“I hadn't wanted to explain the lipstick. Or the mascara. Or the skinny jeans I'd snagged from Sienna's laundrey and washed under cover of darkness and paired with a black turtleneck that a jaunt through the dryer had made, to ne honest, a size too small. But this news about the Willing Archive trumped all of that.He gave me a careful once-over. "Well."I sat down next to him, aiming for casual. I should have aimed my butt. I sat on his geometry book. "Well what?""Don't even.The day you become a good liar is the day I leave you for one of the Hannandas.""I have an appointment at the Willing Archive."I will say this for Frankie: He pays attention. "The utterly-off-limits, place-to-bury-your-face-in-Edward's-old-knickers archive?""Nice.But yes,that one.Mrs. Evers got me in.""About time someone did." He bumped a shoulder against mine. "I really do hate to burst your bubble, Fiorella, but Edward is a century past appreciating the sight of you in tight jeans. So tell me whassup."I squirmed a little."What sort of idiot do you think I am?" He sighed. "You look good, but I am concerned about the inspiration.""It's not a big deal. It's some makeup.""When I want a boy to look ta me, it's a day that ends in y. You, it's something else. It's a big deal.”

“What is it you want, Ella?""What you had," I answered softly, "with Diana. That once-in-a-lifetime connection that makes everything good.""Fine.But you do realize that in orde to be loved like that, you have to let the lucky gentleman see you.I mean truly see you, scars and all.""Yes,Edward, I am fully aware of that.""But you don't want anyone to really look at you."He had me there. "Well,no.""Good luck with that,then," he said, then yawned and cosed his eyes, telling me the conversation was over.”

“Well,that all worked out nicely," Edward said from my hand."Yup." I sat down and propped the postcard upright against my books. "Thanks.""Whatever for?""Being real,I guess. I'm pretty sure this paper about your life will get me into NYU.Which,when you think about it, is a pretty great gift from a guy I've never met who's been dead for a hundred years."Edward smiled. It was nice to see. "My pleasure,darling girl. I must say, I like this spark of confidence in you.""About time,huh?""Yes,well.Have you forgiven the Bainbridge boy?""For...?""For hiding you.""He wasn't.I was hiding me." I gave Edward a look before he could gloat. "Yeah,yeah. You've always been very wise. But this isn't really about my forgiving Alex,is it?"He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "I suppose not. So?""So.I think you were a good guy, Edward. I think you probably would have told everyone exactly how you felt about Marina of you could have.If she hadn't been married, maybe, or if you'd lived longer. I think maybe all the pictures of you did of her were your public delcaration. Whaddya think? Can I write that? Is it the truth?""Oh,Ella." His face was sad again, just the way he'd cast it in bronze. But it was kinda bittersweet now, not as heartbroken. "I would give my right arm to be able to answer that for you.You know I would.""You don't have a right arm,Mr. Willing. Left,either." I picked up the card again. "Fuhgeddaboudit," I said to it. "I got this one covered."I tucked my Ravaged Man inside Collected Works. It would be there if I wanted it.Who knows. Maybe Edward Willing will come back into fashion someday,and maybe I'll fall for him all over again.In the meantime, I had another guy to deal with.I sat down in front of my computer.It took me thirty seconds to write the e-mail to Alex. Then it took a couple of hours-some staring, some pacing,an endless rehearsal dinner at Ralph's, and a TiVo'd Christmas special produced by Simon Cowell and Nigel Lythgoe with Nonna and popcorn-for me to hit Send.”

“Would you like to dance?"I knew I had frosting on my nose.Alex leaned over and wuped it off with his thumb. "Well?"I could only nod. I had a full mouth, too. I stood up, swallowed, and accepted the napkin he was holding. "You're here.""I'm here," he agreed, like it hadn't been a ridiculous thing to say. "I am crashing your sister's wedding. Hope she won't mind.""She won't mind."He was wearing a tux. A real tux, complete with bow tie and silk lapels. I stroked one. "I'm guessing this isn't a rental."He squirmed a little. "No, it's mine. Nice dress."I looked down at the snug purple monstrosity my sister had chosen. At least it had a mandarin collar and some sleeves. "It's a cheongsam," she'd announced proudly. "It's Eggplant Ho Lee Mess" was Frankie's take. My pear-shaped cousin Vanessa got strapless. Now she looked like an eggplant."You look beautiful," Alex said, but the corner of his mouth was twitching."Well,you look like...like..." I sighed. "Okay, you look really really good." Then, again, "You're here.""I'm here.""Why?""I missed you," he said simply."It's only been four days.""A very,very long four days. But your e-mail helped." He reached for my hand. "Now,are we dancing or not?"We did, and it wasn't as complicated as I'd thought it might be. I stood on my toes, he bent down a little, and we fit together pretty well. The song ended way too soon."So," Alex said."So.""We can stay here if you want to...or if you have to. But I have another suggestion. Let's go watch the sun rise."It sounded like a good idea to me. Except... "It's ten o'clock. And it's freezing out there.""Trust me," he said."okay.”

“Oh,Ella. I wish you'd had a better time at the ball.""Fuhgeddaboudit," I muttered. Greaseball. Freddy. Freak. "It's not like she and I were ever going to be BFFs.""I wasn't just referring to Amanda."Of course he wasn't."I'll try," I moaned into the crook of my elbow. "Oh, Lord.I'll try to carry on.""That sounds rather dramatic, even for you.""It's Styx," I told him. "After your time, before mine. I don't know all the words,but those work for the moment. And for the record, I'm being ironic, not dramatic.""If you say so."I ignored him. "I have had my last flutter over Alex Bainbridge. I mean it. Frankie was right.How many signs do I need that we are never, ever going to have...anything...before I get it? Obviously, it doesn't matter that we realte to the same schizo seventies songs. Or that we can discuss antique Japanese woodblock prints. Or that when he sits next to me, he kinda takes my breath away. You would think that would count for a lot,wouldn't you?"Edward gets the concept of rhetorical questions, so I went on. "I wouldn't even want to hazard a guess about what makes Amanda's pulse go all skittery, but I would bet anything it's not Alex. And he's still with her. He doesn't belong with her, but apparently he feels he belongs to her. Explain that,please.""Oh,Ella.We men are not always the best at looking beyond the...er...""Boobs,Edward. You can say it. Amanda Alstead has boobs and blonda hair. Beyond that, I can't see a single thing that's special about her.""Because there isn't a single thing. Beyond the...er, obvious. You,on the other hand,are a creature of infinite charms. Shall I list them alphabetically or from the top down?"I scowled up at him. "Y'know, you are beginning to sound a little too much like Frankie and Sadie,my deluded Greek chorus.""yes,well,I rather thought that's what friends are for.""You're not supposed to be my friend," I muttered. "You're supposed to be my Prince Charming.""Ahem." Edward's sculpted lips compressed into a grim line. "Have you looked at me lately? I am supposed to be startling and even a bit scary.""Nope.Neither." I rested my chin on my forearm. "To me,you are perfect. You are loyal and reliable and completely lacking in surprises.""That is a good thing?""Absolutely," I said. "It's an excellent thing.I don't want any more surprises, over.""Hardly an admirable goal,that.""Maybe not," I agreed, "but pleasant. Among all the other bizarreness tonight, I found something new to be afraid of. Evil girlfriends.""Now,Ella. You can't go on being afraid forever.""Oh,yes,I can. As far as Amanda Alstead is concerned, I can."Edward tilted his head and studied me for a moment. He looked annoyed. "Why do you insist on having these conversations with me when you ignore everything I have to say?"It was a pretty good question. "Fine." I sat up straight and folded my hands in my lap. Home Truth time. "Go ahead. On this night when we celebrate the mysteries of life and death..Say something profound, something startling."There was a long silence. Then, "Boo," Edward said."Thank you,Mr. Willing.""Don't mention it, Miss Marino. I am yours to command.”

“I might have stood there for a long time, hand halfway up like a religious statue,if Frankie hadn't gently pulled it down and held on.He stood behind me, vibrating with anger. "That is not an honorable man, Fiorella."Without thinking, I lifted my free hand toward my neck.But I was wearing a turtleneck and my hair was down. There was nothing to see,and all my fingertips found was the rigid peak under my jaw. "Don't do that," Frankie hissed. "Don't you dare. It's not the scar and it's abso-freakin-lutely not you."I dropped my hand. "Yeah,right." I sagged against him a little. For being skinny as he is, Frankie's really solid. "It's never me."I felt his sigh against my shoulder blades. "We are young; heartache to heartache we stand.""Let me guess," I said. "Old Korean proverb.""As if.Pat Benatar. 'Love is a Battlefield.'"I laughed.I had a feeling I might cry, but not there and then. "Thanks.""Don't mention it." Frankie wrapped his free arm around me so my chin rested on his forearm. "Enough,right? That was enough of Alex Bainbridge-for all of us. Promise?""Yeah.Promise?”

“It's not the scar and it's abso-freakin-lutely not you."I dropped my hand. "Yeah, right." I sagged against him a little. For being as little as he is, Frankie's really solid. "It's never me."I felt his sigh against my shoulder blades.”