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  She called him and Jarrad told her to swing by his house. In minutes she’d showered, changed into jeans and a cherry-red sweater, slipped on boots and her leather jacket and headed out. As always, the drive to Jarrad’s soothed her. From Kitsilano, she skirted English Bay, driving down Point Grey Road, then taking the Burrard Street Bridge, edging around downtown Vancouver and over the Lions Gate Bridge and then taking the scenic, if slower, Marine Drive. The highway would be quicker but she felt the need to gather her thoughts. She needed a strong male shoulder to lean on, but she also needed to figure out how much to tell a nosy family member.

  There was something about the timeless beat of the ocean that made any problem seem smaller.

  When she pounded on Jarrad’s door she smelled something amazing. He opened the door and she was struck by how happy he looked, how relaxed. “Hey, sis,” he said, pulling her in for a bear hug.

  “Bro.” She hugged him back.

  “Sierra’s here, but we can go for a walk if you want some privacy.”

  “I know she’s here. Nothing you can cook smells that good,” she said, walking into the room and giving her favorite schoolteacher a hug. “What’s for dinner?”

  Sierra also seemed to have bloomed in the weeks she’d known Jarrad. The woman had an inner confidence that had been lacking. Looking at the pair, she thought they were one of those rare couples who truly fitted together.

  Imagine.

  “Chicken cacciatore. Enough for three.”

  She grinned. “I’d love you even if you hadn’t straightened out my brother. I’ll set the table.”

  “Wine?” Jarrad brandished a bottle of red.

  “Sure.”

  The three of them sat around the fireplace which danced with the flames of a real wood fire. Jarrad handed out the wine and she sipped gratefully.

  She glanced around at the mishmash of handmade furniture and the blue-and-white upholstery. Sure, it was charming, but with this property right on the ocean, he could have a real showplace. “I hope you’re going to knock this shack down and build a real house now Sierra’s in the picture,” she said.

  She caught the shared glance between her dinner hosts and knew instinctively that was never going to happen. Had he actually found a woman who preferred sea shanty to luxury? She shook her head. “You really are perfect for him, aren’t you?”

  “Yep,” her brother said, putting an arm around his woman.

  “Jarrad said you sounded upset,” Sierra said, giving her a concerned look. “If you want to talk, I can go in the other room.”

  She waved a hand. “No. You’re a woman. Maybe you can help.”

  She took a sip of wine. Jarrad always had great wine. She took another approving sip. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve sort of been seeing Greg.”

  Jarrad choked on his wine. “You have?”

  Sierra, she noted, didn’t look at all surprised. She was one of those quiet, smart women who didn’t miss much.

  “Well, that’s the problem, actually. I’m not seeing him, only sleeping with him.”

  “Slut!” Jarrad said in mock disgust.

  She leaned over and punched his knee.

  “Ow,” he said, laughing. “Okay, okay. You’re sleeping with the dude. Get it. You’re both single, I don’t see the problem.”

  Sierra shook her head. “Men never do.”

  “I know.” She turned to the woman she strongly suspected would soon be her sister-in-law. “I’m not sure if you know, but we used to go out in high school.”

  The other woman nodded. “I heard.”

  “He wanted to marry me when I left to go back east to law school. I thought he was trying to control me and we had this huge fight and broke up. You know, the kind of fight that you figure you’ll settle because in your whole life you’ve always worked it out and moved on?”

  Sierra nodded.

  “But this one we somehow never did. And the more time that passed, the more impossible it was for us to patch things up.”

  A log popped in the fireplace and she thought how cozy it was here. They didn’t even have music playing so she heard the ocean beating against the shore. She shook her head. “A decade can go by real fast. And then we met again at the rink and went for a burger and, boom, we ended up in bed so fast I was still tasting French fries.”

  She frowned as the memory played out all the way. “And then he left. Without saying anything about seeing me again.”

  “Did it happen only the one time?”

  “No. It’s been a couple of times. It’s like he can’t stay away from me, but he doesn’t want a real relationship with me either.”

  “What set off the panic phone call?” Jarrad wanted to know.

  “I was feeling weird, you know? And I reminded him that when we read Romeo and Juliet in high school he’d said he would die for me.”

  “Sounds like a sixteen-year-old,” Jarrad said.

  “Be quiet, Jarrad,” Sierra said in her schoolteacher voice. “How did Greg respond?”

  “He said, maybe he already did die for me. What kind of a stupid thing is that to say to a person? I don’t even know what it means.”

  “Are you sure?” The gentle voice prodded.

  Instead of answering, Sam drank some more wine. “Maybe. Maybe it means I killed his love for me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t think so at all.”

  “You mean…?” She didn’t even want to finish the sentence, didn’t want to admit to anyone in the room, least of all herself, how much she wanted it to be true that Greg still loved her.

  “I think he still loves you. You remember how Romeo and Juliet ends?”

  “In a bloodbath,” Jarrad said with a frown. “Or was that Hamlet?”

  Sierra ignored him. “Juliet’s taken this potion to make it seem as though she’s dead so she can supposedly be buried in the family vault, and then she’ll wake up and sneak out and live happily ever after with Romeo. But he never gets the message so when he hears she has died, he truly believes she’s gone. Romeo can’t live without her, and so he kills himself at her side.”

  “Right. I remember the play.”

  “But then Juliet wakes up and finds Romeo dead. And in despair she kills herself with his sword so they can be together always.”

  “Right. Tragic teenaged love.”

  Sierra gazed into the fire and the light pinkened her cheeks. “The play’s also about miscommunication. Sometimes speaking the truth is the most important thing you can do.”

  “But if his love is dead…”

  “Not his love. His pride. His ego. Greg threw himself on his sword, metaphorically, when he proposed to you and you turned him down. Right now, I’d say you’re at the part of the play where you’re waking up and discovering he’s made this huge sacrifice for you. Question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  “Are you suggesting I should—what was your expression—throw myself on my sword?”

  “It’s up to you what you do. But the rest of your life is a long time to go without the man you love.”

  She didn’t even protest that she still loved the guy. Not when Sierra was so smart. What was the point? “So I have to propose?”

  “Sacrifice your ego and pride on the altar of love and see what happens.”

  Sam felt a little sick. “But what if he says no?”

  “You won’t be any worse off than you are now. And at least you’ll know.”

  At least she’d know.

  “I don’t know. I have to think about this. Maybe it would be better if I told him not to come around anymore. Go back to the way things were.”

  No one answered her. After a beat of silence, Jarrad said, “I’m starved. Let’s eat.” And the emotional part of the evening ended with them all heading to the table, passing bread and sharing Sierra’s amazing food.

  “Mmm, this is fantastic,” Sam said as she dug into the meal Sierra had prepared. She might be broken-hearted, but she could still enj