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Marcus turned them around and they started walking back down the beach.

“I dated a lot of guys in high school,” Annie began. “Football players. Soccer stars. Handsome. Popular. Nominally Christian. But they didn’t take their faith seriously. Then again, neither did I. And I got burned. Over and over again. And it didn’t get better in college—not my freshman year, anyway. But it was at AU that I finally started really growing in my faith, and as I did, I made a decision that I needed to stop dating for a while until I was ready for a serious relationship. By graduate school, I just had no interest in dating.”

She paused for a bit, though they kept walking. Marcus sensed she was trying to decide what to tell him and what to leave out.

“After Senator Dayton hired me, I immersed myself in my job. There was so much to learn, and I finally started to come out of the darkness and feel like myself again. But that crash and all that happened in Afghanistan, that really threw me.”

“How could it not?”

“I went into an emotional tailspin,” Annie confessed. “I’m not ready to tell you all of it, not yet, but it was . . . dark. The senator kept me on the payroll, thank goodness, and that’s when Esther and I really bonded. But I was a mess. Emotionally. Physically. Let’s just leave it at that for now. And to be honest, between that and my parents’ plane crash . . . it ate up a lot of years. So yeah, there were guys in my life—colleagues, friends—but nothing serious. For a long time, I didn’t date at all. I was too busy and too much in pain.”

“But then . . . ?”

“But eventually there was this guy. And he was sweet, you know? Kind. Funny. Smart. Really smart. Yale grad. Harvard law. Deputy director of the Senate Intel Committee. A few years older than me. Not pushy. Not showy. Just nice. And . . .”

“And you began hanging out.”

“For a while, yeah, and then he asked me out. And so we started dating. And dating. And dating. And well, five years went by and we were still together.”

“He never proposed?”

“That’s what my friends kept saying. That’s what Esther Dayton kept saying.”

“But he never did?”

“No, no, he eventually, finally, inevitably, I guess, popped the question.”

“And you said no?”

“Au contraire,” she said wistfully.

“You said yes?” he asked, surprised.

“I did,” Annie confirmed. “And we were engaged for a year, and then . . .”

“What?”

“He broke it off.”

“Just like that?”

“Oh yeah, and quit his job and moved away—Seattle, I think, or Portland. I don’t know. I never heard from him again. I was devastated. I thought things were finally coming together. I was actually starting to enjoy life again and trust people and laugh. And then, boom, it was all over. He cost me a lot of wasted years.”

“I’m so sorry, Annie.”

“Yeah, well, what are you going to do, right?”

Both were silent for a time, lost in their own thoughts, their own memories.

“So,” Marcus said finally.

“So,” Annie responded.

“You don’t have this guy’s current mailing address?”

“No.”

“Email?”

“No.”

“Phone number?”

“Marcus, seriously, I haven’t seen or heard from him in years, and I don’t want to ever be in touch with him again. Why do you think I’m not on Facebook or Instagram or any social media?”

“But I need to track him down.”

“What? Why? No, that’s crazy. Why would you want to track him down?”

“To thank him, obviously.”

“For what? The guy’s a grade A jerk.”

“Maybe so, but he’s the reason you’re single and on this beach with me right now.”