Brenda Foster met me on the marble steps of the San Antonio event center, blocking the doors with her arms folded over her pearls.

Six weeks after the wedding that never was, the consequences reached their final, crushing crescendo.

I was sitting in my private office at St. Luke's, writing up discharge papers for a young patient, when my phone rang. The screen displayed an unknown number, but when I answered, Andrew’s frantic, desperate voice came through the speaker.

"Sam! Sam, please don't hang up!" he begged, his voice raspy and slurred, sounding completely unlike the polished real estate broker I had known.

"Andrew?" I said, keeping my tone level and professional. "How did you get this number?"

"I'm at the bar near your old apartment, Sam," he babbled, the noise of background clinking glass audible. "Gemma left me. She packed her bags this morning and went back to her parents in El Paso! She took the car, Sam! She said I was a financial liability!"

I leaned back in my office chair, listening without a single trace of sympathy. "Gemma entered that relationship for status and money, Andrew. When the money vanished, why are you surprised that she vanished too?"

"I made a mistake, Sam!" he sobbed openly into the phone. "My mother manipulated me! She kept telling me you didn't love me, that you preferred the hospital over our life! I was stupid, Sam! Please, just let me see you. We can fix this. I can tell the firm you didn't know about the joint accounts—"

"Andrew, listen to me very carefully," I interrupted, my voice dropping into a cold, sharp line. "You didn't make a mistake. You made a choice. You chose to cheat on me for six months. You chose to put my ring on my best friend's finger. You chose to humiliate me on the steps of the venue while I was saving a child's life."

"Sam—"

"Do not call this number again," I said firmly. "If you do, I will file a formal restraining order with the San Antonio Police Department. Goodbye, Andrew."

I hung up the phone, blocked the number immediately, and set the device down on my desk.

Ten minutes later, my office door opened, and Zachary stepped inside. He was wearing a dark blue suit today, having just come from a city council meeting regarding a new green park project his firm was building near the river.

He looked at my face, instantly picking up on the quiet energy in the room. "Was that him?"

"He called to tell me Gemma left him," I said, offering a small, ironic smile. "He wanted to know if we could fix things."

Zachary walked over to my desk, leaning his hands on the edge, looking down at me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him to lose my number," I replied softly.

Zachary smiled, a slow, breathtaking expression that transformed his rugged face. He reached out, his warm, strong fingers gently brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Good," he whispered. "Because I'm taking you and Paisley out to dinner at the river walk tonight, and I don't want any ghosts at our table."

My heart did a sudden, delightful flip inside my chest. "Is this a date, Mr. Howard?"