“He can’t hold this against you forever. None of it is your fault.”

“I’m not even sure he believes me that it’s a coincidence I had the book.”

“How could it not be a coincidence?”

“Think about it. I just happened to show up at his sister’s wedding—a woman I’d never met before—after reading his ex-wife’s diary?”

“But you didn’t know it was his ex-wife.”

I shrugged. “I know…but it seems awfully convenient.”

“So what does he think? You stalked him or something? You read his ex-wife’s diary, somehow figured out who he is, and set out to make him fall in love with you? That’s one boiling bunny short of a Glenn Close movie.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what he thinks.”

“Well, you want to know what I think?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course not, silly girl.” Fisher reached across the table, took my hand, and squeezed. “I don’t think any of the things that happened are coincidence. I think life is a series of stepping stones that branch out in all different directions. We have no idea what path we’re supposed to follow, so we tend to walk a straight line and follow the biggest stones, because that’s the easiest thing to do. Coincidences are the smaller stones that lead you on a path that veers off. If you’re brave enough, you follow those stones, and you wind up exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

I smiled sadly. “That’s beautiful. When did you become so enlightened?”

“About ten minutes ago when I was seated at this table and the waiter walked over. The hostess had asked me if I wanted a high table or a booth. I said a high table, but she walked me over to this booth anyway. I could have told her it wasn’t what I’d requested, but instead, I followed one of the little stones down a new path and look what it brought me.”

My forehead wrinkled. “I’m lost. What did it bring you?”

Our waiter approached, carrying a tray with our appetizer. He set the dish in the middle of the table and flashed a dazzling smile at Fisher. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Not at the moment. But maybe later?”

The waiter’s eyes sparkled. “You got it.”

After he walked away, Fisher picked up a mozzarella stick and winked at me. “Him. That path brought me him, and I think that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be in a few hours.”

***

On Friday night, I left the office about seven. Signature Scent was shipping without a hitch, and next week the website would go live for orders from the public. Olivia had managed to get me time on some local morning news shows for various segments that featured women in business, and a few magazines had agreed to do interviews with me. Everything I’d dreamed about for so long was coming true, yet I couldn’t find it in me to enjoy it.

This morning I’d broken down and texted Hudson I miss you. I could see he’d read it, but no return message ever came. I was heartbroken. Once, when I was a kid, I’d been jumping waves at the beach and one had hit me hard. It sucked me under, and I’d tumbled around like a ragdoll, losing sight of which way was up. That—that’s how I’d felt this week without speaking to Hudson. I’d had to drag my ass out of bed to come to work.

Now it was the weekend, but for some reason, I wasn’t ready to go home. On the train, I just sort of zoned out as it headed uptown. At one point I happened to look up as we were pulling into a station, and the name of the stop painted on the wall caught my attention as we slowed.

Bryant Park—42nd Street.

I stood. The train was packed, so I pushed my way through a dozen people to get to the doors and step off. The New York Public Library was right around the corner. The last thing I should be doing was sitting on the steps, reminiscing about the night Hudson and I had first danced, yet I couldn’t have stopped myself from going if I’d tried.

It was fall, so the days were getting shorter, and not long after I sat down in the same spot I’d sat in a hundred times before, the sun started to set. The sky lit up in a purpley orange, and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a minute, trying to let nature’s beauty lift my spirit. When I opened them, my gaze cast down the steps and snagged on a man stopped at the bottom, staring up at me.

I blinked a few times, assuming my imagination was playing tricks on me.

But it wasn’t.

My heart seemed to skip every other beat as Hudson climbed the steps to where I sat.

“Mind if I sit with you?” His face was unreadable.

“No, of course not.”

Hudson settled in next to me on the marble step. His legs spread wide, and he clasped his hands between his knees and stared down for the longest time. It gave me a chance to look at him. Only a week or so had passed since I’d last seen him, yet I could tell he’d lost some weight. His face looked drawn, he had dark circles ringing his eyes, and his skin—normally tan and bright—looked sallow and dull.

So many questions ran through my head. Had he come looking for me? Or had he come to do his own thinking? Was he okay? What had transpired over the last week? Based on Hudson’s face, it looked like things had taken a turn for the worse. But it also seemed like he had something to say, and whatever it was, wasn’t easy. So I fished inside my purse for the Hershey bar and offered it to him.

He smiled sadly. “You look like you could use it as much as I could. Wanna share?”

For the next ten minutes, we sat next to each other in silence on the steps of the New York Public Library—the place he’d gotten married, the place we’d met, the place his parents, whose relationship he revered so much, had also said their vows—and shared a chocolate bar while watching the sunset.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better. How about you?”

He smiled sadly. “Same.”

Again we were quiet for long moments.

“I’m sorry I disappeared for a while,” he finally said. “I needed some time to figure things out.”

I shifted and turned to face him, though he continued to stare forward and not look at me while I spoke. “Did you?” I asked. “Figure things out, I mean?”

He shrugged. “As much as I can, I guess.”

I nodded.

Hudson stared out at the sunset while tears pooled in his eyes. He swallowed before he spoke. “Jack admitted it.”

My heart ached. I had no idea what we were to each other anymore, but that didn’t stop me from offering compassion. I clasped my hand with his and held it tight. “I’m sorry, Hudson. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I decided not to speak to Lexi about it.”

Wow. I would’ve thought that was the first place he’d go. “Okay…”

“The only thing letting her know would accomplish is giving me the satisfaction of screaming at her. It wouldn’t do me any good, nor Charlie. My head isn’t screwed on straight enough to deal with things. As far as I’m concerned, Lexi is the enemy, and it’s never a good idea to let the enemy know your plans. I need to know exactly where I stand, and if need be, what my rights are, before dealing with her.” Hudson swallowed again. His voice was hoarse when he continued. “Charlie is my daughter. That’s not going to change if…if…” He couldn’t even say the words.

Tears filled my eyes. “You’re absolutely right. And you’re an amazing father—an amazing man for putting Charlie’s feelings first at a time when it would’ve been really easy to be irrational.”

“I did get our DNA tested, though. I swabbed her cheek while she was sleeping and dropped it off at the lab yesterday, along with a sample of my own. I don’t really want to know the results, but I feel like it would be irresponsible not to. God forbid something happens and she needs blood or something.” He paused, and this time he failed at holding back his emotions. His voice broke. “I’ll know in about a week.”

He hadn’t given me any indication that things between us were okay. But that didn’t matter. Hudson was a broken man, and I couldn’t just sit here and watch him fall apart. I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Hudson.”

His shoulders shook as I held him. He made no sound, but I knew he was crying because I felt the wetness on my neck where his face was buried. I thought he might feel better if he got it out—crying is a physical release of pain. But I also knew the type of man Hudson was. He would keep some of it in to torture himself—because deep down, he probably felt like it was partly his fault. He would blame himself for working too much and not giving his wife enough attention, or not bringing home flowers for no reason. It was misplaced guilt, of course, but he was such an honorable man, I was certain he wouldn’t see it that way.

Eventually, Hudson pulled back. He looked straight into my eyes for the first time. “I’m sorry I needed some time apart.”