I pushed the door to the shop open to the sound of the little bell, and Wendy exited the building.
Thank fucking God.
She smiled up at me. “Where do you want to go?”
I didn’t answer, just started walking in the direction of the park. “What do you need, Wendy?” It wasn’t cold, nor was it rude. But there was no invitation in the words.
“I … I just … when we last spoke, it was … tense.”
“How is your boyfriend, by the way?”
“We broke up.” She stopped, snagging my elbow. “I’m sorry to just stop by. I just really needed to see you.”
I sighed, running a hand over my face. “It’s not good for me to see you, and there’s nothing left to say.”
“LA’s not the same without you, Luke. We … we moved there together, were married there together.”
“Got divorced there.”
A frown, slight though it was. “I didn’t want to be there without you, so I came home. I missed you.”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”
She huffed. “Nothing, okay? Everything … everything feels fucked up. And when things feel fucked up, it’s always your face I want to see.”
Another sigh, this one controlled, my jaw tight, the muscle bouncing. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
She shook her head, looking down. “No. It’s not like that. I just needed a familiar face.”
“You can’t just show up like this. Not after everything.”
She was still looking at her feet. “I’m sorry. It’s just that … I feel like I’ve lost everything.” The words broke with a sob as her hand moved to her face.
And with a third sigh, this one resigned, the doubt I’d had about her sincerity was gone. I stepped into her, pulled her in for a hug, let her cry for a minute.
Because I understood. She didn’t have anyone—she’d selectively pushed and pulled everyone in her life toward and away like a never-ending yoyo. Her father was largely absent, and her mother existed between cycles of benders and hangovers. Not everyone could handle Wendy, certainly not her parents, and everyone else had left, unwilling to love her enough to shoulder the burden of times like these.
I was Wendy’s constant. And whatever had happened triggered her, which meant she was either teetering on the edge of a downswing or about to manipulate me.
I’d keep my eyes open for the latter because I couldn’t ignore the former.
She backed away, swiping at her face. “God, I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
Wendy laughed through a sob. “I should have quit dating Hollywood executives. Among other things I should have quit doing.” She took a breath and straightened up, smiling a little brighter. “You know, you’ve always been able to make me feel better.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
She smiled, a small, sad expression. And with her hand on my arm, she stretched to kiss me on the cheek. “You were here,” she said quietly, backing away. “Can I text you?”
My lips flattened. “If you need to.”
She nodded. “Thank you,” she said and turned to walk away.
I stood on the sidewalk and watched her go, wondering why the hell she couldn’t have stayed on the other side of the country where she belonged. The sight of her was a shock I hadn’t expected.
One I hadn’t prepared Tess for.
Tess.
I picked up my feet, hurrying for the shop with my mind on her. By the time I reached the door, I was buzzing, humming with anticipation, an apology rolling through my head on a loop.
I didn’t even know what I needed to apologize for. I couldn’t control Wendy any better than I could control the weather. But my guilt ran deep—for her presence, for whatever she’d said to Tess. For marrying her. For not walking away. For my sense of duty.
More than anyone, I wished to be able to turn my back on that.
I wound through the store, hurrying into the back, but she was gone. Ivy’s eyes were sad, her face drawn.
My heart hit my shoes.
“She’s in storage,” was all she said.
And I took off before she was even finished speaking. I didn’t register my dad and brother, though their disappointment weighed heavy on me as I passed. Not in me. For me.
For Tess.
And that was all that mattered—Tess.
I found her down in storage, in our corner. She faced the wall, her hand over her mouth and shoulders small.
“Tess.” I begged the word, and she turned, startled.
Her face shone with tears that she wiped away, straightening her spine, meeting my eyes.
I stepped into her, wanting nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But I didn’t for fear she’d push me away.
She swallowed hard, her brows knit together. “What does she want?”
“I don’t know for sure. She … she’s a little lost, I think, and I’m always the one she comes to when she’s trying to find her way.” I took another step. “Please, don’t cry, Tess.”
Her face bent, casting her gaze to her shoes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
That was all the permission I needed. I scooped her into my chest, cupped the back of her head to hold her close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her hair.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” She sniffled and said against my chest, “God, I’m so ridiculous. You haven’t even been my boyfriend for a day, and here I am, blubbering.”
“Well, Wendy always did have a knack for making people cry,” I teased and was met with a wan laugh. “And I think I’ve been your boyfriend for a couple weeks now even if you didn’t.”
She chanced a look up at me. “It was easy to forget about her, thinking she was so far away. She was just a story in your past, not a person in your present. But you were married. Married. And she’s so pretty and charming and just like you.”
I sobered, my voice low. “I’m nothing like her. Tess, you’ve got to understand that she and I are complicated at best. But I don’t want her. I want you. And part of the reason I want you is because you’re nothing like her. You would never cheat on me, lie to me. Use me. Those lines, once crossed, cannot be uncrossed.”
She nodded, but her eyes were still unsure.
I captured her chin in my thumb and forefinger. “You, Tess Monroe, are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. Every little freckle, every little smile. Every hair on your head and curve of your body—especially this one.” I gave her ass a squeeze with my free hand, eliciting a chuckle. “You are perfect. And I’m irresponsible and unreliable.”
“And hedonistic,” she added.
“Yes, which I recall you enjoying.” Another laugh. “I don’t want somebody like me. I want somebody like you.”
Her sigh of concession and relief was coupled with a smile. “Kiss me,” she commanded.
And so I did, well and thoroughly.
The kiss broke when the news I’d been hanging on to wouldn’t stay put anymore.
“I had a very interesting meeting today,” I said, my hands clasped in the small of her back, keeping her flush against me.