Chapter 11

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The taxi ride from Jacks to Kelley's had been torture. Trying to keep her composure and not react to the scene on the terrace had taken a huge toll on Keesha. By the time, she climbed the staircase to her tiny apartment, she knew that she wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer.

Her eyes blinded her with unshed tears, as she closed her door shut. So caught up in trying to keep the pain at bay, she forgot to lock the door behind her. Instead, she threw her purse on the sofa, kicked off her heels and headed straight for her bedroom closet.

Standing on tiptoe, she reached her hand far into the back of the shelf. Her fingers came in contact with the object she so desperately wanted and pushing it forward, the box finally came into view.

She took the box from the top shelf and went back into the living room. She sunk into the plump cushions of the sofa and pulled her feet underneath her.

She blinked back the tears as her hands caressed the box. She forced herself to look down at it. The plain, little box held so many memories for her. Memories that she thought she had buried deep inside of her. Much deeper than into the back of a closet shelf. Much deeper than that. But she was mistaken. With one touch, all those memories came flooding back and compelled her to seek out her plain, little box and the old memories she had stored there.

Keesha took a deep breath and in one swift movement, removed the lid. Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled out the memories one by one.

The ticket stub of one of their first dates. A stolen trip to New York to see Cats. A piece of his shirt that had been torn when he helped break up a fight between one of the kids at the Ward House. She placed the objects on the sofa beside her until she came to the dried roses. The roses he had given her after they made love for the very first time. She carefully cradled the dried flowers in her hand as she slowly brought to her nose to inhale the faded scent.

"Paris."

She stood at the quietly spoken words and turned to face the owner of the voice.

"I gave those to you in Paris, didn't I?" Jason asked as he came into the apartment. He locked the door behind him and moved to stand in front of Keesha.

She couldn't speak. She could only nod in reply.

"And you've kept them all this time," he said, reaching out his hand to take the flowers from her.

As Jason tenderly held the roses his hand, Keesha crossed her arms across her chest and said, "You shouldn't be here, Jason. This isn't right."

"I can't stay away anymore, sweetheart. It hurts too much," he said, caressing her with his eyes and his husky voice.

Keesha tried to fight it, but she found herself reacting to him again. She laughed derisively at herself. Robin was right. Two years. She really should have gotten over it by now.

"Why are you doing this? What are you after, Jason?" Keesha asked, masking the pain in her voice with a false sense of bravado.

"Don't do that. Don't try to pretend like you don't feel anything when we both know you do," Jason said. He took her hand and placed the dried roses inside. He continued to hold her hands in his as he moved to stand only inches from her. "You would never have kept a memento from the first time we made love if you didn't still have some kind of feeling left for me."

"How did you know that was from Paris and...that time?" Keesha asked, her voice shaky with the threat of unshed tears.

"I remember, sweetheart. Everything. I remember loving you. Looking back now, I'm amazed that I forgot," he said softly.

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