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I laugh again.

Rachel: To the people who matter.

Rachel: Ick. That was way too serious.

Rachel: 2. Don’t take life too seriously.

Rachel: 3. Meet fascinating people.

And that’s it. She goes silent, never revealing the fourth or fifth resolution.

I shut down my phone to keep from being tempted to text Sadie. I’m sober. But I don’t need alcohol to want to reach out to her. Never left my apartment tonight. I decided to treat it like any other day. But I can’t keep from thinking about resolutions.

What do I want from 2010? Sleep. Yeah, right. I don’t see a peaceful night’s rest in my near future.

Where do I start?

I pull up the application on my laptop. Here, I guess. Start again on the other side of the country and leave all of the regrets behind. And try not to fuck it all up.

Kellan and Lowell take the company out for sushi and drinks the week after the holidays. Rachel’s team joins us. She’s very social, only coming over to talk with me intermittently. And she does most of the talking. Then she runs off to talk to someone else. I don’t leave my seat at the bar table the entire night.

“When should we go out?” Rachel props her head on her elbows, staring up at me with glassy blue eyes and a smile that reminds me of Cindy Lou Who from The Grinch. No idea where that came from. Oh, right. Collin had a crush on her when the Jim Carrey version released in seventh grade. Never let him live it down.

“Well?” she insists. Here I am thinking about someone I shouldn’t, and nearly forgot that I told the person in front of me to ask me out. I kind of wish she’d forgotten too. I’m not ready for in-person correspondence.

“Um.”

“How about after the next team meeting at the end of the month?” She offers, like she’s thought this through.

“Sure.” This will give me more time to get out of it. I like her energy. It’s infectious. But how do I tell her that I want to keep this simple?

“Darts and beers?” She’s not going to make that easy.

“Sounds good.”

Except with Rachel Walace, nothing’s ever what it’s meant to be. Not even darts and beers.

I made you a promise three years ago. Right here, watching the sun rising over this water in this exact spot.”

“I remember,” I say, resting my head on Jonathan’s shoulder. I rub my thumb along the band of the promise ring he gave to me that day. A pink-and-green watermelon tourmaline that resembles a Ring Pop. I learned the stone is connected to the heart and is meant to help me feel safe and calm. It wards off anxiety and promotes joy. It really is the perfect gem for me. And knowing he thought about its meaning when he selected it is only one of a million reasons he’s the love of my life.

“I’d like to revise that promise.”

I’m so, so sorry. Francine asked me to drop something off at the office, so I’m running late. Just go in when you arrive. I’ll be ready as fast as I can. I promise.”

The call ends. I stare at my phone screen. Then at the yellow house in front of me with the Accord in the driveway. I never found a way to back out of this commitment, and Rachel isn’t one to forget. So here I am, parked in front of her house.

I’m not dreading it. I could use a night outside my repetitive cycle of work, exercise, and occasional appearance at the pub. A way to escape my ruminations that only lead to sleepless nights and too much caffeine. And Rachel doesn’t remind me of my past. Even when I drew a line of comparison, she immediately revealed that she is nothing like anyone I’ve ever known. Maybe this will be good for me, to shake me out of my masochistic stupor.

When I reach the front door, I knock. I know Rachel said to enter, but it feels weird to just walk in. I hear footsteps rushing around upstairs. She probably didn’t hear me. I knock again as I turn the doorknob and hesitate. “Screw it.”

I push the door open and call, “Rach—” just as a voice hollers down from the top of the stairs, “I’ll be right—”

“Whoa.” We stare at each other. A girl, maybe a couple years younger than me, stands at the top of the stairs, paralyzed with shock. She's wrapped in a towel and dripping wet.

I should probably say something before she calls the police. “You’re not Rachel.”

My genius never ceases to amaze me. I want to roll my eyes at myself. If I were her, I would call the police.