“What are you doing here, Nick?”

“I’ve been in D.C. since Friday for a conference. I just wanted to see you before I left for Boston.”

When she didn’t respond he continued, “I left messages.” There was that smile. “And flowers.”

“I’ve been gone,” she said without offering any more of an explanation. He couldn’t just show up in her neighborhood, trolling the streets, even if he did look good in a navy suit that brought out the blue in his eyes.

“I’m working a case. And I have somewhere I need to be,” she said.

She started walking again, ignoring the slamming car door. He trotted up beside her.

“Are we ever just going to sit down and talk?”

“What do you think we need to talk about, Nick?”

“Well, I’ve been trying for months to talk to you about what I’m feeling.”

“What you’re feeling? Not necessarily what I’m feeling.”

“No, of course not. I mean, of course I want to know what you’re feeling. Can we just go have lunch and talk about it?”

Any other time his persistence may have seemed sweet, endearing. But taking into account everything she had just gone through in the past several days, this…this naive courtship seemed frivolous, hollow, maybe even disingenuous. Though it wasn’t his fault. Nick Morrelli didn’t know any different.

She stopped in front of her house at the edge of her yard. Platt’s Land Rover was still in her circle drive.

“You say you have feelings for me, Nick, but you don’t even know me.”

“Sure I do. I know you like Italian sausage on your pizza. You graduated from the University of Virginia. You’re tough and beautiful and smart. What I don’t know I want to know. That should count for something.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated and not sure why. If this didn’t matter, if he didn’t matter, then why was she frustrated that he didn’t understand?

“Have you ever been alone, Nick?”

“Sure. I’m alone now. I’ve been alone since Jill and I split.”

“No, I mean…” She wasn’t sure she could explain what she had felt in the Slammer. “I mean really alone. You have your family, your mom, your sister, Christine, your nephew, Timmy. And you’ve never been without someone for long. What was your longest stretch between girlfriends?”

“Why would that matter? Very few of them did matter. Yeah, I’ve had a lot of girlfriends. Is that what bothers you? That I’ve had a lot of girlfriends?”

“No, of course not.” She shifted from one foot to the other. She didn’t want to have this conversation and she certainly didn’t want to have it in her front yard. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me.”

He started to say something and she stopped him, putting up her hands in surrender.

“I’m not ready to be with anyone, Nick. Not right now.”

“Is everything okay?” Platt asked.

She turned to find Benjamin Platt in her doorway, his eyes on Nick, his stance ready to move into action if he needed to.

“Everything’s fine,” she told him.

When she looked back at Nick he was staring at Platt, taking in the Land Rover for the first time. Maggie watched the charm and confidence slide off his face. Confusion gave way to hurt.

“I understand,” he said, his eyes avoiding hers.

He was wounded, embarrassed.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she told him though once again she reminded herself that she didn’t owe him any explanation.

“I’ll leave you alone. That’s what you meant, right? About being alone? You just want me to leave you alone.”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

But he was already walking away from her, headed back to his car, so easily convinced he was right. He hadn’t listened to a word she had said.

She told herself that if it mattered, if he mattered, she’d go after him. It should come natural, be instinctive. She was used to following her gut instinct. It had never steered her wrong yet. She followed it now as she turned around and went back into her house.