Page 109 of I Saw You First

“The first, because I was too chicken to put my name on the card. The second, because I was a total shit to you when you came back to work.”

I grin. “Well, I can’t argue there.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you can. I’ve never known anyone who can argue quite like you.” He smiles, too.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I take a deep breath and ask the harder question. “What about Hometown?”

“What about it?”

I wave my hand back and forth between us. “Your career, your goals,” I sputter. “You put your career before… before us.”

“I quit.”

“You quit?” I shriek. “When? And why didn’t I hear about it?”

“Last week.” He laughs. “And you haven’t heard about it because Dino and Dad are still figuring out damage control. Dino told everyone I’m on vacation.”

“Wil.” I breathe out his name. “That was your dream, to have your own store.”

He shakes his head. “No, not really. I figured out—probably a little too late—that the real dream has always been the nonprofit. I’m taking some time off and applying for a new position there. It’ll be a step or two backward, but eventually, it will get me where I want to be.”

I smile again, so happy for him. But then something else occurs to me. I swallow down the lump in my throat. I hate to even ask. “Did you block my applications for transfers?”

He frowns. “Sam thought you’d ask about that. And Dino said something about it the day I quit. It does sound like someone’s blocking you, and I’m going to find out who.”

“But it’s not you.” I want so much for it to be a true statement.

One corner of his mouth lifts, but that half-smile seems sad. “It’s not me. I would never stop you from going after your dreams, no matter what you might think.”

“It’s not my dream, either.” It feels right, saying that. “I’ve loved working there, and I’ve met some of the very best people, but it’s not my dream. I’ve got an interview at Sky Blue Waters next week.”

Now he smiles, broad and genuine. “That’s good.”

I take a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you. The real reason I left TC Weekly.”

His smile falters as I tell him what happened in Ryan’s office that day, about the hush money and Tamsa and the meetings with Zahid and the other women.

His jaw tics. “I’m so sorry. What a fucking dirtbag. If I ever see that guy⁠—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” I reach for his hand, and his grip tightens around mine. “I’m okay.”

“Can I—hold you?” At my nod, he pulls me in tight.

I breathe him in, his woodsy scent, his heated skin, and I’m flooded with sensation and swizzle and the memory of what it’s like to be held by him, to be loved by him, and I never want to let go.

“I love you, Wil,” I whisper, and his grip tightens.

“Do you mean it?” he murmurs. “Do you forgive me? Will you give me another chance?”

Before I can answer, he sneezes, and sneezes again. “Oh, shit.” He sneezes again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Abbey, I love you, but I’m allergic to pretty much every flower in this place.”

I step out of his embrace so I can look at his handsome face, but he grasps my hand, almost in desperation, as though he doesn’t want to break the connection between us.

“Well, that seals the deal for me,” I say. “Not only did you rent an entire nightclub, but you bought out a florist, and you’re allergic to flowers. If that’s not love, I don’t know what love is. But…”