For a moment, Trent Marlowe thought he was dreaming.
When he first looked up from the latest article on selective mutism and saw her standing in the doorway of his office, he was certain he had fallen asleep.
But even though the article was dry, the last time heâd actually nodded out while sitting at a desk had been during an eight-oâclock Pol-Sci 1 class, where the lackluster professorâs monotone voice had been a first-class cure for insomnia.
Heâd been a college freshman then.
And so had she.
Blinking, Trent glanced down at his appointment calendar and then up again at the sad-eyed, slender blonde. It was nine in the morning and he had a full day ahead of him, beginning with a new patient, a Cody Greer. Cody was only six years old and was brought in by his mother, Laurel Greer.
When heâd seen it on his schedule, the first name had given him a fleeting momentâs pause. It made him remember another Laurel. Someone who had been a very important part of his life. But that was years ago and if he thought of her every now and then, it was never in this setting. Never walking into his office. After all, like his stepmother, he had become a child psychologist, and Laurel Valentine was hardly a child. Even when sheâd been one.
Laurel wasnât that unusual a name. It had never occurred to him that Laurel Greer and Laurel Valentine were one and the same person.
And yet, here she was, in his doorway. Just as achingly beautiful as ever.
Maybe more so.
Trent didnât remember rising from behind his desk. Didnât remember opening his mouth to speak. His voice sounded almost surreal to his ear as he said her name. âLaurel?â
And then she smiled.
It was a tense, hesitant smile, but still Laurelâs smile, splashing sunshine through the entire room. That was when he knew he wasnât dreaming, wasnât revisiting a space in his mind reserved for things that should have been but werenât.
Laurel remained where she was, as if she had doubts about taking this last step into his world. âHello, Trent. How are you?â
Her voice was soft, melodic. His was stilted. âStartled.â
Heâd said the first word that came to him. But this wasnât a word association test. Trent laughed dryly to shake off the bewildered mood that closed around him.
How long had it been? Over seven years now. And, at first glance, she hadnât changed. She still had a shyness that made him think of a fairy-tale princess in need of rescue.
Confusion wove its way through the moment. Had she come here looking for him? Or was it his professional services she needed? But he didnât treat adults.
âIâm a child psychologist,â he heard himself telling her.
Her smile widened, so did the radiance. But that could have just been a trick of the sunshine streaming in the window behind him.
âI know,â she said. âI have a child.â
Something twisted inside of him, but he forced himself to ignore it. Trent tilted his head slightly as he looked behind her, but there didnât seem to be anyone with Laurel, at least not close by. Trent raised an inquiring eyebrow as his eyes shifted back to her.
âHeâs at home,â she explained. âWith my mother.â
He looked at his watch even though three minutes ago heâd known what time it was. Right now he wasnât sure of anything. The ground had opened up beneath him and heâd fallen down the rabbit hole.
âShouldnât he be in school?â
Laurel sighed before answering, as if some burden had made her incredibly tired. âThese days, he doesnât want to go anymore.â Laurel pressed her lips together and looked at him hopefully. âCan I come in?â
Idiot, Trent berated himself. But the sight of his first, no, his only love after all these years had completely thrown him for a loop, incinerating his usual poise.
He forced himself to focus. To relax. With effort, he locked away the myriad questions popping up in his brain.
âOf course. Sorry. Seeing you just now really caught me off guard.â He gestured toward the two chairs before his sleek, modern desk. âPlease, take a seat.â