But Peter was something else. Something in between. Friend and enemy. Lover and stranger. The man I’d sworn to love, honor, and cherish all the days of my life.

Yeah, that one. The one who’d chosen a belly button ring over a wedding ring.

The one whose face I pictured when I used to dream about this moment. This was the crawling-back scene, live and in color.

I tensed, wondering how I’d respond when he finally said the words.

“I’m lonely.” Not exactly the declaration I was waiting for, but that didn’t keep his words from smacking me right between the heart and the stomach. We’d been apart for nearly two years. Still, thinking of him as sad and lonely had a way of tugging at heartstrings I didn’t know were still attached to Peter.

He must have sensed my reaction, because he leaned a little nearer. “I’m not asking you to take me back, Annie,” he said, and before I could decide if this was good or bad, he went on. “I thought we could just… I don’t know…” He shrugged and pulled back, and when he removed his hand from mine, I sat back, too, and put my hands in my lap where they were safer. “I thought we could be friends. You know, like we used to be. I thought that maybe someday you’d understand.”

“About those mistakes you talked about?”

“About everything.” He scraped a hand through his hair. “I don’t mean right now. Tonight. I just thought if we started out slow…” He shot a shy smile my way and I was instantly transported back to the day we’d met. That was the way Peter had smiled at me then, and that smile had led to what I’d always thought was my very own personal happily-ever-after. “I miss you.” He looked relieved at having said the words. “I want you back in my life. That’s why when you asked me to come over and talk to you about cards…” He reached into the shopping bag he’d brought with him and put two decks of cards on the table, then reached in again and brought out a container of plastic poker chips. “I never thought the way to a woman’s heart was through Texas Hold’em. But hey, if that’s what it takes!” Peter laughed and pulled one of the decks of cards from its box. He ruffled the cards through his fingers, shuffling them. “Only, when we talked, you never explained why you wanted to learn to play cards. You guys here at the restaurant having some sort of fund-raising Texas Hold’em tournament? It’s the only thing I can really think of that would explain you wanting to gamble. Let’s face it, you’re not the type.”

I wasn’t, and I knew it. Which didn’t prevent me from asking, “What type am I?”

“Safe. Dependable. Reliable.” Believe me, Peter didn’t say any of this like it was anything to be ashamed of. He was just stating facts, and even though I knew the facts were facts and I wasn’t ashamed of them, either, I felt my spine stiffen. Just a little.

“Your personality doesn’t exactly mesh with the daring sort of spirit a person needs to be a gambler,” he pointed out. “Playing cards is like going on an adventure, see. Even the small-time kind of card games I get into. Each one is like a quest, a mission. And my job is to see if I can outwit the other guys at the table. Sometimes I do that by playing it safe. Other times I’ve got to bluff and take chances no sane person ever would. No offense, Annie, but you’re not that type. You like the straight and narrow. The safe. The secure. So if you want to learn to play Texas Hold’em, it must because of-”

“Murder. I’m investigating a murder.”

Peter lost his grip, and a few of the cards slipped out of his hand and landed on the floor. He bent to retrieve them and when he finally sat up and got settled, there was color in his cheeks. He whistled below his breath.

Believe me, I did not hold any of this against him. It isn’t every day that someone reveals that she’s looking into a murder. Especially someone who isn’t with the police.

So Peter’s surprise… well, I could understand that.

And I was prepared for his questions, too.

But when he came out with a skeptical, “You? Investigating a murder? You’re kidding me, right?” I guess I sort of lost it.

“You think it’s funny?” I asked him, even though he didn’t say he did. “You think I’m not smart enough? That I don’t have the nerve?”

“I didn’t say that.” He reached for his beer and took another drink, looking at me the same way the students back in class did when I reached for that first citrus juicer and they were afraid to see what might happen next. “I just never thought of you as the type.”

“Which type is that? The type who has to make her own way in life after her husband walks out on her?”

He wasn’t expecting that, but then, I guess I wasn’t, either. Even so, after two years of holding in my anger, it felt good.

Peter discounting my feelings did not.

As if it was all nothing, he waved a hand in the air. “That was a long time ago, Annie.”

“You think?”

“I think you’re still angry. It makes me wonder why.”

“Not for the reason you think.” Of course, I didn’t know exactly what he was thinking, but it sure felt good to pretend I did.

“You’re serious.” He gave me a sidelong look. “I mean about investigating murders. Like you’re some kind of detective or something. It’s-”

“Amazing?”

“I was going to say a little delusional.”

“Because you don’t think I’m capable.”

“Because I don’t think a bank teller who isn’t a bank teller anymore knows anything about murder.”

“Except I do. I’ve already solved three.”

“You don’t have to try and impress me.”

“Is that what you think I’m trying to do?”

“I think what you should be trying to do is calm down and get a grip on reality. Nobody just investigates murders. Nobody like you, anyway. And I’m happy to teach you how to play poker. Honest, I am. But the least you can do is tell me why you want to learn, without making up fantastic stories.”

“People don’t investigate murders?”

“Not people like you.”

It was as simple as that.

At least to Peter.

“So if I was using a cooking torch, and I almost started the kitchen on fire, you wouldn’t let me use the cooking torch again?”

“We’re talking about cooking torches?” When I didn’t answer, he gritted his jaw. “No, of course I wouldn’t let you use it again. If you’re incapable-”

“And if I wanted to play cards with someone you thought it was next to impossible for me to play cards with, you’d tell me to get lost. Or would you tell me to learn anyway, because you knew I’d find a way to make things happen the way I wanted them to happen?”

“You’re scaring me now.” He pushed his chair away from the table-and from me. “You’re not making any sense.”

“And you’re not giving me any answers.”

“Because there’s nothing to answer. If you wanted to play poker with someone you could never play poker against would I teach you to play poker? That’s crazy talk, Annie. I think the fumes from the cooking oil around here are getting to your brain.”

“And I think…” I pushed back from the table, too, and stood.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’ll be right back.” It wasn’t an answer. He didn’t deserve one, and I didn’t owe him one, either.

Instead, I strode into the kitchen and even though Jim was just about to plate up poached eggs on top of creamed spinach and artichoke hearts, I walked right up to him and gave him a big kiss.

Our students thought either it was cute or I was a lunatic. Uneasy and not sure how to respond, a couple applauded.

And Jim?

When I was done, he looked at me as if I was crazy. But there was a twinkle in his eyes.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“It’s for you. You’re the one who told me I have to do what makes me happy.”

He caught his breath. “And…?”

“And you, Jim MacDonald…” Just to be certain he knew I was serious, I gave him a quick kiss. “There isn’t a shred of doubt in my mind, and there shouldn’t be in yours. You are absolutely the one who makes me happy.”