The strap of my heels bit into my skin as I stomped across the sidewalk, down the streets. My fists clenched, jaws straining under my gritted teeth and red spots dotted the sides of my vision.

You got it, I was angry. Fuming.

The picture of Ian and the blond head surfaced my mind for the hundredth time since the last fifteen minutes, and I internally groaned.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I should not be bothered if he was hugging, or kissing, or screwing any woman. He could. I couldn't possibly chain him down to my bed and forbid him from setting eyes on any other female. Anyone other than me.

In simpler words, I shouldn't care.

But that pep talk did little to explain the reason why my blood was gushing to my ears and heart pounding in my chest.

I told myself that it was because I was walking faster than anyone should probably walk in high heels, and momentarily, I slowed down. Honking of the cars and roaring of the buses were almost deafening, as I turned into a lone roadside park and slumped down onto a nearby bench behind a bush.

My heart briefly regained its normal pace as I buried my face in my hands. The office Romance slideshow-with a perticular dark haired, blue eyed hero and a scrawny blonde-was still flickering in my mind, refusing to leave me alone. It was ridiculous how I was even bothered by it.

First, I had no idea Dr Nathaniel C was Ian Nathaniel Cole. I should have known. Fuck, I should've known. Or at least I should've turned back when that old lady at the reception told me Dr Cole was expecting me. One glance at the notepad on the counter had cleared my doubts when I read the full name of Dr Cole.

Second, I walked into my to-be psychiatrist's office and see a blonde leech clinging to his neck, ready to suck him off blood. Worst of all, we'd locked eyes in his moment. And he looked surprised and shocked and guilty and all those things I was probably imagining.

I groaned against my palm.

Who was that blonde anyways? Girlfriend, maybe? Friend? Patient? Bloodsucking shifter leech-human?

I huffed out an irritated breath and leaned back on the chair, staring up at the hovering grey clouds. I wished I could handle things as well as Michael used to. But I had no idea what Michael would say about this... whatever this was between me and his best friend.

What was I even doing? Holding onto something so desperately that would never return. Never be mine. Trying so hard to be noticed by him yet at the same time not be remembered. Because sometimes, memories were better off left unrecalled. And new beginnings was a simpler substitute. Harmless.

But what would happen when he actually remembered? When he'd really look at me and-

He would most probably despise me. He would hate me for the rest of his life and somehow, I was not ready for that, yet.

A sound of frustration left my lips and my eyes fell shut, as I tried to regain my equilibrium. There was no use of recalling the past when it was only me who remembered it. Thankfully.

Just as I steadied my feet on the grass to stand up and return to my cranky hotel, a melody; a gentle, faint tune, brushed past me like the cool breeze of the park. I reached into the pocket of my pencil skirt and fished out my phone, and frowned when I was met with a pitch-black screen. It wasn't my phone ringing.

Instinctively, my eyes roamed around me, trying to spot the source of that pleasant tune and when I realized it was coming from somewhere nearby, I pleasantly welcomed the distraction. I straightened from the bench and my feet moved on purpose, dragging me into the direction of it melody.

Vaguely, I recognized the instrument strumming. A guitar.

The melody, soft and soothing, enveloped and dissolved around me as I wandered into the park, graciously ignoring a couple canoodling on a bench. It got closer and clearer as I approached the far end of the greens, and there, about ten feet away from me, a hand leaned out from behind a big, finely trimmed bush, pale fingers gently gliding over the neck of the guitar.

That tune is so beautiful.

Purposefully, I tilted my head to a side, ineffectively trying to see the face of the mystery musician, but it was a 'he' and he was safely shielded behind the bush that would almost reach up to my chest.

Although I had no hint to his face or expression, I could sense by the gentleness of his touch on the strings that he was lost in the music flowing out of the guitar. And so was I. Hell, I'd dragged myself here for it.

And who wouldn't? Music was a free therapy. Like right now, it ridiculously untied my tangled thoughts of a perticular couple and pushed it to somewhere at the back of my brain. Somewhere I wouldn't easily remember it.

Why can't I play a musical instrument like that?

Something inside me told me I should go and thank him. For knowingly or unknowingly, he did help me break off my agonizing chain of thoughts. Maybe I could ask for his number and take him on a date. Hell, I could do anything to permanently erase that image of Ian and that blonde from my mind.

And if he was dating, which he could, so could I. I was a young, wild-at-heart divorcee who had a lifetime to see new people. And I wouldn't let anything get in way.

I took one determined step toward the guitar guy, and the loud ring of my phone went off. Louder than I had expected. Louder than the guitar.

And to my misfortune, the music stopped.

Shit!

His fingers ceased over the neck, perfectly still, which almost meant he wasn't playing for anyone but himself. Or maybe he didn't expect an intruder. Of course he didn't. Whatever it was, the sound of my ringtone screaming and the now stillness of his fingers urged me to turn around and walk away, almost embarrassedly. So I did.

I scowled at the damn gadget, and pulled it out of my pocket while storming past the couple on the bench who stopped the kiss midway and glance at me with a concerned look. I couldn't are less because hell, I had just lost a potential date.

"What?" I snapped, striding back to the bench I had sat on earlier, still frowning because I didn't have a chance to talk to that guitar guy.

"Miss. Adams?"

I froze in my steps, heels digging into the soft grass underneath me as the atmosphere suddenly chilled around me. The wind blew ticklish across my arms, and I shivered at the oh-so-familiar voice. I wasn't halluci-hearing, was I?

Ian cleared his throat stiffly, and I almost stumbled face down over the bench when his voice returned, hoarse and authoritative and stern.

"I was really expecting to see you today. Our appointment was due half an hour ago." He said, jumping straight to the point, and I blinked forward at nothing. He sounded so good over the phone. I could hear him all day.

But wait...

"How did you get my number?" I asked, ignoring his question.

He actually rang me up to remind me that he was expecting to see me while he was busy cuddling with other patients or whoever in his clinic. I wanted to scoff. The guts of this ridiculously gorgeous man.

"I might have had to reach out to your physician for that. Are you coming?"

I was pretty sure we made eye contact during his...whatever he was doing with that woman. And he could still stand to face me, after knowing I saw them. Either he was shameless, or he thought I misjudged the situation. Which I did not.

Or did I?

"Well?" His voice turned colder than the atmosphere above me, and I let out a fake sound of realization, successfully covering a shiver at his tone.

"Ah, my apologies Doc. I did drop by, you see. But it seemed you were quite...occupied." I emphasized the last word with a pause. "I did not want to disturb you." I didn't even try to hide the annoyance in my tone now. If he was unfazed. I was shameless.

Two could play this game.

"Yes, I am sorry about that. I had to deal with some personal matters." He paused, as if carefully considering his next sentence. "Would you like to drop in now?"

Personal matters? "I don't think so."

"Why not?" I heard his frown as he asked me, and a very devilish smirk tugged my lips up.

Oh Boy, a frowning Ian could be the hottest man in the room.

"Unfortunately, I am busy right now." I sat myself down on the bench, leaning back and crossing my legs over elegantly, the smile still persistent on my lips.

"Doing what?"

"Whatever it maybe. I don't see why it concerns you, Doc." I said, as sweetly as possible.

There was a pause, before he let out a breath, almost like a chuckle. The smile faded from my face, and the frown returned with double intensity. Was he laughing at me?

"I'm glad you find me hilarious, Dr Cole." I did nothing to mask the irritation in my voice as I said, and he inhaled sharply.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare Miss. Adams." He said, still very much grinning I assumed. "I just can't seem to figure out what's keeping you so busy in the middle of a park, alone and empty handed. Other than, of course, staring up at the heavens."

I froze, for the second time.

In the-

In the middle of the park.

Oh God.

I bolted up from the bench like I was a stretched rubber band let loose and swiftly turned around, eyes roaming over every face and vehicle I could spot moving across and away and toward the park. He was here. Somewhere close. I knew it. I squinted in the distance and there, it landed on the familiar black SUV, parked right across the road. The windows were rolled down, and I could clearly see his stupid grinning face from where I stood.

What the hell was he doing here?

And since when?

"Are you stalking me, Dr. Cole? Did someone ever tell you it's creepy and a crime?" My voice was bitter with realization that he had see me, grinning and frowning at the phone all this while, without my knowledge. And it was embarrassing as hell.

"I'd rather call it concern, Miss. Adams. The way you stormed out of my office, I had to make sure everything's okay." He cocked his head at me and I almost flushed. Almost. God, it was a wrong time to be turned on but I was. Because of a fucking head tilt.

And I was right. He did see me in his office. But fuck he saw me leaving too. Now that I looked back, that dramatic exit was a bit overboard. I shook off the thought.

"That doesn't explain why you followed me here." I masked a scowl and his eyes closed, head leaning back on the seat, giving me a distant view of a jawline that could slice me in half. Gladly.

"I was genuinely concerned, regardless of whatever you think." He said, voice placid and so raw that for a moment, I felt dizzy with his tone. The resemblance of that voice to the memories in my head was doing nothing to ease my uneasiness.

This was not good.

"Okay," I inhaled deeply and sighed out, blowing off the unwanted thoughts with it. "So," I motioned at myself, from head to feet although his eyes were closed. "Are you assured enough that I am fine?"

His eyes opened, and from the distance, I could just hint the frown drawing his brows together. "Yes."

I didn't understand the sudden change of expression. Man's mood swings were faster than mine on my periods. Wasn't he grinning at me a few seconds back?

"Please, Miss. Adams, do drop by tomorrow morning. At the same time. I'll reschedule the appointment." He paused again, as if hunting for words. I stared impassively, extremely focused on his face to speak anything at all. "Good day." He said, and hung up, without looking away, holding my gaze from that distance, and still somehow setting my face on fire.

"Bye." The words drew out even though I knew he couldn't hear me. Throwing me another, lingering glance, I watched as his engine growled from the distance than traced an invisible U on the road. And just like that, he was gone.

"Thanks." I paid the delivery man and shut the door behind him, the appetizing savory smell of Chinese food already gushing into my nostrils. My stomach growled in response.

I was starving because I hardly had anything since afternoon and I don't think two cups of black coffee was considered meal. And all I had was an apple for breakfast.

I clicked my tongue, recalling the falling numbers of my account balance when I checked the ATM in the morning. I needed to find a job as soon as possible. And that was what I had been doing all afternoon till evening. Hunting for jobs online. But I didn't find any which would let me through with my simple qualifications.

I served the still hot noodles and soup into two separate bowls. I had to do with these until I was able to find a job and get out of this hotel.

Their food was terrible as terrible could get. Taste as well as the cost. I slid onto the couch, folded my legs up and just as I dipped my spoon into the soup, my phone screamed for help from the bed.

I sighed, dropping the spoon back into the bowl with a clink.

One day, I was going to break that fucking thing with my bare hands.

I shuffled off the couch, the noodles watching me longingly as I scurried over to the phone. Keeping the events of the morning in check, I purposefully checked the caller ID to make sure it wasn't a perticular dark haired, blue eyed psychiatrist, calling to make sure I'm okay. But as soon as I checked the ID, blood drained off my face.

I dropped my hands in defeat. Not again. Not now. God, my life never got easier.

Slowly, my heart picked up the pace and I gulped a lump which felt like a stone in my throat.

"Hello?" My voice came out as stable as I could manage but a cold undercurrent ran beneath it, which I knew the person on the other end could point out.

"Maeve," Michael's voice instantly cocooned me into it's warm embrace, caressing my ear like a feather and I plopped down on the bed feeling loose-limbed.

I wouldn't help him again. Goddamn it, I was over him already.

My stomach churned, and I felt my appetite slowly fading away.

"What do you want?" My tone hardened and I could sense his shock from the other side by the long pause. Blood gushed in my veins and pounded in my ears. I needed to block his number. I would block his number. But when he finally spoke, I regretted my heartless attitude, my shoulders slumping in guilt.

"I'm sorry, Maeve. I know I shouldn't bother you this late." His voice fell and my fingers gripped the sheets on my side.

"It...it's fine. Never mind." Do mind and stop calling me.

Silence engulfed us once again as I heard his hushed breathing from the other side. But no words came from him. Or me.

"What is it, Michael?" I traced my throbbing temple, running two fingers over it. There was a pause again.

"Did you hear about Frank?"

My heart stopped at the mention of the name, eyes widening and fingers halting over my forehead.

Why was he bringing up him out of the blue?

And suddenly, a number of situations formed in my mind.

A stormy night...an abandoned mother...an oblivious kid.

I shut my eyes tightly, jaws tightening painfully under the pressure of my teeth.

"No." I tried to gulp down the next question but it came out anyway. "What about him?"

My heart was now thumping in my ears, an ache spreading slowly around my chest as I awaited the most obvious answer. My thoughts were scrambled, stomach coiling.

I was no longer hungry.

The last time I heard about Frank, he was in the hospital, battling lung cancer, and after that, I'd not wanted or bothered to dig in more.

"Maeve he..." Michael sighed, and then the words I most dreaded but expected, slipped through his lips and drowned down my ears. "He has passed."