Thank you for your patience, your concern, your continued interest and your continued support. I am well, though I'm not feeling a hundred percent today, but tomorrow is another day.

I know it's been a while, but I am so busy these days and although I've missed updating stories, sometimes I just can't find the time.

I had today off, so I decided to postpone some of my backed-up housework and just relax, hence the update.

SAM

I spent several days trying to find the best way to get in touch with Mercedes. Showing up at her apartment was completely out of the question and even a simple phone call seemed too intrusive.

Which leaves text messaging and good old email. Although, text messaging was far too casual. Eventually, I settled on email as the best medium and then agonized over my wording, drafting and redrafting... until I finally got fed up with myself and hit send.

The ball was in her court now. Either she would reply, or she wouldn't.

After I had sent the message, I spent fifteen excruciating minutes sitting at my computer refreshing my inbox, all to no avail. Finally, I gave up on that and then gave up on the possibility of getting any further work accomplished that afternoon.

On a whim, I changed out of my office attire and went for a run down to Battery Park and then home along the Esplanade and the Greenway.

It was one of those unseasonably warm March days, with fat white clouds scudding across the sky and it seemed that half of New York was out enjoying the sunshine.

On my run, I dodged parents with strollers, happy dogs and darting children, and knew, for the first time since Mercedes broke up with me, that everything would turn out for the best.

Even if she never replied to my email, I would have joy in my life again. But I honestly hoped she would be the one to share in that joy with me.

When I arrived at home, I forced myself not to check my computer immediately. Instead, I showered and went outside to sit on the terrace with a glass of green juice and the latest issue of The Economist...which I never had enough time to read cover-to-cover the way I would like.

I stayed out there until I got cold and then I went in and finally checked my email.

Mercedes had replied to me...

With my heart in my mouth, I clicked on the message...

It took me a few moments to process what I was seeing. It was a short email, only a few lines, but the words it contained would transform my life irrevocably...either for good or for ill.

I took a breath and read...

Dear Sam,

It's really nice to hear from you. I agree that there are some things we should probably talk about. I work in the Financial District now. Maybe we could meet somewhere for lunch? Any weekday is okay with me.

Mercedes

I pushed the computer away from me and leaned my head into my hands, completely overcome.

I hadn't let myself spend much time considering the possibility that she would refuse to see me, but the relief I felt now...like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders... told me how much I had feared that happening.

Mercedes was willing to see me. She wanted to see me.

Then a thought occurred to me... Did I truly want to see her?

My thoughts were churning as I made my dinner. I had been so caught up in Jocelyn's scheming that I didn't take the time to work through how I really felt about the whole situation.

Lunch with Mercedes wasn't a guarantee that she was interested in dating me again. And even if she was, how did I know she wouldn't leave me once more?

There had been no warning the first time. I thought everything was going swimmingly, and then she ended it...a shock to say the least. And I had little desire to put myself through that again.

Ultimately, I was facing a leap of faith. I couldn't predict the future and I certainly couldn't predict Mercedes' actions.

Renewing my relationship with her was a risk. She could leave me again as easily as she had before, and I would be left to piece myself back together.

Love was inherently risky.

There's that four-letter word... Not a subject I was willing to consider yet. So I steered my thoughts away.

I had to make a decision... either to take the chance, or to retreat now and always wonder.

It was hardly a choice.

I replied to Mercedes' email while my dinner cooled to an edible temperature. I also suggested a place...my favorite hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop for an inexpensive meal and, if necessary, a quick getaway...and a time...Friday at noon.

She wrote back later that evening to confirm.

And that was that, except, I spent the next two days kicking myself for suggesting Friday. It seemed endlessly distant, a foreign shore I was swimming towards but would never reach.

I found it impossible to focus on work and was equally restless at home in the evenings, wandering aimlessly around the apartment and cleaning things that my housekeeper kept in pristine condition.

Friday would change everything...one way or another.

On Friday morning, I sequestered myself in my office with a pot of coffee and tore through a pile of paperwork I had been avoiding.

I hated paperwork so much that my rage propelled me to clear through until lunch...occupying my attention so thoroughly, that I had no time to fret over my impending meeting with Mercedes.

When my phone beeped at a quarter to twelve, I emerged from a state of a lack of awareness with a sense of dim panic... as if I had forgotten something vital.

But I hadn't; I was going to see Mercedes and I would be on time.

I told my secretary that I would be back in an hour, then I walked the few blocks to the sandwich shop.

It was a nice day, sunny and not too cold. I tucked my hands into my pockets and felt...hopeful. Maybe it was premature and maybe Mercedes would crush all of my dreams and leave me a miserable wreck of a man, but I was all in.

All of my cards were on the table.

Mercedes was in line at the counter when I walked in, staring up at the menu board. I recognized her even from behind...her much longer sweep of hair, her navy coat, the way she cocked her hip to one side as she thought... And of course... her shapely behind.

My heart rolled over in my chest just from seeing her.

I walked up behind her and ever so gently, not wanting to startle her, placed one hand on her shoulder.

She turned and looked at me, then gave me a smile so shy and sweet that I ached to hold her against me.

"Hi, Sam," she said.

"Mercedes," I said, and then simply stood there, gazing at her, every word I wanted to say turning to dust in my mouth. I swallowed hard. "If you need help choosing a sandwich, I can give you a recommendation."

"I was thinking about the chicken salad wrap," she said, tucking her hair behind one ear, and I stared down at her, numb and joyful.

"That's a good choice."

"What are you getting?" she asked.

Such a mundane question, when my universe was in the midst of expanding from a single point of white heat.

However, I pretended to consider the menu board. But I ordered the same thing every time I came here. It was dull and predictable, maybe, but I knew what I liked.

"The pastrami."

"Yuck!" Mercedes said, wrinkling her nose adorably.

Dear God... I didn't stand a chance.

We ordered our sandwiches and took our trays to a table by a window overlooking the lunchtime foot traffic outside. I watched as Mercedes shed her coat and arranged it over the back of her chair, along with her purse and scarf.

She wore a red blouse and silver earrings that dangled towards her shoulders.

She looked beautiful.

And just like that, I didn't know where to begin.

"So..." I said.

And she smiled at me.

"This is kind of weird, isn't it? I feel like I haven't seen you in a million years, but also like I saw you just yesterday. And I have so many things I want to say, but I don't know where to start."

"I feel exactly the same way," I said, grateful that she had expressed the sentiment and spared me the task.

She unwrapped her sandwich, her hair falling over her face and concealing her eyes. She seemed...calm. And older...rather, mature. Like she had grown up somehow in the two months since I had seen her last.

"So, um. How have you been?" she asked.

She wanted to play this game, then... polite phrases that meant nothing or changed nothing. Maybe lunch had been a mistake.

"Fine," I said. "Staying busy. Business as usual. What about you? Brittany had told me that you aren't working at the club anymore."

Was that a tactical error, admitting that I had spoken to her former employer about her? Surely, she expected that I would, or at least considered it as a possibility.

"Yeah, umm...I got a new job. I'm working as a legal secretary now." She shrugged, still looking down at her tray. "And I started back at school. I'm taking a couple night-classes this semester. It's not a lot, but you know. Baby steps."

"A legal secretary," I repeated. "That's wonderful, Mercedes." I was selfishly glad that she hadn't taken another job that involved men viewing her as a sexual object, even though I had, at one point, been one of those men.

She glanced up at me, shy as a wild animal.

"I thought about...you know. What you said, about how there had to be something I wanted to do with my life, instead of just working at the club. And I decided that you were right, that I've been hiding from...from life, I guess, and so, I sent my resume around to a bunch of law offices and I got a job. Somehow."

"What type of law firm?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "Finance stuff. They do a lot of things."

There was no doubt in my mind that she knew exactly what type of practice she was working for and could've listed every major client and case. But for whatever reason, she always seemed to find it easier to play dumb.

I didn't understand the impulse and I didn't like it. I didn't want her to hide her intellect around me.

I unwrapped my sandwich and opened my bottle of iced tea.

"What sorts of cases are you working on?"

"Well," she said, and hesitated. "Right now, I'm helping with some intellectual property stuff. Just doing some simple research and filing paperwork, basically. It's not anything very complicated. And I like the lawyer I'm working for. It's a woman. She's nice to me. She told me that I did good work on the last case, so she's going to give me more responsibilities now."

I was proud of Mercedes. But still hurt and angry that she underestimates her own potential so severely.

"Of course, she's going to," I said. "Why wouldn't she?"

"I was really afraid I would screw it up," she said. "I mean, maybe I still will. But I hope I won't. I really like the job.

"You'll be running the place within a year," I said. "And you're back in school, too?"

She nodded.

"I'd like to finish my degree. It's going to take me a while, but I think it's worth it."

"That's wonderful," I said again, and sounded like such a babbling fool even to myself, that I forced myself to shut up and eat my sandwich for a little while.

We sat in silence eating our sandwiches, Mercedes staring out the window, her jaw working.

I wondered what she was thinking about. But I felt too far removed from her to ask. She was only on the other side of the table, but it might as well have been an ocean between us.

Lunch was definitely a mistake.

I was glad that she was doing well, but I didn't want to sit here and make awkward small talk with her. This wasn't what I had expected. Although, I wasn't sure what I had expected.

Closure? Some type of explanation? For her to throw herself at me, sobbing and begging me to take her back?

Whatever it was, it seemed that it wasn't going to happen.

But then she turned back to face me and set her sandwich on her tray. She had a set to her chin that I recognized...a stubborn determination that was quintessentially Mercedes.

"Sam, I want to say that I'm sorry," she said. "For how I ended things." She drew in a deep breath. "It was really...unkind of me, and cowardly, to break up with you over the phone. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."

Was that what I wanted?

Maybe...

At her words, I felt something hard and cold inside my chest begin to unravel.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

She closed her eyes...

"It was just...being home again. Seeing my mom. Seeing all my relatives. Nothing's changed there. It's all exactly the same as it was when I left. It was like going back into my past, and I started feeling like maybe I had never left. That some part of me was still there living in San Bernardino like a ghost. And I didn't know how to reconcile that part with all the rest of me. So, I guess I got scared. I didn't know what to do. I was so scared." She opened her eyes again and shrugged. "Have you ever been scared like that? Like no matter what you do, you can't change anything. You're powerless?"

I have been able to do anything I wanted my entire life. I got anything I wanted simply by being who I was. I could change everything. I had never been powerless.

Maybe I understood finally what Jocelyn meant when she said that Mercedes thought she wasn't good enough for me.

It wasn't about inadequacy; it was about the sheer, insurmountable difference in our experiences.

Insurmountable wasn't the right word... If I thought that, I wouldn't be here. I would've given up already.

With absolutely no premeditation whatsoever, I said,

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a virgin?"

Mercedes moaned and covered her face with both hands.

"Oh, God. Did Joss tell you that? I didn't think she knew."

"She deduced," I said. "I'm sorry, I didn't intend to bring that up. It's probably not something we need to talk about right now."

"No, it's okay." With her hands still hiding her face, she said, "I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed, and I thought that if I told you, you wouldn't have sex with me, and I was probably right about that. And I really wanted to have sex with you, so I didn't say anything."

"I wish you had told me," I said. "I would've been..."

"Gentle?" she asked dryly, finally dropping her hands. "Tender? I don't think so. And I didn't want you to be."

"Well. Maybe not gentle. But...slower." I shook my head. I couldn't think about making love with her. It was far too distracting, those memories of her body moving against mine. "This isn't the right venue."

She grinned at me.

"Wow! Who would've thought? Sam Evans, embarrassed to be talking about sex in public? I can't believe it."

"Umm...I wouldn't say embarrassed," I said. "More like unable to control myself in the face of temptation."

"Oh," she said, and touched her face the way she always did when she was nervous, her fingers pressed to her cheek. I wondered if she was aware that she did it. "Well. Never mind, then."

At that, I changed the subject...

"Why did you agree to have lunch with me?"

She sighed.

"Because...because Joss told me that I'm an idiot, and that I never should've broken up with you. And that if I didn't at least meet with you one time, she would smack me silly."

"So, you decided to meet me because you're afraid of Jocelyn," I said, disappointed.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "This...this is coming out all wrong. It's because I've missed you... so much... every day. And I... regretted it. Constantly. Breaking up with you, I mean. I don't know why I did it. I mean, I know why, but it was for stupid reasons, and I shouldn't have. I really, really sorry."

"Come over for dinner," I said impulsively. "Tomorrow night. Would you like that? I'll cook for you, and we can talk more."

That was all I was willing to commit to at this point... dinner, and some talking. I wasn't about to jump back in with both feet.

And so, I ignored the inner voice that told me that having Mercedes in my apartment mere steps away from the bedroom was a temptation that I wouldn't be able to resist and remained hopeful.

"Dinner sounds really great," she said. "What time?"

"7:00," I said. "Bring some dessert if you'd like any. I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay," she said, smiling at me. Then she glanced at her watch. "I need to get going. My lunch hour is almost over."

"Mine, too," I said, although of course I had no set schedule. We wrapped up our sandwiches and went out to the sidewalk.

"I'm that way," Mercedes said, pointing uptown away from my office.

And the urge to take her in my arms was almost overwhelming. So I shoved my hands into my pockets, fighting the impulse.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," I said.

"See you then," she said, and turned to walk away from me.

I watched her go, admiring the way her body moved, and thinking what an idiot I was to get involved with her again.

I would be a happy idiot, though.

I went back to my office and spent entirely too long gazing out the window, trying to decide how screwed I was.

Mercedes seemed interested, but I couldn't say how long that would last. If only dating was as straightforward as negotiating mergers.

When it came to business, I considered the available evidence, weighed my options and made a decision. And once I decided, I never looked back. There was no room for second-guessing.

But when it came to relationships, I doubted myself at every turn. I disliked the unpredictability... the margin of error. Because it was possible to do everything right and still fail to close the deal.

God. I needed a hobby. I was wasting my time.

In lieu of accomplishing anything work-related, I decided to head downstairs to the company gym. A good workout would provide me with a distraction, and maybe I would be able to focus on work for a few hours afterwards.

It was worth a shot. So I grabbed my gym bag and left my office.

My secretary, Grace, was seated at her desk outside my office door. She raised her head from the paperwork in front of her...

"Heading out early, Mr. Evans?"

"Just downstairs for a workout," I said. "I'll be back later. I don't have a meeting that I forgot about, do I?"

"Nothing of the sort," she said, shaking her head. "Enjoy your workout."

I shouldered my gym bag, preparing to head for the elevator. Then I hesitated.

"Grace... how long have you and your husband been married?"

She raised her eyebrows at me, reminding me very much of my terrifying sixth grade math teacher. I had hired her in part due to that resemblance.

"Nineteen years next month," she said. "Are you taking a poll?"

"An informal poll of one," I said. "Feel free to tell me to buzz off if you prefer not to answer. But you seem to be happily married, and I'm wondering how you knew that your husband was the right person for you."

"Well," she said. She looked up and to the left, visibly thinking. "We met at a time when I was, for various reasons, very dedicated to the idea of dating around and not getting too serious with any particular man. I had a different boyfriend for every day of the week, and it was delightful. Well, until I got the flu, and Jerry came over every day to bring me supplies and check in on me. None of the rest of them so much as called. So, I figured, any man who still wanted to see me when I was feverish and hadn't showered in three days was a man worth sticking with. And I think I was right."

"After nineteen years, I would say so," I said. "Thank you, Grace."

"I'm glad I could help," she said, still looking a bit puzzled.

I took the elevator downstairs, thinking about what my secretary had said... and about Mercedes. I was sure that she would bring me soup and orange juice if I was sick and check on me every day until I felt better.

She was endlessly affectionate and attentive...as long as we were alone. In public, she froze up. I'd seen it at the charity ball and at the museum. And I told myself that she was just shy, that she would get over it.

I wasn't sure that she would, though.

Or could.

My life was inescapably public and lived fully in the limelight. And if the only solution was to walk away from my company, to abandon everything and plunge myself into anonymous mediocrity, I wasn't sure I could do it.

I knew myself to be a citizen of the earth, and I felt an obligation to everyone I shared the planet with, from ditch-digger to emperor.

The good that I could do as the head of Evans Industries...well... It would be incredibly difficult to walk away from that.

I hope Mercedes wouldn't ask me to.

So, this is the time of year (starting in November) when work is extremely busy. Some days are long and some are really long. Sometimes I work seven days doing multiple shifts in a week and some days I only work six. It's tough being tired, because I still have to deal with my kids, housework etc., but I am very grateful for my job and my life.

Happy belated birthday to all and especially to those born on my birthday: January 31st.

I hope this update finds you all happy, healthy and well loved.

Stay safe!