"Are you sure these are yours? I remember these being mine at one point."

Darien turned over his shoulder. "Yes, those are mine. They were yours, but you let me have them when you said you didn't need them anymore."

The item in question was a simple pair of cufflinks, blue in color with some slight gold around the edges. The man holding them had once claimed they were a great family heirloom to a young woman in particular, until a few simple questions and several drinks made him spill that he had gotten them at a garage sale for a whopping dollar and seventy-five cents. The woman had left, and so had the cufflinks a few hours later.

"I'm glad I don't have these anymore. They look better on you anyway."

"I'm sure the young lady wasn't impressed with them either."

"It's her own fault for being so curious. Most women would have settled for the 'family heirloom' story. Why do I always get the girl with the brain?"

Darien turned to his childhood friend. "Because you want to fool them into thinking you've got one, too?"

"I wasn't looking for an answer."

"You got one."

Andrew Shepard let his green eyes settle for a moment longer on the cufflinks before setting them in the box. "When was your job interview?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"You should wear those."

"I'm not wearing your lying cufflinks."

"They aren't lying cufflinks. They just have a bad history associated with them. When did you wear them last?"

Darien didn't hesitate. "Eight years ago."

"Yeah, don't wear them. They're out of style."

"Are you helping me, or are you going through my stuff?"

Andrew paused and looked around the room of the small apartment. The area was cluttered with boxes and furniture, not to mention papers and other things they had torn off for the last two hours searching for Darien's random possessions. What was once an area meant for trash was suddenly an intimidating area of empty boxes and heaping mounds of white paper, a complete mess in a room that was almost too small for a mess itself.

"Are you sure your stuff's still here?"

"Take those pieces of paper and put them in boxes. Let's get some space in here."

"Easier said than done."

Darien knew that was true, but he was too tired to make any kind of comment. He really should have gone through more of his stuff before moving into the city, but he knew at the time he was more concerned about getting a job than his things. It didn't help that his interview was looming around the corner, not to mention the determined friend who insisted on going through everything in every box like his life depended on it. While Andrew was helpful and consistent, he treated everything like a precious possession, making Darien wonder why he really hadn't sorted through his things before moving.

"So, when you need to take out the trash are you going to dump it out the window into the dumpster back here?"

Darien turned to see Andrew stick his head out the window. "Don't even think about it."

"I didn't say I was. I was asking if you were."

"Of course not."

"Why not? It'd be quicker than going down the stairs."

"Because I have no intention of dropping a full bag of trash out the window and watching it catch the edge of the dumpster and scatter crap all over the pavement while I turn around and hope it all 'goes away.'"

Andrew pulled his head back inside, adjusting the White Sox cap on his head. "Then close the window. No one would know."

"Except for the people looking out their windows, too."

Andrew took another look out the window. Sure enough, in the complex right next door, people quickly scattered away from the window once they were spotted. He made a face. "Now I know how a lab rat feels."

"Does that mean I'm going to have to scatter food all over the place so you'll help me?"

Andrew grabbed another box and picked at the tape. "Someone's in a bad mood. I have been helping you. You're the one who didn't label the boxes." He stuck a hand inside the box and dug through its contents. "Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

Darien stood from his area at the corner of the apartment and looked around the room. Random possessions were all over the place, trash was resting above that, and there were still several more boxes to go through. Just looking at the place was giving him a headache, an unwanted weight to his already loaded shoulders. When Andrew pulled a set of books out of the box we was kneeling in front of, Darien waved him off. "Forget it. We should take a break and get this room cleaned up. You want some water or something?"

Andrew quickly repacked the box and sat on top of it, taking off his ball cap and rubbing his face. "Got any beer?"

Darien opened the refrigerator door. Bread, milk, and lunchmeat certainly make a fridge look wider. "I got water."

"You should have beer. What kind of bachelor are you?"

Darien filled two glasses of water and handed one to Andrew. "One who worries more about making sure he has a paycheck than he does filling his cabinets with unnecessary expenses."

His answer was short and just showed hints of irritation. Andrew had known Darien long enough to know when his friend was bothered by something bigger than himself; when he wasn't overwhelmed with something going on in his life, Darien was usually so much more… relaxed. The Darien he knew would have been laughing things off and would have half of this room finished before they both knew it. The Darien before him wasn't exactly a stranger either, but his appearance was certainly more rare. No, the current Darien was the one who arrived when he had something consuming his mind so badly that he could barely think or act straight, which lead to irritability, irrationality, and, in this case, messily packed boxes with no foreseeable future.

Andrew set his now empty glass on the floor. "Spill."

Darien, running a hand through his slightly sweaty hair, stopped and checked his glass. "I didn't spill anything."

"Not that. What's your problem? You've been on edge like this since you've moved here. It's not that interview tomorrow, is it?"

Darien threw back his head and drained half the glass. "That's exactly what it is."

"What're you worried about that for? You're sharp every time you have a job interview. Not like you have a bad resume, either. If it looked any better, it'd be a blank page."

"It's not the interview itself. It's where it's located."

"You make it sound like it's in the red light district or something."

"It's Carpenter Insurance, Drew."

Andrew stared back blankly for a moment. "Are you going to a place you didn't want to work at?"

"It's owned by Allen Carpenter."

"What, is he gay? Make a pass on you already?"

"Allen married Serena."

"Serena…" Andrew whispered the name, trying to remember where he'd heard it before. Then, as quick as the haze settled, it was gone. His green eyes widened. "Serena Carray? Your Serena?"

Darien drank the remainder of his water. "Yep."

The younger man slouched against the wall, surprise clearly on his face. "Dude… no. You're going to work for the husband of your college sweetheart? You were strung on her!"

"I know."

"You wanted to friggin' marry her!"

"I know."

"Darien, maybe you should stop and think about this for a minute. Working for your former girlfriend's husband is, like, rule number one in the Don't Mess Around With the Former Fling Who's A Newlywed manual!"

Agitated, Darien slammed his glass on the bare floor of his living room. "First of all, I said nothing about messing around with a newlywed. Second of all, she's not a newlywed; she's been married for eight years. Third of all, chances are really, really good that she doesn't even work there."

"So you're going to work there in order to completely wreck your mind? I didn't realize you were a masochist."

"I'm working there because of all of the places I applied for with my degree, Carpenter Insurance had the best to offer. I didn't have much of a choice anyway."

Andrew remained against the wall while Darien stood and took his glass back into the kitchen. He couldn't believe it. Darien was going to work for the one man he probably never wanted to see again? Suddenly, his attitude and demeanor made complete sense. He was probably going to haunt himself with images of things he could have had, brood with the fantasy that was no longer a possibility, and turn into a modern-day version of Scrooge every time someone came near him who remotely radiated happiness like Serena was so famous for. He'd probably be lucky if he ever got another date again. Nothing lasted longer than a few weeks after Serena, anyway…

"Oh my God…" Suddenly, the pieces clicked together in Andrew's mind. "You're still in love with her."

Darien's lack of a response said everything.

"God, I'm glad we finally got that out in the open!" He threw his arms up in the air and slapped them on his thighs. Standing, he made his way through the fields of trash and rested his arms on the bar. "Can I ask you a favor? Could you please get over her soon so that you can stop being as much of an ass as you have the last couple of years?"

"You'd be worse if you lost Rita."

Andrew momentarily grinned at the thought of his fiancée. "You're right, I would be worse. But I'd try to move on with my life and not be stuck in something that happened almost a decade ago. This, right here? This situation is why there are so many elderly American women who own thirty cats."

"Thank you, Oprah." Darien filled his glass and went to the fridge, popping several ice cubs into his water. "Are you going to recommend me a book, too?"

"See? This what I'm talking about; you can't have a conversation like this without getting completely irritable. Just think about what you're doing."

"I have thought about it! You think I wasn't thinking about how stupid I am when I was filling out the application? Or when I agreed to meet for the interview? Maybe…" Darien trailed off. Setting his glass down on the counter, he opened his mouth. It took him several seconds to voice his thoughts. "Maybe I'm doing this for closure. Maybe… I want to get this job so I can make sure that he's good enough for her."

"Or that they're still married."

"Never crossed my mind. But I'll kill him if I find out he broke her heart."

"And if they're still in wedded bliss?"

Darien sighed again, closing his eyes. "Then I'll work in the company and move on with my life."

Silence hung in the room for several moments. Lifting his eyes, Darien made a face at Andrew's smirk. "What?"

"She's got you whipped, man."

Darien rolled his eyes and exited the kitchen. "For the love of…" he muttered.

"She does! You haven't seen her for eight years and she still gets to you! You are completely drowning in The One That Got Away Syndrome."

"Will you shut the therapist crap and get over here? I've got more boxes to unload!"

Creaking floors, scribbling pens, hushed voices, scratching hair, typing keys, phones ringing, people laughing, copier breaking, muted swearing, squeaking chairs, doors shutting, items dropping, leg twitching, fingers drumming, eyes glazing, fidgeting…

Nope. Darien Shields wasn't nervous at all.

Adjusting his suit jacket one more time, Darien took another look at the small office space and wondered how many cubicles were in the room. It seemed the only few that were open were the two that were sitting in front of the main offices, both occupied by young women who were making phone calls and scribbling agendas for the day.

Secretaries, he figured. He took another look at the one who told him to wait, wondered if the aqua shine in her hair wasn't a result of the lighting, and glanced back down at the floor. Her voice was smooth and comforting when she had spoken to him, a slender hand gesturing to the row of chairs sitting in front of the office with the drawn curtains, a gentle look in her eyes when she smiled at him. Immediately she reached for the ringing phone, silently dismissing him, and had been in conversation with the one on the other line since. He thought he had caught the name Michelle at some point, but that was hard to remember seeing how the person in the space next to her was nowhere near as… well, professional. Where Michelle's desk was almost flawless and had little trinkets, the other woman's had papers and pens scattered everywhere, every necessity lost in a sea of phone numbers and post-it notes. The woman seemed to know her way around her own mess, though, and Darien had to hide his surprise when she opened a filing cabinet that, in comparison to the space around her, was perfect. She was constantly adjusting her short dirty-blonde hair with every frantic move she made, yet something about the chaos surrounding her made sense. He was sure that he'd figure it out if he got the job.

Suddenly, a cell phone rang. Half way jumping before realizing it wasn't his, Darien watched the blonde put her caller on hold, and then reach for the cell phone sitting on her desk. She didn't look at the caller ID, but the ring tone was random enough that he could immediately assume that she knew who the caller was. He ran his fingers through the short facial hair at his chin and lip to hide the disapproving expression on his face.

"Hello?" the blonde whispered. Then, "Where are you? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

Sticking up for someone who was late? What did he get himself into?

"Yeah, he's been here since eight. He had a meeting… no, he hasn't asked yet… I told you to get up early today, didn't I?" She paused. "No, I don't want to hear about it! You're the second-in-command. Do you know how bad that looks for your reputation if you're late all the time?" Another pause. "One day last week doesn't make up for anything. Just get over here soon as you can… No, I'm not going to make an excuse for you… Even if you buy me dinner… Even if you buy me dinner and a movie… Just get over here!" The conversation ended with a sharp snap of the cell phone.

"Caught in traffic again, I assume?" The comment filled with warm humor was from Michelle – or whom he could assume was Michelle – as she hung up her phone and started tying away on her laptop.

"When isn't she caught in traffic? Whoever gave her a driver's license obviously had no idea what they were doing."

"I thought people said that about you."

The blonde swiveled her chair back to the filing cabinet, grabbed a file, and swiveled back to her own laptop. "They only say that 'cause they're jealous."

"Of course. Everyone is jealous of someone who's broken practically every violation there's a law for."

"Everyone wants to live dangerously. I'm just the one who does it."

The conversation ended there. Both women were once again typing away, and Darien was left alone with his nerves and thundering thoughts. Suddenly, the room felt like it was going to swallow him whole. Inwardly, he begged whoever was listening to not let him be the only responsible person in the office. It would be like school all over again. That wasn't a pleasant thought.

The door beside his chair opened. A slightly messy head of brown hair poked out from the space before the person emerged fully from the office. Immediately, he turned and looked at Darien. "Darien Shields?"

"Yes, sir." Darien and Michelle said at the same time, but he thought he'd heard her say "Allen." Were employees on a first-name basis with the boss? Did he allow that?

Allen Carpenter grinned warmly at him, opening the door wider and turning to Michelle. "I'll be busy with this interview for a little bit, Michelle. Hold the peace around here, will you?"

"What's wrong with me?" the blonde interjected, opening her palms and giving Allen a sly grin.

He didn't miss a beat. "Your desk. It tells me all I need to know."

"I cleaned up the filing cabinet, though!"

"The filing cabinet doesn't count. Michelle, you know what to do."

Darien saw the court nod and the amused grin she gave him before the door closed completely. The office was surprisingly smaller than he thought it would be, but the natural sunlight that poured in made it seem like it was one of the more pleasant. Allen double-checked the blinds on the windows. " We have several employees that like to snoop around here. Thank God I put Amara and Michelle in front of the main offices. It's been so much quieter around here with them. Please, have a seat."

A small side of Darien felt like it seethed with rage and regret at the same time. Allen was both the person he hoped he would be, but also the one he didn't want to see. Perhaps there was some unconscious fantasy he had where Allen would be a massive jerk and he could try to save Serena from her unfortunate state – he quickly checked Allen's hand as he walked to his desk, noting the wedding band on his finger – but the pit in his stomach only felt deeper when he saw the collection of framed pictures of Serena on Allen's desk.

Oh, God, she was still beautiful. Eight years had done nothing to change her youthful exuberance, the light in her eyes as prominent as ever, smiling that bright smile at the camera while wearing… her… wedding dress.

If Darien could have gotten away with growling at himself without it appearing strange, he would have. Of course the first picture he would notice would be her wedding day. On a bookshelf not far from Allen's desk, another framed picture looked more recent. She and Allen were standing at Navy Pier, the evening sky a beautiful background as he smiled at the camera while she kissed him on the cheek. She looked exactly the same. She looked happy.

Using the window as a getaway was suddenly very appealing (even if it would result in injury, but he could deal with that later.) Why was he doing this to himself?

"Well, Mr. Shields, I've spent part of the morning reading through your resume and I have to say that I'm extremely impressed." Allen began, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands on his desk. "Your record appears to be absolutely spotless. Dependable, committed, hard-working, willing to work weekends, holidays, and overtime… who was the fool who let you go?"

Darien straightened himself in the chair, doing his best to ignore the smiling woman in the photographs before him. He did have a job to win, after all… "My previous employer was more of a launching pad. It didn't really cater to the strengths of my degree, so I stayed there for as long as I could before coming to Chicago."

"Didn't cater to your strengths, huh?" Allen grinned as he flipped through a few papers in a manila folder. "If you look like this on that kind of a company, I'd be thrilled to see what you can do for us." He closed the folder. "Let me start off with the basics. The number one thing people need to know about Carpenter Insurance is that we are completely committed to giving our customers as much satisfaction as possible. If we don't get a deal through to a customer, but we've reached them in a way that they won't hesitate to recommend us to other people, that means about as much to me as their business. You don't spend your working career trying to build a good reputation only to throw it out the window when you have what you've been trying to achieve, right?"

Darien nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand."

Allen grinned. "Another point I want to make. It's not just my customers I care about; I want my employees to enjoy working here as well. The more you enjoy working at your job, the more effective you'll be with sales. Many of my employees are like family to me, Darien. Amara and Michelle out there? I've known them for years. If you can know your boss while still respecting his position as your boss, you have no complaints from me to be casual. Most of the people in this office call me Allen anyway. I expect you to work, but I want you to be comfortable here at the same time. Does that make sense?

"Yeah, it does."

"See? It's working already." Allen tossed the manila folder on his desk as if emphasizing a decision he'd already made. "I'm ready to hire you on the spot, Darien. According to your former boss, you're personable, friendly, and the real deal. It's exactly what I'm looking for. The only problem, however, is because we've got such small space, your desk won't be ready until tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Darien's eyes brightened despite the small knot in his stomach. "That's great. Thank you very much."

Allen looked slightly embarrassed. "It's no problem. I wish I could have had your space all set up and ready, but we don't own this entire floor. We might be moderately successful, but we're still growing. It's the main reason for the cubicles and small offices. I wish I could see more of what was going on, but hopefully people are doing their jobs so that we can get better space someday." Allen readjusted himself, leaning forward on his desk and folding his hands together. "Before I show you around and introduce you to a few people, do you have any questions?"

He knew he was stupidly noble the moment he thought it. Surely any normal man wouldn't think about telling his new boss that he used to be his wife's boyfriend. Didn't this happen in soaps? Since Serena probably still hated his guts though…

"There… might be a little bit of a concern." God, if his voice sounded meeker he could be mistaken for a little boy.

Allen nodded his head patiently. Darien was briefly reminded of a moment in the principal's office in middle school. "Well, I can't blame you if you don't recognize me."

Allen frowned. "Recognize you?"

That's what I get for thinking out loud. "Well, to be blunt, sir… I used to be your wife's boyfriend. In college."

Allen blinked for a moment. "Oh really?"

The tone of his voice heavily implied that he had no idea why this was a problem. Darien tried to straighten in his seat without looking challenging. "Well, we used to be close."

Something seemed to click with Allen. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his hands over his desk. "Do you believe this will affect your work performance?"

"I don't plan on letting it, sir. I just figured… you should know."

"Okay," Allen replied thoughtfully. "Okay." He continued to stare blankly at Darien. Finally he pursed his lips and shrugged. "Not a big deal to me if it's not to you."

What the… "You're sure?"

"Of course not. Serena will get over it. Besides, she's married now. No offense, of course, but I trust her."

Would you like some pliers to help yank out my heart? "Well, I have no intention of doing anything…"

"Of course not. I supply your paycheck now."

That ease was so disarming, but maybe that was the depth of his trust in Serena's faithfulness. It was so… unexpected. He couldn't help but grin at his new boss. He extended his hand. "Well, I certainly hope I can be all you need me to be, sir."

Allen shook his hand. "Please, call me Allen. And I know you will be. Let me take you around the office and give you some names to these faces."

Amara and Michelle immediately stood and offered their hands when the two men emerged from the room grinning. Amara seemed slightly nervous, but that had to have been because she was hiding the whereabouts of one employee. Allen seemed to know what was going on; he turned to the adjacent office and frowned at the drawn blinds. "Amara, are you trying to hide something from me again?"

The blonde smiled sheepishly. "She should be here any minute."

"Did she sleep in again?"

"She told me to tell you she got stuck in traffic."

"You do realize that's not going to work anymore? Once I figure out your code, you guys are pretty much sunk."

Michelle hid a smile behind her hand. "I told you that thing needed to be changed."

"It was her idea, anyway. She insisted it didn't need to be changed because she would get better at being here on time."

"Which you were somewhat foolish to believe."

"You won't hear me deny that."

"Ladies," Allen interrupted, grinning fondly at the two of them. "It's fine. Just do what you usually do when she gets here."

Darien felt that same weird knot develop in his stomach. Allen knew about a tardy employee and was okay with it? It looked like there was a standard that needed to be changed around here. Maybe this was a perfect chance to show how serious he was about this job. He couldn't help but grin politely at the two women. The tardy employee reminded him so much of—

Amara's phone beeped. A quick glance, and the blonde grinned. "She's in the elevator and should be in anytime."

"Of course. She would know how to make an entrance." Allen strode away from the two and brought him over to the elevators. "This particular employee… well, she has a heart of gold, but she's never been able to break her habit of sleeping in early. The work she does here, though, is tremendous. Several of the sales we have here wouldn't be possible without her. She's my second-in-command."

Darien couldn't help himself. "Your second-in-command is frequently late?"

"With all the overtime she puts in, it almost doesn't matter. I'm sure if I weren't here she'd be doing better but… I can't help it. I'm very fond of her, so I tend to be a little biased."

Darien felt a small surge of pride swell in him. Have I found a weakness already? I should have known this jerk wasn't perfect for her. "Well, you keep giving me subtle teasers instead of giving me her name. Is she going to be a supervisor?"

"Actually, depending on your work, you might be doing sales work together. What I'm hoping is that the two of you will compliment each other well. Time will tell, of course." Allen glanced at the light when the bell dinged. "You're right, though. I should stop teasing you with her work ethic and let you meet her."

"I look forward to it."

He might not have known the man for long, but he knew he didn't like that grin Allen gave him. "You say that now. Just wait until those doors open."

Yup. He knew he didn't like that smile. "Why do you say that?"

Allen didn't even try to answer. He turned to the doors and waited for them to open. He didn't have to wait long.

Oh. My. God. I should have known. Oh, God, I should have known! He unconsciously stood closer to the wall besides the doors.

"Oh, uh… hi, sweetheart. Do you know how bad traffic is this time of morning?"

Allen grinned at Serena. "Sawing logs doesn't count as traffic. I'd love for you to meet our new employee, though."

Serena's million-dollar smile was still the same as he remembered. "You had a new employee come in and you didn't tell me?"

"I recall Amara telling you to set your alarm early for today. Be careful how loudly you speak, though. He's standing right beside you."

Darien was pretty sure she muttered, "Of course he is." Allen could only be grinning at the glare she was giving him – surely the same one she had given him a million times before. He had a split second to collect himself before she turned to him with a smile.

Of course, the moment she saw him, the smile fell.

"Serena, I'd like you to meet Darien Shields. I'm told you two have some history."

The light in her eyes completely dissolved. Her face was stony, indifferent, with just a hint of irritancy and anger. It was the same face that had haunted him since he walked out of that building eight years ago. That knot in his stomach got a little tighter.

She hadn't changed one bit. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.