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"Thank you for letting my brother move on," he said. "I didn't think you had it in you to allow him the chance to be happy."

I frowned at him. "What do you mean now, Cam?"

"He actually likes Hilary and deserves someone who will actually love him back, you know."

I was mad, and I had enough of his meanness, and I blurted back, "I do love him, you know."

And I did love him. No one had been there for me like he had been. No one sat there and listened to me ramble on and on for hours about crap just for the fun of it, but he did. I appreciated my friendship with Con. I loved having him around. I craved his face and his laughter all the time.

Cam said to me, "No, you don't, because if you did, you would be at the restaurant right now making sure he knew that."

And he was right, you know. I would be, if I loved him.

I looked at the owner's son and said, "I need a break," and pulled my apron off, and I ran. I ran in the snow to the restaurant. There was only one in town open at this hour, one that wasn't in my hotel or in Con's, and I ran in the front door and spotted him at dinner with Hilary. She was leaning in toward him, smiling; his head was thrown back in laughter. They looked good together. They looked happy. And they both deserved to be that way.

But my feet carried me forward on their own accord. It was then Con's eyes flicked to me as he said, "You OK?"

No, I wasn't OK, but I didn't say anything at all. I just kept walking to him. He quickly stood from his seat as he opened his arms, and I stepped into them, my face buried into his front as I felt tears run down my face. Tears that came without my permission. I never showed emotions. I never showed anyone what was underneath, but here I was, crying in the restaurant while his date sat there confused.

He pulled me away and placed one hand on each of my cheeks and said, "Are you OK? What happened?"

I sniffled and looked him dead in those green eyes and said, "I was jealous."

He beamed at me and said, "There's no need to be," then kissed my forehead and said, "Go back to work, Geri. I'm sure your boss is about to kill you if you don't go back."

He was right, of course. I had run out of there like a cat with its tail on fire.

I nodded and turned and left the restaurant and headed back to work, wiping myself, trying to hide what I knew would be mascara runs down my face. As I came back up to the bar door, Cam stood there with his arms crossed and smirked at me as he said, "You break his heart, and I'll break your face."

Smug bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing.

I pushed past him and back into the bar, where the birthday celebration was in full swing. The owner's son—Mike—gave me a questioning look, but I just shook my head and tied my apron back on. I wasn't about to explain my emotional meltdown to my boss.

For the next hour, I moved on autopilot, pouring drinks, making small talk, collecting empties. My mind was elsewhere, replaying those moments in the restaurant over and over. The look on Con's face when he saw me. The warmth of his arms around me. The way he'd said "There's no need to be jealous" with such certainty.

What did that mean? Was he just being kind? Or was there something more to it?

And what about Hilary? I'd left her sitting there, probably confused and hurt. I wasn't normally the type to interfere with someone else's date. That wasn't me. I didn't do dramatic scenes or emotional outbursts.

Except, apparently, I did now.

Around 10 PM, the bar door opened, and my heart skipped when I saw Con walk in. Alone. He scanned the room until his eyes found mine, and then he made his way to the bar, weaving through the crowd of birthday revellers.

"Hey," he said, sliding onto a stool.

"Hey," I replied, suddenly shy. "Um, can I get you something?"

"Just water for now," he said.

I filled a glass and placed it in front of him, very aware of Mike watching us from the other end of the bar.

"Where's Hilary?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"I walked her to her room," Con said simply.

"Oh." I busied myself wiping down the already clean counter. "I'm sorry about earlier. I don't know what came over me."

"I think you do," Con said, his voice gentle but firm.