A 70 mile an hour wind blew against Jet and Sloan as they traveled down the freeway on Nora's Harley. It was exhilarating and cooler than she expected. She was glad that Jet had persuaded her to wear a jacket. Her arms were like a vice around his waist, and she loved the fragrance of sandalwood from Jet as the wind swept across her nose. As Sloan looked about, she was amazed at all the new construction in the city and the endless miles of new freeway that looked like strands of spaghetti in a pasta bowl. Atlanta was one of the most beautiful cities in the South. Tall glass skyscrapers pierced the clouds, the magnificent gold dome from the capitol shimmered against the setting sun, and the entire skyline was coming alive with lights.

They were headed to Piedmont Park for the Atlanta Jazz Festival. It was a major event in the city, and people traveled for miles to be a part of it. When they arrived, no one had to give them directions; the smooth melodies led the way. Jet followed the sound to the nearest parking lot. It was packed out. He was glad he'd taken the motorcycle, because it could be parked practically anywhere. They dismounted and put their helmets in the side compartment, removing a blanket.

Jet took Sloan's hand, and they made their way through the masses. There were people as far as you could see, either stretched out on the grass on blankets or sitting in lawn chairs. The air was filled with the aroma of fried foods coming from vending trucks strewn along the paths. Jet stopped and bought drinks and smoked turkey legs. They found a place to spread the blanket near the side of the stage. This gave them a great view and helped them to get closer to the stage than the masses. The blare of saxophones and thumping bass had many people on their feet dancing. When they sat down, Sloan took out her cell phone and took a selfie. Jet borrowed the phone and took a better one, with him landing a kiss on her cheek. He slipped the phone back in her jacket pocket.

She tucked herself between his legs and leaned against him. He buried his face in her curly, black hair, loving the smell of wild roses. His arms slid around her waist, and he sighed, feeling so complete in her presence. It wasn't long before he was planting kisses on the side of her neck and nuzzling her shoulder. "I'm glad you're here with me," he whispered. "Do you love me, Sloan?"

She shook her head no. Though they teased each other in moments like this, his heart really did want to hear her say that she loved him. Perhaps for now he'd just have to settle for her saying it vicariously to her massive radio audience. For a moment he allowed her voice to fill him—I do love Jet. But he adored it when she turned around and slipped her lips over his. He didn't mind it at all when she gently pushed him back on the blanket and consumed him as if no one else was there.

***

Robert was so disappointed that Nora wouldn't pick up her phone and speak with him. He'd tried calling several times that week. His heart ached for her. She did manage to send him a simple text that said I'm not ready. To which he replied, Please tell me it's not over. There was such a long pause between his message and the one that she sent back that Robert felt as though his heart had been ripped out in an Aztec ritual and that his body lay bleeding to death on a cursed altar.

Only if you tell me that you found the person that I fell in love with.

"Oh, God!" He fell on his knees next to his bed, grateful for the ray of hope. I'm trying to find him, Nora, and I'm very close. I cannot possibly exist without you. He didn't expect her to say anything back, so he ended the messages by saying, I'll be home soon.

Robert cried. He sat down on the floor and cried. There were many reasons for his tears, but none more painful than thinking about living the days ahead of him without Nora. He remembered the first time they'd met. It was at a peach-picking contest at a church his family had recently started attending. The church sat in the middle of a peach orchard. The harvest was always so bountiful that they needed as many people as possible to pick the peaches. After the harvesting, the church sold them to local grocery stores in the area. The proceeds went to feed the poor. Whoever picked the most got tickets to the Six Flags over Georgia amusement park and dinner for two at a restaurant of their choice.

He smiled wearily as he remembered laying eyes on her for the first time. She was tall, had a shape like a goddess and flowing, black hair that looked like waves upon her head, but when he saw those hazel eyes, he was caught up. He didn't know her name, he'd never seen her before and he knew at that moment that he'd never see anything like her again. He was simply thunderstruck. Robert made a determination that he'd pick peaches all day and all night. He was winning that prize, and that young lady was going out with him. Six bushels of 288 peaches later he was standing next to Nora Gunnery, and they'd been together ever since. Seeing her in his mind's eye, as beautiful now as she was then, made his heart swell with joy.

She was his best friend, a woman who'd done an outstanding job raising his sons and had been faithful as a wife and a business partner. As he sat on the floor, he utterly realized that he'd given her a great life, but had lost the fire that made him pick all those peaches. On that day in the orchard he wanted her more than anything, and he didn't even know her. He worked his hands, his back and his knees raw, picking those peaches just for the chance to get to know her. Now he had the pearl in his hand and had crushed it, not with cruelty, just indifference.

There was a knock on his door. Omar stepped inside. "The family is seated for breakfast. Will you be joining us today?"

"Tell Rashid and Aya that I would love to, but I need to be alone. However, I will have the evening meal with the family."

Omar nodded and left the room. Robert got up and looked at himself in the mirror. The last few weeks were swirling past him, as he thought about how much he'd learned from this family. Then he thought about how marvelous Rashid looked at 70 years old. What the hell is my problem? He changed into some workout clothes, grabbed his sneakers, a thick towel and coverings for the desert heat. Robert hadn't been in a gym since Nora left him, now nearly ten months ago, but today he was going to connect with that side of himself. He greeted the family and then did what he used to do—went jogging—but this time in the desert.

***

"Dillon Jensen, you step aside right now and let them in," Elise said in a tone that would make an army sergeant tremble. "I'm tired of this, and you need to straighten up."

Sloan looked at her mom and shook her head, and then glared at Dillon. "Daddy, Jet is going to be coming around until I go back to Florida. Can you please give us some peace?"

Dillon gave Jet a lethal glare. "Wait until you have your own daughter, and then maybe you'll find out why I'm right about you and nobody else can see it."

Jet was angry, but he bit his lip to hold it in. He started counting to ten on the inside, trying to calm himself. How long did Dillon intend to keep stabbing him over his past? Couldn't he be grateful that at least Sloan was standing right in front of him because he'd asked her to come home? After thinking a bit more, he couldn't keep silent. "What in the hell do you want from me, Dillon?"

Sloan gasped and Elise grabbed hold of Dillon, because she knew what was coming next. The two of them had nearly torn the front part of the house apart in this very spot seven years ago. Dillon, being twice Elise's size, dragged her forward and was almost inches from Jet. Sloan stepped between them, and before she knew it she had slapped her father.

The air crackled with tension as if they were in a high-voltage plant. The sound echoed in the room.

When she realized what she'd done, she froze, eyes wide as bowls. Dillon turned red, not only from the slap but from pure humiliation. The color worked its way up from the wrinkles in his neck to the top of his cheeks and began to settle in a blazing hue. Jet pulled his hair, an explicative followed. Elise thudded against the wall, waiting for the war to begin. Sloan lifted her hand to touch her father's face. He drew back. "I'm sorry Daddy, I'm so sorry."

Dillon was so stunned, he couldn't do anything. His gray eyes became slits dancing between the two of them. His lips were in a thin line quivering. Elise rested her hands on his shoulder, hoping that her touch would at least begin to calm him.

"I love Jet, Dad. I have always loved him."

She heard Jet groan, responding to the words he so longed to hear. Sloan turned back and gazed at him, feeling passion without even a touch. His eyes held hers, flooded with love. Everything around them vanished. She placed her hand over his heart, feeling one beat turn to ten. Jet covered her hand with his. "We have a lot to work through, Dad." She then turned to Dillon. "All I ask is that you give him a chance."

The ice in Dillon's voice would have frozen the Potomac River. He pulled his shoulder away from Elise's hand and stepped around Sloan. Jet stepped back, keeping a safe distance between them. "You hurt my daughter. You left her life in shambles. She moved away from us because of you."

"Am I to pay for that for the rest of my life? I don't know why I walked away. I have hated myself every day since, but it was not because I didn't love her."

"Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" he breathed heavily.

"Maybe in your life, but not in mine. If I haven't said it enough—forgive me. I'm not perfect and nobody is. Try to remember that I once did make her very happy."

That was like a flaming dart that sank straight into Dillon's heart. Sloan had been happy with Jet. He had never mistreated her. None of this added up, but he certainly couldn't deny what Jet had said. "All right, but I'll hurt you if you ever mess with her again."

"I won't do that, Dillon."

Elise, who'd nearly been holding her breath, let out a sound of relief. Sloan took Jet by the hand and led him back to her room.

"And leave that door open." Dillon's voice trailed down the hall. Upon hearing that, Sloan slammed the door shut.

Elise stood at the kitchen door with her hands on her hips, giving the evil eye to Dillon. What she needed was to give him a good smack on the head with a rolling pin. "They're grown, you old ornery coot. Come in here and sit down. If you say one more word, you'll be sleeping somewhere else tonight."

***

The bed gave a tiny squeak when they tumbled upon it. Freedom. That's how Sloan felt under the warmth of Jet's firm body. By standing up to Dillon she was free to move forward. She wouldn't have to sneak out the window anymore. She wouldn't have to stay at Nora's all day. Jet wouldn't have to pretend to be Justin. He could come and go as he pleased, and that would give her more time to spend with Elise and Dillon. The most liberating of all was feeling free to love again, despite her fears.

Jet's eyes bored into hers. She felt his heat and her limbs turned to water. He offered no words, only a tender glance that spoke more than any utterance. His hands stroked her hair, and trailed down her face. He studied her as though she was a page of Braille, the caress of his hands turning to the next chapter in their lives. They rested upon her shoulders, firmly pressing away the stress from Dillon's charge. His touch flooded her body with sparks.

She felt the bra snap under her shirt, and her breath caught in her throat. He slid it away, discarding it to the floor, yet never lifting her shirt. He'd made a promise that he intended to keep, if it didn't kill him first. His hands moved over the swell of her breast. The surge of his touch shut down her ability to breathe; her mind lost its direction. The sparks began to ignite into tiny flames. Her eyes drifted closed. He kissed each eyelid, then across her face and finally over her mouth, taking her deeply. His tongue sent pleasure through her brain, down her spine and through her body like a hot current. He was all over her in an instant. "I needed to hear you say it," he breathed. "My heart couldn't bear for it not to be so."

"Then I'll say it again: I love you, Jet."

***

The morale at The Trent Store was cloud-high. The staff were buzzing about their half-day off and the $150 gift cards that were distributed to the people who had worked during the inventory. Even though the gift cards could have been used anywhere, many of the staff made purchases from the store. Everywhere Jet and Justin moved about, someone was thanking them. It became an unexpected boost in family pride between the brothers.

"We're going to have to incorporate more things like this," Justin said as he and Jet caught the elevator up to their office on the third floor.

"Sales are up in every department."

"I know. We already know we have a great staff, but it seems like they want to do more than expected."

"What else do you think they would want, Justin?"

"I don't know. Maybe we can put up a suggestion box."

"Dad would never go for that, so we'd better do it now and make sure things are well implemented before he gets back."

"That sounds like a good idea."

The ding of the elevator, followed by the open slide of the elevator doors, put them in a huge foyer modestly decorated in modern furnishings. There was a receptionist desk that hadn't been used since Mrs. Branson retired two years ago. Gray leather sofas sat on opposite walls, and a few short-back blue chairs were placed throughout the room. Directly in front of the elevator were four offices for the Trents enclosed in glass. From the elevator you could see all the way through the offices to the beautiful view of downtown Alpharetta and the wall of trees behind the city.

Jet held the door open for Justin as they walked into Robert's office, where they had been working. "It just hit me that Dad must have been very lonely coming to this floor. We weren't in our offices, Mom left hers and our dear Mrs. Branson has been gone at least two years."

"Hmm, you're right. Have you heard from Dad?"

"He's texted me a few times since he's been gone. He said the trip has been phenomenal, but mostly he's been jabbering about feeling sorry that he's responsible for Sloan and me not being together. I don't know what he's talking about, but I went along with it."

"He said something to me about that too, a few months ago. Well, he'll have to have his own catharsis, and we'll let that ride. Speaking of that, how are you and Sloan?"

"Happy," Jet said with a smile. The mention of her name invoked such a sweet and longing feeling in his heart. He turned to Justin. "We are taking things one day at a time, and that's all I can say. I don't want to fight with her, so we're really avoiding what happened, but both of us know it will have to be dealt with."

"Have you been to the creek?"

Jet went beet-red in a flash. Justin's eyes narrowed at his mirror-image brother, and then he grinned.

"Well, then, Jet, that goes without saying. If you've been to the creek, you two are going to be just fine."

The computer buzzed as Jet turned it on. He chose to ignore Justin and went to work, knowing full well that he and Sloan had been at the creek nearly every night since their encounter with Dillon. It was working wonders to restore their relationship.

"Still celibate?" Justin looked at the grimace on Jet's face and burst out laughing.

"I'm serious about that, and I told her too."

"Wow."

"Part of me feels like I took advantage of her before, and I'm not doing it again. There'll be enough time for us in bed, if I can persuade her to marry me."

"Never would have imagined you on this road, but I'm proud of you, Jet."

There were a ton of e-mails in Robert's account that Jet and Justin worked through. Their synergy was amazing. They fit into management functions like a plug in a socket. They didn't need to have Nora or Robert involved in one single transaction concerning The Trent Store. Though they'd been apart from it for years, they returned to operations as easily as an old man returning to ride a bike. By the end of the day everything had been handled, as it should, and a big, aluminum suggestion box had been placed in every department. Justin called a staff meeting to announce the change.

"We are very pleased with all of your work. We want each of you to know that we are available. If you need anything or want to see any changes, put it in the box."

"It can be anonymous, if you'd like," said Jet.

Justin continued, "You all know that Robert is likely to come back any time. We are going to do all that we can to make sure that the suggestion boxes remain. But you all know our father: He's not as generous as we are. So I would highly recommend that if there is anything on your mind or anything that you need, get it done now. Jet and I don't know how much longer we will be here."

One of the staff spoke up. "Do you mean anything?"

"Yes."

"Even if it means a raise?" said Maya.

"Yes, even that," said Jet.

Mr. Mc Daniels, the head of their janitorial department, got up and clapped. "Thank you."

The rest of the staff began clapping as well. They all left the meeting contented, and many of them stayed behind long enough to shake hands with Jet and Justin. When everything had settled back down, Justin sat in the office foyer recovering from the long day. Something made Justin recall a conversation he'd had with Jet earlier.

"Hey, did you ever get that contract from the company that you'd developed the game app for?"

"It never came. I finally called the company, and they told me that they were still working on the terms. Alana must have gotten her wires crossed."

"How can that be, when she said she had the contract? She was probably fishing for your location."

That caused Jet's heart to shudder. He'd been so caught up with Sloan and helping Justin with the store that he hadn't been focusing on details. Alana certainly said that she had the papers; they would be mailed overnight and were needed in three days. She wasn't beyond being underhanded. "You're right, but I can't call her."

"It just seems odd. Tell me more about this Alana."

"How much time do you have?"

"All the time that you need."

Jet began the tale of himself and Alana. Jet had been dating a string of women, and when he met Alana in the Grayson law offices he shut everything else down. He found Alana to be quite intriguing and beautiful and felt she would be a complete asset for building his company. But she was also the type of woman for whom marriage was not an issue. That worked well for Jet.

In terms of priority he knew why he was dating Alana—she was good in bed, she increased his wealth and she was available any time he needed an escort to corporate functions. He knew her priorities—he gave her status in social circles and took care of her sexually. In terms of any commonalities—they were intellectually stimulating to each other. Love wasn't necessary, they fought a lot, leading to makeup sex, and overall life was great. The two-hour conversation left Justin shaking his head as he described how they'd functioned.

"You didn't have a relationship, Jet; you had a business arrangement with benefits. Do you know anything about where she's from, her family or anything?"

"No, and she doesn't know anything about us in Georgia."

"How could you do that for three years?"

"Alana wasn't interested in that. She was and still is interested in money and made a lot of it helping me over the last three years. Their firm has tripled their monetary volume because of my gaming apps. I'm one of their largest accounts. We focused on business, we traveled the world, had an amazing party life and I never went to bed alone. She was my sedative to get over Sloan."

"But the sedative wore off."

"Yeah. Sloan is my forever love. You can never get away from someone who was meant to be."

"Whew, this is deep. Alana won't let you go because ... ?"

"I believe she's developed feelings for me, and since I haven't returned those feelings, she thinks that I used her. I wasn't using her. She was an excellent attorney, and I was an excellent developer. We made a good team and made a lot of money. She won't accept that we laid the cards on the table a long time ago about our relationship—nothing personal, no strings attached."

"You, my brother, have a mess on your hands."

"Don't remind me, Justin. I've held my ground, and I told her we are not getting back together, except for that one time I slept with her. I could beat myself, but it was a weak moment."

"You never alluded that you loved her or gave her some hope that your relationship could change in the future?"

"Never. We had a non-committed relationship, and that suited both of our priorities."

***

"What do you mean that Robert called you several times over the last three weeks and you haven't talked to him?" Sloan was stunned. The two of them sat on the cushions on Nora's floor facing each other. "Nora, you've got him on his knees. He's on the other side of the world for you. Give him a little hope. Why didn't you tell me about this anyhow?"

"I don't know, Sloan. Maybe a little of me is still angry."

"Nora, we are well past angry. We are at a point where you know you don't want to be without him. You don't want to start over, and you realize that you must express yourself. Most of all we also know that you still love him."

Nora put her face in her hands and leaned down with her elbows touching the floor. She moaned, and then moved her hands just enough so that she could see Sloan.

"Don't look at me like that, Nora. You were wrong. You need to apologize to him. What did he say?"

Nora began to grin. She leaned back on the pillows, crossed one leg over the other and began kicking the other in the air. It appeared that Nora's resistance had made Robert very vocal. He'd been texting a lot of things, sweet things—even things that caused her to tingle. "Poetry."

"What?" Nora's eyes bulged and she was surely stifling a laugh. "Robert is writing you poetry?"

"Yes, my husband is writing me poetry, and he's quite good at it. So you see, my resistance is not without its merits."

Sloan blinked, and from the look on Nora's face this must have been some kind of steamy poetry. She could just imagine something straight from the romantic poets. Sloan waved her hands about dramatically, her voice loud and strong, "Like this kind of poetry:

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes, and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eye;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

"So you know of Lord Byron. But Robert's poems are better."

Sloan perked up, facing Nora with the anticipation of a child at Christmas. Nora rolled over to her side facing Sloan. She was grinning from ear to ear.

"I want to draw your lips upon mine, and taste the sweetness of your love.

Baby, I'm lost without you.

Can't live without you.

Cried into my pillow with you on my mind.

I can't breathe when I wake up.

I can't sleep when I lay down.

Baby, when I look at you, all I want to do is feel your body next to mine.

I want to hold your heart.

I want to touch your hand.

Baby, we were meant to be.

I'm out here in the desert. You've got me on rewind.

When I return, it's going to be the best of time.

I'm burning for you, baby, like the sand of the desert.

I'm coming back for you."

"Sounds like a lovesick country song!" Sloan hollered. She was laughing so hard, she literally was rolling on the floor.

Nora had a smug look on her face. "Uh huh. I memorized that one, sugar plum."

Sloan's eyes widened, and then she fell back on the floor again laughing. When she finally gained her composure, she sighed, "I didn't know he had that in him."

"That's how he won me over, Sloan. Come with me." Sloan walked down the halls of Morocco and entered Nora's bedroom. Nora went to her closet and pulled out a large box decorated in a beautiful floral pattern. When she opened it, Sloan felt a tug in her heart that made her want to cry. There were love letters between the two of them, pictures, dried flowers that he'd given her, old perfume bottles that she'd kept and ticket stubs to events that they'd attended.

She laid them on the bed and one by one began to explain exactly who Robert was. Their lives were laid out as a beautiful tapestry. They were literally walking through time. As Sloan looked at Nora telling the story, she could see a woman craving for the love of her past. When she spoke of the man she fell in love with, she blossomed. That box of lovely sentiments did for Nora what that babbling creek did for her.