she wanted to hit the ground running.

At the thought of being back in Chicago, Taylor looked out her office window. She knew Linda wanted to ask about Jason but Taylor really hoped she wouldn’t. It was bad enough that she was a mess at home. Every time her phone rang, she ran and checked the caller ID, hoping to see Jason’s number. She’d even skimmed the cable guide a time or two, looking to see if any of his movies just “happened” to be on.

Sensing that Taylor needed a moment alone, Linda turned to leave the office. But then she stopped in the doorway. “I just realized, we forgot to pack your desk drawer.”

The desk had one narrow drawer in the center. Taylor glanced at it, and then waved Linda off. “It’s no problem. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Are you sure?”

Taylor nodded. “Yep. There’s not much in there anyway, just a few pens and notepads.”

Linda nodded and left. Taylor stayed at her desk until she knew the coast was clear, then walked over and shut her door. When she got back to her desk, she slowly opened its one drawer. Folded inside was the “Shit Happens” T-shirt.

Taylor took the shirt out and set it on top of her desk. She ran her finger over the words. It was where it had all begun.