Mary tapped her fingers along her phone as she debated. There was one person she could call who would have Monica’s number, one someone whose number she’d memorized months ago.

A chill went over her body when she considered her options.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she dialed.

In a completely childish act, she chanted in her head that the call go to voice mail. On the fourth ring she held her breath.

“Hello?”

One simple greeting and her insides did the wobble. “Hi, Glen.”

“I saw your name pop up on my screen and thought, no way. After all this time she finally calls.”

His words made her pause. “Y-you were supposed to call me.”

“I was?”

She squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Yes, you . . . never mind. That isn’t why I’m calling.”

“Of course not. Because if you were calling for that reason, you would have done so before now.”

She remembered the words he’d said to her the last time they’d had a private conversation. The invitation is always open.

“So there is a statute of limitations on your invitation,” she said, her voice clipped. “Good to know.” Not that she’d planned on taking him up on said invite.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Whatever! I’m calling to get Monica’s number. Do you have it?”

“I do have it.”

She waited.

“Well?”

“Well what?” He was playing coy.

“Monica’s number. What is it?”

“Don’t you have it?”

She wanted to bang her head on the steering wheel. “I do, at home. I have a new phone. I didn’t transfer her number into it.”

“Oh.” He had a lift to his voice. “But you transferred mine?”

“No!” The man was exasperating. “I knew your number.”

“You memorized it?”

“Yes. No . . . darn it.” She hadn’t meant to tell him that. “Can I have her number, please?”

His soft laugh had her gripping the steering wheel.

“Glen!”

“Am I the only one who finds it interesting that you memorized a number you had no intention of using?”

“Am I the only one who recognizes how huge your ego is?”

He laughed. “I think there are a lot of people who know that about me.”

“How proud you are.” The reason it would never have worked between them.

“Life is short, Counselor. Insecurity doesn’t move one forward in life. You should know that.”

“Of course I know that.” I don’t always practice it, but I know it. “Now are you going to give me Monica’s number or not?”

“Someone is upset.”

“Someone is infuriating.”

He laughed again. “Do you have a pen?”

She opened the glove compartment in her car and pulled out a notepad and pen. “I’m ready.”

She jotted down the number Glen finally surrendered.

“What’s the big hurry?” he asked.

“Dakota’s in labor. Walt asked me to call your brother and Monica so they could take a conference call or something.”

“So Junior is finally here.”

“Soon, in any event.”

“Give my best to Mom and Dad.” He sounded sincere.

“I will.”

She paused, waiting for him to say something . . . good-bye, great talking to ya . . . something.

Silence.

“Glen?”

“Yeah?”

The man made her crazy. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay, go then.”

“I will . . . I’m going.”

He didn’t hang up.

“Glen?”

“Yeah?”

“You make me crazy!” she all but yelled. “I’m deleting your number from my brain.”

He laughed. “No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I’m hanging up now . . .”

No click on his end.

Mary’s thumb hovered over the cancel button on the steering wheel of her car.

When it became obvious he wasn’t going to say anything, she let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m . . . oh, forget it.” She hung up to his laughter.

Glen leaned back in his office chair, his feet resting on the edge of his desk, and stared at the cell phone in his hand.

She’d called.

Took the woman damn near a year, but she’d called.

Sure, the excuse about needing Monica’s number was handy, and maybe she actually did need Monica’s number . . . or maybe Mary wanted to open a conversation between them and wasn’t sure how to do it and save face.

He thumbed through his contacts and dialed his brother.

“Hey, Glen.”

Gotta love cell phones. Everyone knows who’s on the line before they answer.

“Trent, you sound good.”

The youngest Fairchild was the most allergic to the office. He only came in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and avoided that whenever he could. Didn’t mean the man didn’t work, he simply didn’t do it at a desk.

“I was just there yesterday.”

“But it feels like forever.”

“Bite me.”

Glen laughed. “Listen, I just got a call from Mary, she’s trying to get ahold of Monica.”