And that’s war.
Twenty minutes later, Wilder frowns and asks, “Why are we at the hardware store?”
“Because,” I say, turning off my car engine. “I have to keep Isla and her grabby fingers out of my room.”
Wilder yawns. “And how are we going to do that?”
“With a door lock,” I proclaim with a grin.
“Lock?” Wilder perks up. “As in, we don't have to worry that someone might walk in on us?”
“Yep.”
He hops out of my car without missing a beat. “Hurry up, Blondie!”
I laugh as I grab my purse and slip my fingers into Wilder's waiting hand.
“You look good first thing in the morning,” Wilder says against my hair, his hand gently squeezing mine.
I take in his sleepy hazel eyes, the messy strands of hair that frame his forehead, and the mole beneath his left eye. “You look good, too.”
“I was thinking about living together,” Wilder murmurs so prying ears can’t overhear. “I could take out a student loan to cover—”
“No,” I interrupt him. “You worked really,reallyhard to save up all that money so you wouldn't have to take out a loan. I won't let you give up—”
“Ingrid,” Wilder interrupts, smiling down at me. “Plans change. We adapt. Nothing is set in stone.”
Hope fills my chest as he bites down on his lower lip.
He's right. He was never part of my plan. He wasn't part of the equation. Now, he's the first person I think about when I wake up in the morning. The last person I think about before I drift off to sleep. The only person I picture in my future.
“Okay,” I decide, licking my lips.
“Welcome to—” the door greeter begins but immediately stops.
“Cash?” Iwhip my head back, my eyes landing on the white Vance's Handyman Shop tee he's sporting. “You work here?”
He runs a hand through his short blond hair. “Yeah.”
“Since when?” Wilder frowns.
“For a while,” Cash says with a shrug.
“Why didn't you tell me?” Wilder asks, looking hurt.
“Just because we room together doesn't mean I owe you updates on my life,” Cash says as he rolls his blue eyes.
Seems like I'm interrupting a lover's spat. Best friend's spat?
“No,” Wilder agrees. “But you could at least tell your best friend that you have a job.”
“Well, you didn't tell your best friend when you started sleeping with his girlfriend,” Cash quips. “So, I guess we both keep things from each other.”
Wilder takes a wounded step back as I hold on tight to his hand.
Once again, it’s all about Cash. Some things never change.
“That was a low blow,” I grind out, shaking my head at Cash. “We were broken up and you left for Europe. You didn't even talk to Wilder while you were there.”
