Conversation flows naturally between Delaney and me. I ask her about school and her degree – or degrees as I quickly learn – and we compare notes on how big cities are different from South Grove. She tells me about her friend Nico and how he saved her from getting hit by a cab on her first day at NYU. Apparently, she wanted to make a good impression and decided to wear a pair of Manolo somethings that her parents gave her the day she moved into her dorm, and when she crossed the street, her heel got stuck in the hole of a sewer grate. She tried to pull herself free, but it was either her or the very expensive shoes, and she couldn't decide fast enough. Just as a cab came flying down the street, Nico saw her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her out of the way. Shoe and all.

He was her Knight in a Louis Vuitton blazer – in her words – and now she rarely goes anywhere without him. Lucky fucking bastard.

The way she talks about him and the love I see for him in her eyes makes me wonder if they've ever dated.

She tells me about the internship she had in Manhattan, and we dabble on my minor league career and how I spent three years in the St. Louis Cardinals farm system before I was called up, but she doesn't ask about the pros. I have a feeling she doesn't pry because she knows it's a sore subject, and knowing Delaney, she's going to wait for me bring it up. She tells me about the time she got lost in Riverside Park by herself, and I scold her for trying to navigate the city alone, and we laugh about the time the team hazed me and hid my uniform, and I had to walk onto the field during practice with my baseball glove in front of my dick to ask where they put it.

We talk about the article her boss offered her and how she found out about it the same day she learned of the affair. I agree with her friend Nico that she's crazy for turning it down, but I understand her reasons once she explains how she caught Will and his assistant fucking in the same bed she once shared with him, and how she couldn't focus on anything other than the fact that her life had done a complete one-eighty. She said if she couldn't put one hundred percent of herself into the job, she didn't want it – and I felt that.

"Hey. I don't want to put a damper on the night, but there's something I've been wanting to say to you," she says, taking a sip of her beer and turning toward me. "I'm so, so sorry about your dad."

I stiffen and set down my piece of fried chicken, wiping my greasy hands on a napkin. "Who told you?"

"I saw your dad in Maribelle's and he just...he didn't look like himself. When I mentioned it later that night my dad told me everything. I'm so sorry, Grey. You have no idea how badly I wish there was something I could do."

"Thanks, Del. I appreciate that. It's been tough to watch him practically decompose in front of my eyes, but he's been in remission for a while so, cross your fingers it stays that way."

She places her soft, warm hand on top of mine and squeezes. "I'll cross my fingers and my toes."

We talk effortlessly for hours. We laugh, joke, and tease each other about the naivety of our past. We reminisce and talk about how our ten-year reunion will be this fall, and even though neither of us plan on going, we both can't believe how fast ten years have gone by. We make fun of each other for non-existent wrinkles and gray hair, and as I sit with her, I remember how easy it is to be with her. Unlike girls I've come across in the past, there's no hidden agenda with Delaney. No expectations. I can be myself because she knows and accepts the deepest parts of me.

"Hey, guys. I'm gonna take Hannah inside so I can clean her up before we head over to the fireworks."

"Okay."

"I be wight back, Auntie Waney. Don't weave," Hannah says, as Jo carries her toward Delaney's house.

"Hurry up, banana! You don't wanna miss the show," I say.

"I not a 'nana, Uncle Geyson." She looks over Jo's shoulder and lifts her little arms in the air. "I a big gawl."

I chuckle and shake my head as I watch them disappear into the house, and when I look at Delaney, her eyes are shifting between the darkening sky and her diamond-encrusted, rose gold watch. "I had no idea it was so late."

"We should actually leave now if we wanna get a good spot." I stand from my chair and collect our empty plates, throwing them in the large trashcan in the middle of the street. I expect her to be behind me as I walk toward my car, but when I turn around, she's still in her chair. "Hey. You coming?"

"I...um, I think I'm gonna drive with my parents."

"They already left, Laney bug. I'm pretty sure everyone has."

She looks around, finally noticing the empty street. There are a few stragglers – mostly elderly neighbors who decided not to go to the park for the fireworks – but other than that, everyone is gone.

"Oh," she says, suddenly seeming nervous. "Maybe I'll just go with Jo."

"Sure, you can do that. Or you can just get in the car and we can leave now," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets as I slowly walk toward her. "I'm not gonna make a pass at you if that's what you're worried about. Marital affairs aren't really my thing."

She looks back at her house as she nervously pulls at her fingers. I don't know what she's so worried about. I mean it when I say I won't touch her. As much as I'd love to go all caveman on her right now – throwing her over my shoulder as I carry her to my bedroom and drop her on the bed, shoving my hard cock into her tight, wet pussy over and over again as I fuck her senseless, reminding her of a time we promised to only have each other – I can't. She doesn't trust me again yet, not to mention she's still legally married.

When - and yes, I mean when - I kiss her again, it's going to be because we both want it.

My fierce, defensive girl stands from her chair, defiantly lifting her chin as she straightens her shoulders. "You seem to have forgotten that I'm not married anymore."

Her voice is low and raspy, and thick with, dare I say, desire? I can't help but ask myself – is that an invitation, or just wishful thinking on my part?

I look down at her left hand, eyeing the rock on her finger. A large, oval diamond that's definitely no less than three carats, surrounded by a border of tiny diamonds, set on a band of – you guessed it – more diamonds. It's ostentatious as fuck and was probably only given to her so that her ex could make up for his tiny dick and the fact that he has no idea what to do with it, thus leaving Delaney unsatisfied every time they're together, and to show off how much money he makes to their friends and family – not because it's the ring she wanted.

It's not her, and not at all like the ring I imagined giving her when I proposed.

"Yeah? Well, that iceberg on your finger says otherwise."

She looks down at her hand before quickly tucking it behind her back. "Are we going to the fireworks, or what?"

"Lead the way," I say, stretching my hand out so she can walk ahead of me.

I've seen some of the most beautiful views in America – Na Pali Coast in Kauai, Hawaii. The Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Antelope Canyon in Arizona. Niagara Falls. The view of a sold-out crowd from the pitcher's mound at Wrigley Field – but walking behind Delaney, with her high, round ass and seductive sway, is by far my favorite view.

"You got your Jeep," she says, interrupting my gawking. She practically skips up my parents' driveway, running the tip of her cherry red manicured finger along the smooth paint of my silver, four-door, Jeep Wrangler. It's been my dream car since I was old enough to notice cars, and warmth spreads throughout my chest at the fact that Delaney remembers. "Is it all tricked out the way you wanted it to be?"

"Uh, no. My teenage brain and my adult brain battled it out for a while, but thankfully, my adult brain won. I'm pretty sure there's a word for almost thirty-year-old retired baseball players with a souped-up Jeep, and cool isn't one of them."

"Well, souped-up or not, I think it's awesome. You got the car you've always wanted."

I step around her and open the passenger door. "You've been in this car before."

"Uh..." She steps back and frowns. "What do you mean? When?"

"The night of Climax."

"That's right," she whispers, dropping her eyes and picking at a hangnail on her thumb anxiously. "You took me home that night."

"Thanks for not puking in it, by the way."

She looks up at me, an embarrassed grimace on her face. "Thanks for making sure I got home safely."

Though my Jeep isn't souped-up with a V-8 engine and an after-market exhaust that would allow me to be heard over three counties like I planned when I was fourteen, it is lifted, so when I see Delaney grip the headrest and top of the passenger side door as she struggles to get in, I can't help but wrap my fingers around her slender waist and lift her into the seat. She inhales sharply and stiffens at my touch, but almost as soon as I notice, she relaxes and looks at me over her shoulder, blue eyes bright and wild, and a smirk lifting the corner of her perfectly pouty mouth.

"So, what happened to your truck?" she asks as I shut my door.

"Oh, do you mean my classic 1999 Ford Ranger? The one that sounded like the bottom was about to fall out every time I put it in reverse, and where you had to pull on the disabled wire hanger in order to lock the passenger door?"

"That'd be the one," she says, giggling at the pathetically accurate description of my first car.

I wrap my arm around the back of her seat and look behind us as I pull out of my parents' driveway. "My dad junked it after I left."

"God, remember how many times that truck broke down? I thought when we got stranded in Raleigh after the Kings of Leon concert you were just gonna leave it on the side of the road."

I throw my head back and bark out a laugh. "I almost did. If there are any gray hairs on my head, it's because of that damn truck. I was always afraid it was gonna die on me and I'd have no way home."

"I hated it."

"I don't know." I place my elbow on the open windowsill and rest my head on my fist, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. "If I remember correctly, we had some pretty good times in that thing."

Splotches of crimson decorate the skin on her chest and neck and continue up her face, turning her cheeks a scarlet red. She's no doubt remembering the times we shared – Cuddling under a blanket in the bed at the drive-in movie theater a few towns over. Kisses in the passenger seat when I'd drop her off at work. Chick-Fil-A picnics on the hood after baseball practice. The way she'd wrap herself around my arm like a koala bear and fall asleep on my shoulder during road trips. Make-out sessions when we had nowhere else to go – but I know for a fact the memory of me fingering her in the backseat for the first time after a party at Cash Connelly's is the reason she's the color of a ripe tomato.

"Uh, y – yeah," she stutters. "We did."

She clears her throat as she crosses and uncrosses her legs and wipes her palms up and down the length of her thighs before she simply folds her hands, setting them in her lap and stares out the passenger side window. I cover my mouth with my fist as I chuckle quietly to myself. I don't want to embarrass her any more than I already have.

It sure is a boost to my ego knowing I can still affect her like that.

We pull into the parking lot at South Grove Park with only a few minutes to spare before the fireworks start. It's crowded, but we find our parents almost instantly. My mother is taking pictures of everyone with the digital camera I'm surprised hasn't completely died yet, while my father is in a lawn chair next to her, just taking it all in. Since being diagnosed he treats every holiday like it's his last. Mr. James has Hannah perched on his shoulders, causing him to tower over everyone else while Jo argues with her to put on a pair of huge, thick, noise-cancelling headphones. Her mother is seated in a gravity lounge chair with her phone in her face. I'm not a gambling man, but I'd bet my life she's checking the score of the Chicago Cubs game.

She must feel our presence because her head quickly turns in our direction, and by the stunned look on her face we more than surprised her, and I know the second she gets her daughter alone, Delaney's in for a seriously invasive interrogation.

"Hey, everyone!" Delaney says happily, though there's a shake to her voice I don't think I would have noticed had my attention not been laser-focused on her. "Did we miss anything?"

"Did you two – did you come together?" her mother asks.

"Yeah."

"Together. You came together. Like, in the same car?"

"Yes," Delaney answers, growing frustrated.

She turns toward us, resting her pointy chin in her hand. "Well, as glad as I am to see it, how the hell did that happen?"

"Oh my, God. It just did, okay?" Delaney takes the blanket I had in my Jeep from under my arm and opens it up, laying it across the grass. "Can we move on now?"

Mrs. James' eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to speak, but Delaney shakes her head and slices her hand across her throat, silently asking her mother not to ask anymore questions. A mischievous smile spreads across her face, but she does as she's asked and turns back to the baseball stats on her phone.

Delaney's mother has always been curious and inquisitive by nature – it's where Delaney gets it from – and it's been known to get her in trouble with Mr. James from time to time. It's nice to see she can at least pretend to have a filter every now and again.

I can feel everyone's eyes on Delaney and me, but thankfully she's too busy listening to Hannah prattle on about her day and how she spilled fruit punch on the new dress she's wearing to notice. She's never loved being the center of attention, and I doubt that's changed.

"Greyson McKinnie. Is that you?"

I turn around to see my math teacher from senior year coming towards me. "Holy shit. Mr. Stuber. Hey."

"How are you, son?" He reaches his hand toward me, and I grab his in return, shaking it in greeting. "I don't know if I'm supposed to ask for your autograph or reprimand you for your language."

"I'd prefer neither if that's okay with you." I laugh awkwardly. "How are you?"

"It's summer break. How bad can I be?" He laughs and rubs his hand along the belly that wasn't there when we were in high school. "I'm happy to see you out and about with the rest of us."

"Thank you, sir."

Delaney's spirited laugh swirls around us, and when I look at her, she has Hannah in her lap and is laughing at something Jo just said.

"I'm happy to see you two are still together," Mr. Stuber says.

Samurai sword. Straight through the heart. And twist.

How can the feeling of losing her and the memory of our break-up still hurt after all this time?

"Yeah, we actually aren't together anymore," I say. I shove my hands into the front pockets of my shorts and drop my eyes. "She lives in New York now and she's just visiting. She's married too. Well, actually she's getting divorced, so I guess she'd consider herself separated, but they haven't signed any paperwork yet, so I guess technically she –"

"Greyson. I'm sorry. I had no idea." He stares at me for a few seconds before he sighs and crosses his arms against his chest. "My wife and I were high school sweethearts. We were set to go Vanderbilt together when her mother suddenly fell ill, and she decided to stay home and go to the local community college. We tried to make long distance work but with my academic schedule and her taking care of her mother, we drifted apart. I tried the dating thing, but no one ever stuck. Not the way she did." He turns and watches as a pretty blonde woman, I'm assuming is his wife, chats with a girl who looks to be around my age and is the spitting image of the woman she's talking to. "I had two job opportunities after I graduated – one in Nashville, and one here, at South Grove High. The salary in Nashville was better, but I chose South Grove for no reason other than the fact that I was going to be close to family, and I had free reign to teach the way I wanted too. I hadn't seen or spoken to Hope, my sweetheart, in three years. I moved here the summer after graduation and on my way to my new apartment I decided to stop in a diner and get lunch, and who do I find sitting at the counter? Hope. We had lunch together and it was like no time had passed, and now here we are, thirty years later with two daughters and our first grandchild on the way. Some might call it a coincidence, but I choose to believe that I walked into that diner purely because we were destined to be together."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying love, real and true love, is hard. It's messy and chaotic, and sometimes mentally and physically paralyzing, but it's also one of the most beautiful things a person can experience. What's meant to be will be, but if it's real..." He places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes lightly. "You'll eventually find your way back."

I tuck my bottom lip into my mouth as I look at Delaney, and even though I try my hardest to hold it back, I can't help but smile. She's sitting on her feet playing a hand-clapping game with Hannah. She's trying her best, but Hannah can't seem to get the movements right, and every time she messes up they both fall into a fit of giggles.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I haven't been the same since Delaney and I broke up. I had everything I always dreamed of – Baseball. A multi-million-dollar contract. My name on jerseys all across the country. Playing in front of thousands of people. Being able to give back to my parents after all they did for me – but none of it meant anything without her.

But she's here now. So, is Mr. Stuber, right? Could this be our second chance?

"Vanderbilt, huh?" I ask him, changing the subject. "One of the top ten biggest baseball universities in the country."

"Pitcher."

"No shit." I pull my hand from my pocket and punch him lightly in the shoulder. "You've been holding out on me."

"I simply didn't want you to feel the pressure of having to measure up to my expertise," he jokes. He reaches his arm out, patting me on the back. "Good to see you, Greyson."

I smile and nod. "You too."

I don't need to look around to know the prying eyes of our nosy neighbors are still on us – I can feel it – but I push them out of my mind and sit down on the blanket next to Delaney. If this is the last night I get to spend with her before she goes back to New York, I don't want to waste it being focused on anything other than her.

The sun has gone down, and the wind has picked up speed, blowing across the grass and causing golden blonde strands of hair to whip across her forehead, and for a minute I'm afraid they're going to call off the fireworks. I lay back, resting on my elbows as I look up at the starry sky. I glance at Delaney and notice she has her arms wrapped around her bare legs and is holding them against