For a struggling artist-slash-physical therapist, the opportunity had been too good to pass up, so she had packed up and left the mild climate of Atlanta to come to the blistering cold of New York. Now she was passing the decorated Christmas windows of Barneys, Saks Fifth Avenue, and Macy's. The people moved quickly, trying to get their shopping done and get out of the cold. In New York, nothing, not even a blizzard, kept them from getting outside and getting things done. God! She had missed it, and a huge grin spread across her face. She paid the cabby and stood for a moment looking up at the stone structure while the big wet snowflakes hitting her face. She ran up to the building and burst through the glass doors. The doorman looked up from his paper with surprise, then a beaming smile passed across his face.

"Miss Rachel, how are you, ma'am? Are you home for the holidays?"

"Charlie, it's good to see you." She kissed the old man's leathery cheek. "And yes, I am home for Christmas."

"No place like it for this time of year."

"You got that right. I'll just go up; I still have my keys, Charlie, you don't have to buzz."

"But Miss..." he stammered, but got no further. Rachel was already around the corner going to the elevators.

The elevator took only a moment to get her to the seventh floor. She walked down the carpeted hallway looking at the different door ornaments that the neighbors had. On her parents' door was the wreath--a coat hanger wrapped with different kinds of tinsel, red ribbons, and pinecones decorated with glue and glitter--she had made when she was twelve.

She was twenty-nine now, and her mother still had it. It was sweet and her heart melted knowing her mom still used it, even though she had not been home for Christmas in three years. She unlocked the door expecting to find her dad watching the History channel and to smell the mouthwatering scents coming from the kitchen, the norm when her mother was in there for the holidays. Instead, she saw the Christmas tree and the apartment decorated, but the lights were not plugged in. The house was empty and quiet, no smell of ham or homemade pound cake and sweet breads coming from the oven.

"Mama? Daddy?" She called as she walked around the apartment. She went to the kitchen to check the message board for a message saying they went shopping or something and they would be back later. Their bedroom was immaculate, her mother's work, she thought, but her dad always had a shoe or a shirt thrown somewhere just to make her mother a little miffed. There was nothing as she walked back through the empty apartment to the kitchen. Rachel was beginning to worry when she heard footsteps and the front door opening. Thank God! She ran out of the kitchen ready to throw her arms around her parents in a big hug. She came to an abrupt stop as she saw who was closing the door to her parents' apartment.

"You!" She spat the word out like it was a bitter taste in her mouth. Her gaze met the gray eyes of her ex-boyfriend.

"Rachel," he said, nodding in her direction.

She caught his eyes looking her over from top to bottom, taking in her hair. He noticed that I let it grow out. It was now a little past her shoulders and the same black waves, now with copper streaks. She knew he was remembering her body as her gaze roamed. He had once told her he loved her skin, that it glowed and was the color of caramel. Her tight jeans showed off those generous curves he remembered, and she still did not dress for the weather. A small, tight T-shirt that had "bitch" written across the front was all she wore under the leather coat. Hadn't Charlie had warned him as he came in that I was here already, she wondered as the silence stretched between them.

The question was almost obvious as she asked it. "What are you doing here, Victor?"

"Good to see you, too, Rachel. How am I? Well, fine, thanks for asking."

"Spare me," she said through gritted teeth. "I asked you a question."

"Your parents invited me for the holidays and to recuperate for a few weeks."

"Recuperate from what?"

"I got hurt on the job a few weeks ago. My apartment is too small and has too many stairs. Your parents didn't want me to spend the holidays alone, and they invited me since they are closer to my doctor. It's an easier cab ride than from Brooklyn."

"Well, that's the breaks when you're a cop," Rachel said coldly.

"Damn, who made you such a coldhearted bitch?"

"You did, remember?" She took a good look at him. He was still tall and handsome.

His gray eyes had always captivated her and those lips could melt her in seconds. His shoulders had always been wide, but he was a bit thinner. Then she noticed the cane. Rachel was instantly concerned, but she firmed her shoulders and pretended not to care. She would not care for him again, not now, not ever. She hoped he hadn't seen the concern in her eyes when she found out he had been hurt, and it stung but she put it aside quickly.

"My parents invited me so you can't stay."

"My, aren't we pleasant? I thought that Atlanta would have made a southern belle out of you."

She paid no heed to his remark. "My parents aren't here. Anyway, they probably went out to shop for the holidays or something."

"Nope."

"What? What do you mean nope?"

"They left."

"Left? Left for where?"

"They called me last night and said they were going on a cruise, impromptu of course, and left a key with Charlie for me."

Rachel was livid. Trying to calm down, she inhaled, taking deep breaths and counted. "Do you mean to tell me that they left knowing I was coming and didn't tell me you would be here?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"Well, I'm here, and you can't stay. Go back to Brooklyn."

"Can't. I need to be closer to my doctor and physical therapy," he said calmly.

"Well, I'm not staying. I'm going back to Atlanta." She snatched up her handbag and her suitcase. There was no way she was going to spend a week with him, Christmas or no Christmas.

"Uh, you can't, the airports are closed because of the blizzard."

"I'll get a freaking hotel then," she retorted.

"Come on, Rae, you know that it's hard enough to get a hotel in this town on a normal day but during the holidays and a blizzard? Where are you going to go? To one of those seedy hotels where even the rats that live there aren't safe?"

Letting go of her restraint she let loose with a stream of colorful curses.

"Jesus, Rae..."

"Don't call me that. Don't you dare!" She exploded at the situation, seeing him, and having all these feeling come up after so long. She thought she was past him, but she was not. It hurt just as much as the day she left New York. "I don't want you here! I can't stay here with you."

"You have no other choice," he said softly, and she knew he was right.

He finally moved from his spot by the front door, and she could see his limp as he moved toward her. "Rachel..."

"No, don't you come near me, Victor. I may have to stay here, but God knows I don't have to be nice to you or like it."

"We can be friends, Rachel."

"Never! You didn't want to be anything. You are the one who left me, who said goodbye to me on Christmas Eve." Her voice rose with every word. "Three years ago in Rockefeller Center, did it slip your mind, Vic? Is that how you can say friends after that? I put you out of my life and intend for you to stay out, so don't talk to me, and when I leave, I will go back to pretending I never even met you!"

With that she whirled around and stormed down the hallway to the room her parents let her use and slammed the door. Rachel threw herself on the bed. Victor here for the holidays! The man she tried to get away from three years ago. Why did her parents do this to her? Her mother always believed that to cleanse the soul you had to revisit the past. Great! Now Mom was practicing her Zen mentality on her. Well, she did not have to stay. As soon as the airports opened again, she would be gone. There was no way in hell she was spending a week in this apartment with him!