Bella POV

It was Sunday and I had spent the morning at the office. It was my favorite time to be there because the place was deserted. It's amazing how much I could get done when I didn't have the burden of being around people. Although I had to admit that it was a little disconcerting how eerily quiet the financial district was on Sunday. It was like a ghost town.

I'd cut my work day short because I needed to come home and get ready for my (cringe) date. I kept hoping this moment would never come, but now Vaughn would be in the lobby in fifteen minutes. He'd wanted to pick me up at my penthouse, but the lobby was as close as I would let him get to where I actually lived. I looked at the clock again and felt the nausea rise in my throat. Maybe after all my vain hopes that I would get sick and be able to cancel this date had finally worked and I'd been lucky enough to contract a virulent case of the stomach flu. A mild case of E-Coli wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps Scarlet Fever.

I sat down heavily on the edge of my bed. I didn't want to do this. I hated to have the memory of getting ready for a date be reignited. I'd made a solemn vow that this would never happen again, and inexplicably, here I was. What if he tried to hold my hand? I only remembered cold hands entwined through mine and I didn't want anyone else's warm hands to come in and change the memory.

One of my greatest fears was that my mind really was like a sieve. What if, little by little, it all slipped away? What if I slowly stopped remembering? I cursed him frequently for taking his pictures when he left, but part of me knew that if he hadn't, I would have been looking at them far too often. I rubbed my temples with my fingertips. The balance of it all was still so exhausting. Every moment of every day I struggled not to think of him, but I also knew that I must not forget him. I was so terrified of forgetting him. As long as I could close my eyes and still see his face, as long as I knew he still existed in the world, I could last another day.

Sitting down wasn't working. I stood up and began to pace. My hands instinctively wrapped around my middle as I reminded myself that this would only last a few hours and then I'd never have to see this Thomas guy again. When he was a few minutes late, I started to gain hope that he wouldn't show, but all too soon, the bell rang and I headed down to the lobby.

I was greeted by a game winning smile. He was wearing faded Levi's that fit him very well. They were baggy in all the right places and were frayed and worn just enough to make him look comfortable. He was wearing low black boots and a black shirt that buttoned up the front with a white T-shirt underneath. The black shirt made his eyes look so deep blue that they almost reminded me of another pair of dark eyes I used to know. I swallowed hard and looked at his chiseled arms instead.

An hour later we were walking down one of the tree lined paths that cut through Central Park. Vaughn had just bought us both a pretzel from a cart. Children played on a nearby playground while their parents looked on, while others sat on benches, walked their dogs, or threw Frisbees on the grass. I had no idea that this was what others did on a Sunday afternoon. Or maybe I'd just forgotten.

It was a lovely fall day and the leaves were at the height of their change. I tried to enjoy their beauty, but whenever I saw a leaf changing color, my mind always traveled back to that Fall seven years ago, the Fall from which all my memories were blurred and painful.

"During football season, my life is pretty intense," Vaughn explained, breaking into my thoughts. "I had a football meeting this morning, and I need to be at the stadium by 3:00 this afternoon. I hope you don't mind that I didn't plan anything more eventful than walking through Central Park. I just wanted to get to know you, and this seemed like the best way."

"Football sounds a lot like a business," I remarked cynically.

He blew out a gust of air. "You're not that far from the truth."

As we continued down the path, I studied a couple sitting on a bench. They were taking in the scenery, and each other. I'd lived across the street from Central Park for two years, but I'd never taken the time to sit one of those benches. The only reason I ever came here was to run. I couldn't even remember the last time I was outside just for the sake of taking a walk or examining the leaves on a tree.

"Thank you again for agreeing to see me today," he said, popping another bite of pretzel into his mouth.

"That's the third time you've thanked me," I muttered. I walked with my hands in my pockets. No sense taking any chances.

"Well, after Friday night at the Mayor's dinner. . ." he shook his head ruefully. "I watched you walk in and you took my breath away." He glanced at me shyly and grinned. "I then watched as through the evening you decimated every male that attempted to approach you. There were seventeen in all."

"You counted them?" I asked, surprised.

He grimaced. "I think you stripped a few of them of their manhood."

I smiled.

"At any rate, it was much more intriguing watching you than that stale party. I was scared to death to approach you myself, but like I said, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life." He chuckled. "Besides, last season in the playoffs I faced the Pittsburgh Steelers' entire defensive line and lived to tell the tale; that gave me courage."

He stopped and turned to face me and I decided it would only be polite if I stopped too.

"I almost left without speaking to you," he went on, "But then I thought about how I watched you shoot down four movie stars, two record producers, a senator, a famous fashion designer, a federal court judge, four players from the Yankees, two Knicks players, and the owner of the Giants, my boss. I figured that if I went down in flames, at least I'd be in good company."

I stared at him for a moment and then started walking again. "Perhaps you misjudged my actions," I replied flatly. "I was actually doing them a favor saying no. I am no prize, and I am no fun."

He caught up to me. "You're no fun? I'm having fun."

My eyebrow rose doubtfully. "You're having fun in spite of me, not with me."

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he chewed the last bite of his pretzel. I was hoping that he had decided to agree with me, but instead, he suddenly grabbed my hand out of my pocket and started leading me onto the grass. His hand was warm. It was big and strong and I swallowed hard at the memories that crashed through my wall.

He chuckled as I planted my feet and tried to resist. "There's no reason to be afraid," he said, smiling reassuringly. "Come on. Let's go ride the merry-go-round."

I looked over his shoulder and sure enough, there was a merry-go-round on the other side of the clearing. He started gently pulling me again.

"Ride the wha. . .? No, I mean that's ridiculous. It's for little kids," I protested.

He feigned shock as he continued to pull me along. "Don't you still have any little kid in you? Isn't there a part of you that doesn't want to grow up, that you don't want to get old?"

I closed my eyes against the pain. I was going to spend eternity with a perfect boy who would never grow old.

Vaughn could sense something was different. He stopped pulling me. "Bella, are you okay?"

Simmons' annoying voice started to play in my head, "Face the facts, Bella. You're alive."

I looked up at Vaughn and raised my chin defiantly. "Yes. I'm fine." It made me angry that my voice sounded so weak and unsure. "Let's go."

We rode the merry-go round three times, and I tried very hard to find any part of me that could be revived.