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Maybe because we both knew this was our last chance.

The next two weeks would tell if we could “renovate” our relationship.

When we made it to the park, we headed straight for the swings. Tate brushed the snow off two of them, and together we swung side by side in the bitterly cold air.

Every now and then, we glanced at each other and smiled.

So much emotion simmered between us, but there were no words that could do it justice.

When we were half frozen and both shivering, Tate finally broke the silence.

“I love you, Rory.”

“I love you, Tate.”

And for now, that would have to be enough.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Tate

“I’m hearing some crazy rumors about you,” Darian said as he adjusted the new hardware on one of the upper cabinet doors while I finished setting the base cabinets Monday morning.

I liked Darian even though he was probably a good twenty years older than me. He was a straight shooter, originally from Puerto Rico, with close-cropped black hair peppered with gray, steady hands, and an eye for detail that bordered on supernatural. He was one of the few people I’d actually connected with when I moved to LA, and his craftsmanship was second to none. Even the white oak cabinets we were using to update Coco’s kitchen, which were part of his on-hand collection, were beautiful.

I gave him a wry grin. No doubt word was getting around that I’d told Quinton he could basically take a hike.

Men like Quinton didn’t take kindly to that sort of thing.

I’d probably lit a match to my career as far as working in Hollywood went.

Quinton had left several messages saying as much. I had yet to respond to him.

I was contractually obligated to finish out the season, and I would. Assuming the network didn’t shut down production, terminate me for cause, or decide I was more trouble than I was worth.

All three options were probably on the table.

My agent and PR team weren’t thrilled with me either.

And admittedly, maybe I could have gone about it differently.

But I was tired of taking cheap shots from Quinton and the powers that be at the network. Even from my dad.

And more than anything, I was tired of never being enough.

“I bet you are hearing things,” I mused.

“Well, if even half of it’s true, good for you, mano.” Darian tightened one of the cabinet pulls, then gave it a testing tug. “That Quinton is a piece of work. Someone needed to tell him off.”

Huh. It surprised me to hear him say that. No one ever bad-mouthed Quinton. Except Rory. She’d seen through his act from the get-go.

I should have listened to her.

I should have done a lot of things I didn’t do.

My only hope was that I’d get the chance to do those things now.

Especially where Rory was concerned.