I cannot believe that I, the goddess of love, alias Lynette Mirror, a four-hundred-year-old woman, would be hiding in a restaurant toilet to avoid a man.

Well, here I am, doing exactly that. I had not thought that, when I saw those blue eyes and perfectly coiffed platinum hair a couple of steps away from me, I would have been rendered useless and stupid, before making cheap excuses to Claris and rushing to the lavatory. Once protected by the relative privacy of the stall, I proceeded to have a small panic attack in the toilet.

I had almost choked on my drink when I saw him, surprised as I am. The first party I attend in Los York, and there he stands, as if he was waiting for me to return. Six years. It has been six years since I last saw him in person and I can still remember the smell of his skin, the feel of his smooth skin against my cheek and hear the clear timbre of his voice, especially when it turned soft during our private breakfasts.

Despite being the goddess of love, I have only loved once and never again. I never let anyone else in like I had with Shelby, and I am not sure whether I truly regret that decision. I left the city on a modelling contract because I thought he would kindle a relationship with his old school bully, and I did not want to see it happen.

Besides, we had already agreed to terminate our contract and cohabitation. Well, I agreed to it, but he had been the one to bring it up, and it had broken my heart in pieces. It read like a wholesale rejection, especially since the Prestige Parasite had his own troubles explaining his feelings. Had I agreed to call it quits on our relationship? Yes. Had I really, truly wanted to? No. I kind of preferred to be the fake wife than just the random employee, but he had been so direct and so incisive that I could not tell him no.

Soon after that, Claris and I were offered modelling contracts, and I decided to take it. So, I left the country the week after and toured Europe as a model for various brands and publications, and I never looked back. Not even once. Yet, it seems that old habits come back fast in this city.

Sighing, I realize that I had been sitting on a toilet for fifteen minutes. As the intense shame washes over me, I decide that I need to be an adult for this and be brave, so I splash my cheeks with cold water and exit the washroom.

As I open the door, a voice sounds around the corner.

"Have you missed me?"

I feel my stomach drop at his words while my chest tightens.

"Shelby." I say his name and turn in the direction of his voice.

"I have never seen you move that fast before." He commented with a chuckle.

As I knew he would, Mr. Snail looks incredible that close, as those beautiful blue eyes stare down at me. His hair looks so very soft that my fingers ache to run themselves through it. He looks a bit thinner lately, and he looks more tired than usual, but he is still unbelievably handsome. He seems to have not aged a day since I last met him.

"Well, things change." I shrug, then realise how cold I sound.

His smile falters at my words and I know I'm being snappy when he hasn't said anything to encourage this.

"Sorry. I wasn't expecting to see you. I didn't realise you were back." I try to explain and it was true.

Indeed, I had not. No-one had deemed to warn me for this, but to be fair, there was no-one to warn me, as I cannot hold against Claris to know. Shelby shrugs this time and appears in no hurry to get back to his eager date.

"I did not realise that I had to still send you my schedule. I seem to have missed yours for the last six years, though. Do you have the right email address?" He replies.

His tone matches mine. Clipped, annoyed and sarcastic.

"Don't be mean to me Shelby. I apologised for my tone. You don't need to be the same." I turn to walk away from him.

However, before I can take three steps away from the situation, I feel his slender fingers wraparound my wrist, holding me where I stand and preventing me from leaving.

"Please, don't walk away." His voice is softer now.

"Why?" I snap, annoyed that his hand is still on me holding me in place, in a situation I do not want to face. "You didn't seem to mind letting me go the last time I've been in front of you."

The remark comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. Hurt spreads across his face and his hand releases my wrist.

"I deserve that." He stated, dour.

"No, you didn't." I admit and bite the inside of my cheek, wishing that I could take it back.

Shelby sighed. "Yes, I do. I had not considered your feelings or how I would be perceived when I asked for us to break our contract. I know it was not your decision, and that you may have misunderstood what I meant. I never apologised for pushing that on you."

"You never apologised for sleeping with that old classmate of yours, either, but here we are." I allow all bitterness to drip from my voice at this.

This I fully intended to be bitter, happy that I was finally able to say what I'd always thought.

"So, you do know." The man in front of me mumbles.

He does not deny it but he does not apologise either. Bastard.

Right before we left, Claris had told me what had happened between the president and that woman I seen him talk to at their reunion. Apparently, he could not resist planting a flag on a love lost from his youth, despite her being married and having three children.

It would seem like that pretty discourse about marital fidelity, one true love and from dating to the altar was just that. Discourse.

I scoff at him. "Of course, I do."

Moron, I want to add but I hold back. I run my fingers through my hair and glance at the party. Claris is sitting there, her eyes on her mobile screen.

"Look, you've made your point to perturb me. We had our little reunion and spat bitterly." I surmised, feeling suddenly sad. "That's enough for me. Can I go now?"

"Have dinner with me." Shelby demanded suddenly.

His words shock me. The ridiculous request takes me back completely and I feel momentarily frozen, while I try to gather my thoughts.

"Dinner? Why would I want to do that?" I ask while kicking myself as I mentally picture my wardrobe and its contents.

"We have a lot to talk about. You can shout at me and I can try to get you to forgive me. I'll pay." He pauses, runs his tongue along his bottom lip. I find myself hypnotised by this action. "And if I'm being perfectly honest, even if you have just insulted me throughout this conversation, with some of it being justified, I miss you. I know that I have no right to say that to you, but I do. I miss you."

Despite all better judgement, I hear myself agreeing.

"Fine, we can go now. Just let me tell Claris I'm leaving."

He beams. "Good. I'll be waiting by the car."

Later that evening, the maître d' directs us to a free table. It was late and the service is about to end, but the president had forced them to give us an exception, just as long we place our entire order, from entrée to dessert, at once.

After the waiter leaves, Shelby sits fidgeting. His long fingers play with the stem of his red wine glass nervously while his foot taps beneath the table. He grins as I raise my gaze to meet his and I note it is a genuine smile.

"I didn't think you were going to come." He says, with just enough self-conscience to not appear so conceited.

I hold back my smile. Manufactured humility is an action he has never shown for me beforehand. He was always full of airs, serious or genuinely confused in every other interaction we had. I would be angry at him for it, but once I take a good look at his and I see the subtle way his lip dimples that I realise he is biting the inside of it just how nervous he really is. He lies because he wants to impress me, though in a roundabout way.

"You thought I'd leave you waiting?" I ask as he pours me a glass of wine.

I note the label. It is an expensive and exclusive vintage, and I should not expect anything else. He has not broken his old habits, after all.

"I remembered you liked this one." He comments and sits back.

His memory serves him very well. I always enjoyed this restaurant, more for the view of the street than the food. I used to recommend it often to my clients, back when I was a marital advisor.

"But to answer to your question, yes, I did think you would. I really didn't think you'd come." Shelby responded sincerely, this time with actual self-deprecation, another bad habit. "You look beautiful by the way. I hope you don't mind me saying."

I did not really mind it, since I put effort on my looks and I like to be praised for it, especially in those circumstances, but I had no intention of saying this to him and wanted to kick myself for allowing butterflies to begin to flutter inside my stomach at his words.

"I did consider escaping through the bathroom window, or asking Claris to run a distraction. Curiosity got the better of me, though." I add.

Shelby nods, accepting my honesty.

"You looked as though you'd seen a ghost when I walked in." He comments, as his fingers play with the wine glass stem again.

At the same time, we both lift our glasses to take a drink. I smile. He laughs. Even now, all these years later we are still in sync. I want to hate myself for relaxing in his company, but it feels too good not to. More than that, it feels right.

"In a way, I thought I had. It's been many years, Shelby. I really, really was not expecting to see you today. Or any day actually. I enjoyed my time in Europe. It gave me time to get over you. Or at least a chance to." I mutter the last part.

I take a long drink of the wine before allowing myself to think back to that time of my life. Back to the two emotions that followed my first photographic contract with a fashion magazine. I felt emptiness. Complete and utter emptiness, mixed with some relief. I was so thankful that I could leave, that I had somewhere to go that was not either Los York or Celestia, and I did not have to see him around like a lot of my old clients did when their hearts had been broken.

Especially when I had found out about him and that classmate of his.

The emptiness turned to rage before dissolving into nothing once again. The screaming black void in my heart was something I found much easier to cope with.

It all went well for a while. I had fun with my new job, and I appreciated how much effort it went into it. I also had a chance to know a world much, much larger than Los York, and I could explore the scenarios from the stories and representations of my celestial family.

I was fine. Until I saw him on TV and felt a deep ache. An ache that made me realise that I was not over him like I thought. Even now, sitting across from him all these years later, that ache builds in my stomach. I am still not over him.

He smiles softly. "I'm glad that you didn't."

His words pull me back from my thoughts. He opens his mouth to say something else, but quickly closes it as our waiter places two plates in front of us and promises to return in a few minutes for the next course.

"I wish I could…" I mumble, more to myself than to him and distract myself with picking the food with my fork.

"Sorry?" His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Could what?"

I cannot look up, though I can feel his intense stare. I swallow hard and again, reaching for my drink, hoping it will provide some Dutch courage.

"I haven't gotten over you." I finally confess. "I wish I had, but I couldn't. That's why I came, because I hope you will give me another reason for it, that you will finally push me over the edge."

My words are met with a wall of silence. I drop my gaze to my plate and find something really interesting about bright red cherry tomatoes, thankful to be away from his piercing cold eyes.

Neither of us speak for a few minutes. I am no longer hungry but I slowly eat my salad anyways, dreading the arrival of the main course, only to find Shelby looking at my wine glass deep in thought.

"You still love me." He declares.

It's not a question and I'm scared for his reaction. I simply nod.

"You still love me?" He repeats as his eyes meet mine.

"Yes." I whisper and wait for his answer.

I am not really sure what to expect. I told him that I wanted good reason to fall out of love with him, but I do not know if I am certain of that. I know that would hurt me, and I did not fancy having my heart broken once again.

Shelby, in turn, smiles widely, like I have not seen him do in a good while. I hope that he would not gloat over my pathetic self.

"Well, then I'm sorry to disappoint, but I cannot give you what you came for." He responds, still cheery.

That phrase confounded me. "Excuse me?"

"You said that you wanted a reason to fall out of love with me, but I can't give you one. I won't give you one, I refuse." He reiterated.

My eyebrow shot up. "So, you mean to say that…"

"I still love you, too, Lynette, and if you let me, I will never give you reason to doubt me ever again."

I drop my fork on my plate. I was not expecting something like that to happen tonight.