“Cassidy.” Her voice was a whisper.

He grinned then. She saw it out of the corner of her eye. “I love that you’ve only ever called me Cassidy.”

She shrugged. “It was all anyone called you back then.”

“Which made sense when everyone knew me best by what was written on my jersey. But you’ve kept it up even with my soccer days long behind me. And you’ve got everyone else doing it, too. Nobody ever calls me Alex.”

Emma pressed her lips together, not wanting to admit that part of the reason she held on to the old name was because she was trying to hold on to the old memories, in some tiny, harmless way.

Except there was no such thing as harmless memories. Not when it came to the two of them.

He turned to face her, his familiar features shadowed. “Ask me what else I remember.”

She started to turn away, but his hand touched her arm.

“Ask me,” he commanded.

Emma shook her head, feeling both terrified and the most alive she’d felt in years.

He waited patiently until her eyes met his. “I remember us, Emma.”

Emma couldn’t look away.

In the light of day, it was easy for Emma to convince herself that she was an independent woman who didn’t need a man. Any man.

But at night, with nothing but the twinkling Manhattan skyline and Alex Cassidy in her vision?

It was harder.

Harder to remember that this was the man who’d once left her standing all alone in a very puffy white dress.

And harder to forget that being in this man’s arms had once been the best part of her day.

The best part of her life.

She told herself to move. To run. But his eyes held her still.

He moved closer and slipped an arm around her, his hand finding the small of her back.

“You used to love it when I put my hand here.” Cassidy’s voice was rough.

She lifted her chin slightly. “Did I? Must have blocked that out.” But the way the heat from his palm branded her made the lie come out just a little bit breathlessly.

His hand pressed, pulling her closer until there was nothing between them but their stormy past. “You sure about that?”

“Yup,” she said, her eyes looking anywhere but his. “You’re utterly forgettable.”

His other hand found her chin, his fingers lifting her face to his. “Prove it.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes found his mouth, which was now just inches away from hers.

He stepped even closer, and Emma couldn’t breathe.

He whispered her name and she closed her eyes. She could smell him, feel him…wanted him.

She wanted this. She wanted so badly to have his lips on hers again. To remember how it had felt to be in his arms.

To remember how it felt to be loved and cherished.

Cherished.

Emma’s eyes flew open.

Cassidy had never cherished her. Not really. Not in the way that was lasting and real. He had walked away the second things got hard.

What am I doing?

It had taken her years to pick up the pieces after this man shattered her heart. She couldn’t do it again.

Wouldn’t do it again.

Emma stepped back.

His hand at her back resisted only briefly before he let her go, his gaze puzzled.

She stepped back even farther. “If you want to take a trip down memory lane, have at it, but don’t expect me to come with you.”

Hurt flashed across his face before anger settled over his features. “I wasn’t the only one feeling it, Emma. You forget that I know you. I know I’m not the only one who wishes we could turn back time. I’m not the only one who wants—”

“We can’t just go back, Cassidy.”

Her hardly spoken words seemed to rattle against the window, echoing through the apartment before hanging between them like a poisonous ghost.

There. She wished some of her old boyfriends could see her now. There was nothing cold and unfeeling about her current state of turmoil. It was always there. Always threatening to boil over.

His jaw clenched and he inhaled, but said nothing.

“We can’t just go backward,” she said, more calmly this time. “We have good memories. A lot of them. But we have bad memories, too, and—”

“And we get to choose which ones we hold on to,” he interrupted. “We get a choice, Emma. And you’re intentionally making the wrong one—”

“The safe one, Cassidy. I’m making the safe choice, and I won’t apologize for it.”

He crossed his arms, looking both agitated and disdainful. “We’re adults. Don’t we owe it to each other—”

“You hurt me!” Emma exploded. “You hurt me, Cassidy!”

“You hurt me, too, Emma!” he shot back, his statement every bit as vehement as hers, made even more fierce by the look of torment on his face. “You think it’s easy, seeing the woman who once tore me in two on a daily basis? You think it’s easy sitting across from you at the conference room table, or riding the same elevator or sharing a damn cheeseburger with you? Somehow you’re managing to pull me closer even as we’re further apart than ever, and I’m fucking tired of it, Emma.”

Her lips parted a little in surprise at the unexpected outburst. Cassidy had never been one prone to monologues. And certainly not ones that had to do with his feelings.

“I’m not trying to pull you closer,” she said, her voice quiet. “I don’t want things to be complicated, I just want…”