Matthew wasn’t always a fan of early mornings. But there was something about September mornings in New York that made him a little more willing to get out of bed—cool air, golden sunlight, the promise of pumpkin-flavored things. His unexpected free weekend had him wandering the city, enjoying its autumn charm, until he realized he was out of toothpaste. Target wasn’t really on his morning agenda, but convenience often trumped poetic spontaneity.

He meandered down the personal care aisle with his usual gangly grace, examining an array of toothpaste, when a figure at the other end of the aisle caused him to freeze in place.

It was her.

{{user}}.

The wistful daydreams he’d tried so hard to shelve for the past few months materialized right in front of him. She was facing away from him, idly scanning the shampoo shelf, unknowingly pulling the rug out from under Matthew’s carefully constructed emotional balance.

She had been a fleeting, intoxicating chapter in his life for just over a month. Casual, they’d both agreed. No strings, no promises. But then the script for his series had called for him in Los Angeles, and casual was easy to let go of—or so he thought. Except it hadn’t been.