Missy still had no idea how Lucy felt. Correction. Had felt. That was in the past. But to say she never thought of him, surrounded by warm happiness, would have been a lie. After that night, Lucy had embarked on a plan to whip her body into shape and she thought of Brantley every time she reached for a piece of chocolate or was tempted to skip the gym. Since, she had learned how to balance an occasional treat and a lazy day, but not back then. In those days, she never deviated from her eating and exercise plan. After all, the scale and size labels in her clothes told her she had been successful, even if her heart and head did not believe it.

She had just come out of her mid-morning class—Form, Space, and Order—when she checked her phone and found she had a voicemail from a number she did not recognize.

Nothing could have prepared her for that message. His voice was still like warm caramel. “Lucy, this is Brantley Kincaid. I got your number from Missy. I’m in Savannah for a few days for an architectural restoration seminar that the college is having here. Anyway. Haven’t seen you in a long time. Give me a call back, if you would. I thought we could have lunch and catch up. Bye.”

She stood outside her classroom door stunned. Ha. More like Missy thought they could have lunch and catch up. Missy wanted all of the parts of her life to move together like clockwork, and that included her friends. Lucy could just hear her now. “Oh, good. You can call Lucy while you’re there! Here’s the number. Brantley! Are you listening to me? Put Lucy’s number in your phone!”

As far as Lucy knew, Brantley hadn’t even known where she was in school. If he had thought of it at all, he would have probably assumed she was at Ole Miss, where her parents taught—if he even remembered that.

She almost didn’t call him back. He wouldn’t try again. He’d only been acting on Missy’s directive and he would have fulfilled that now, whether they actually spoke or not. But she talked to Missy almost daily and she knew Missy talked to Brantley nearly as often. Likely, she’d get a call later demanding to know why Lucy had not called Brantley back and insisting that she do so, posthaste.

Besides, why shouldn’t she return the call? She reminded herself that her humiliation of four years ago was her secret and hers alone. And it had happened when she was fifteen, for goodness sake. At nineteen, she was a different person—different body and different attitude.

She would meet him for lunch tomorrow or the next day, and that would be that. Missy would be satisfied, and Lucy just might bury some demons in the process.

No time like the present. He answered on the first ring.

“Lucy Mead!” he said like she had made his day—the way he used to make hers when he waltzed into Annelle’s shop to lean on the counter and talk to her.

“Hello, Brantley.” She could think of nothing else to say.

“So are you free? I know it’s barely eleven o’clock but I am about to starve.”

Now? He wanted to have lunch now? She looked down at her clothes. Khaki knee shorts, Keds, and—since it was still cool mornings—a Hilton Head sweatshirt. Not exactly what she would have chosen to wear for a reunion with the boy who had broken her fifteen-year-old heart. It would have been easy to say she had class. He’d probably be relieved. But that wasn’t true; she was free until two o’clock. Besides, what did it matter? She’d dressed up for him once. She wouldn’t do it again.

“I could do that. Where are you?”

“Uh. Just a second.” He took the phone away from his mouth, but she heard him say, “Where am I?” Then he came back to her. “Eichberg Hall. With one of my professors in his friend’s office.”

She should have known. The school was scattered all over the city but she and Brantley Kincaid happened to be in the same building. No time to even collect herself, unless she lied, but why should she?

“How about that?” she said. “Exactly where I am. Architecture and interior design are in the same building. I’ll meet you out front.”

Though she took a detour into the restroom to comb her hair and touch up her makeup, she found herself waiting for him. Some things never changed.

But he had. For the better. The planes of his face were sharper and his formerly lanky frame was now a man’s body that had seen some gym time. He was tan and, though it was a little shorter and sleeker, he still had enough moonbeam-kissed hair to toss.

Dressed like a college senior at a professional seminar should dress, he made her feel even more childlike and sloppy in her attire.

He came toward her with his arms outstretched. The last time she’d seen him, they had hugged but he’d been despondent. Now he laughed.

“You are gorgeous,” he said. “Not that you weren’t always.”

Former fat people got that a lot.

“And you aren’t in your seminar,” she said.

“Starts tomorrow, though there’s some early stuff that I’m going to do with my professor and a couple of other Vandy students.”

“I’d heard a little about the seminar,” she said. “Our majors are first cousins.”

“Kissing cousins?” he said and gave her a little peck on the cheek, entirely brotherly. “Lucy, you just look so good.” And he gave her another little squeeze.

Did he have to sound so amazed?

“So you said you were hungry.”

“Yes, and I am entirely at your mercy. I know nothing.” He knew how to flirt and smile. He was proving that right now.

“There’s a deli not far from here,” she said, “if you don’t mind walking a few blocks. It’s been around forever. It’s in a great old building and they bake their own bread.” More importantly, while the place had character, there was nothing about it that said date place. She’d made that mistake once.

“I’d love to walk,” he said. “The buildings here are incredible and there’s no better way to see them. This whole city is a seminar.”

They walked the four blocks, stopping every so often to admire the architecture. He showed her things she’d walked by a hundred times and never noticed. The conversation was easy and it got easier as they ate. They talked about Missy, their classes, and what was going on in Merritt.

“So what are you up to next year?” she asked as he finished his cheesecake.

“Grad school. You?”

She laughed. “Right back here, if they’ll have me. And the next, and the next, and the next.”

“Right,” he said. “I forget you aren’t the same age as Missy and me.”

“No. I can’t quite catch up.” She looked at her cell. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got class.” And she thought that would be it. Duty done. They could report in to Missy. Move on. But it had been pleasant.

He laid his hand on hers. “Listen, Lucy. This was great. This afternoon, they’ve fixed it up for us to tour some historic houses around town. Tonight my professor has invited my classmates and me to dinner with a couple of the presenters. But would you like to get a drink later? I think I’ll be done by nine at the latest.”

She froze. Was he asking her for a date? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, this was not at Missy’s behest. She never even considered saying no.

For someone who had promised herself that she wouldn’t dress up for Brantley, Lucy spent an extraordinary amount of time shaving, plucking, blow drying, and applying makeup. She would have gotten her hair cut, but she was afraid he’d notice and think she did it for him.

The question of what to wear was a hard one. Having a drink meant a bar, but what kind of bar? She had not been to a lot of bars and she had done no drinking. In fact, she had been to exactly one Savannah bar to celebrate a classmate’s birthday and that had been months ago. Being underage didn’t slow many SCAD students down, but calories were a precious commodity that she preferred to spend on healthy food, not liquor. Plus, she hadn’t clicked with that many people, so there hadn’t been a lot of invitations. Brantley was probably staying at one of the nice historic hotels. What if he wanted her to come there? The bar there would be sophisticated, unlike the college hangouts.

It made sense that he would expect her to drive. He’d flown here. Or maybe he’d have someone drop him off and expect her to know about a place within walking distance, which just brought her back to that whole bar ignorance thing.

Oh, Lord. What if he did want her to pick a place, like he had at lunch? She supposed she could take him to that one waterfront bar, if she could remember where it was. Damn. Might as well say, Brantley, I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t go out much. I don’t have many friends. Correction. I have no friends here; I have acquaintances who I study with. We don’t do that in bars. We go to the studio and the library. Hey! Want to go to the library? They have a water fountain.

Maybe she could suggest coffee. She knew of some coffee shops. It wasn’t against the law for her to drink coffee and there were no calories.

Well, she’d worry about that when the time came. If the time came. He might not even call.

She opened her closet. The trick was to pick something that wasn’t too much or too little. Black linen pants and that pink top would be all right, but she wanted something more festive. She wanted to burst like spring, like the night around her. She shuffled through outfit after outfit, but there was nothing. Most of it was out of season and the rest of it wasn’t quite right. She should have gone shopping. Brantley might notice a fresh haircut, but he would not have known if her clothes were new.

Maybe she should just go with jeans and a cotton sweater. That was safe, probably even in a nice hotel bar.