Page 65 of Go Back to December

I huff a shaky laugh. “You envy me? Why?”

“Because you can see the strengths of something instantly. Because you have this…energy you bring to everything that’s infectious. It makes a cynical asshole like me want to believe in something bigger. And even though you went through hell, you never let it dim that spark.”

The kindness of his words and the softness of his tone, and the soothing weight of his arms may destroy me.

“The most successful entrepreneurs in the world believe that failure is only final if it makes you stop,” he adds.

“That’s the problem. I have to learn when to stop.”

“Stopping isn’t a solution. I tried that after I failed my family. I ceased making them a part of my life. And it made everything worse.”

When my tears subside, I murmur, “Whatever happened in the past, I really believe your family wants to make things right. They love you, and they want you in their lives.”

“We’ve spent enough time on my shit with my family.”

He withdraws his arms and leans back for his crutches. The sudden absence of his body heat sends a chill through me.

Baz scoops up my overnight bag from the floor. “What would you like to do with the rest of the day?”

“I thought we were going to plan how to save the café, and also, possible world domination.”

“That was on the agenda, but it can wait. Especially the world domination bit. It’s so tiresome.” He looks like it would genuinely exhaust him.

I concede a smile. “I’d like to do some work for other people today.”

Our phones vibrate, and he catches my eye with such a ferocious look that I threaten I will call his mother if he doesn’t reply.

Major Tom

We’ll keep you posted once we’ve made plans.

Chapter Fifteen

When we get off the elevator, Hozier is musing about neat whiskey and black coffee from the other side of the door to Baz’s apartment.

Actual smoke blows out of his actual ears.

Grabbing the keys from me, he kicks open the door with one of his crutches and propels himself inside.

“Luiza!” he bellows so loudly, the neighbor from the far end of the hall opens his door to peer out. Still shaky from my meltdown at Manny’s, I offer the guy a delayed apology and trip inside after Baz.

“How the hell did you get a copy of my key?” Baz checks the spare room and flies down the hallway. “Where the fuck are you, you little monster!”

He rattles his bedroom door open, and teeters back.

Dooley lounges in the center of Baz’s bed. The café’s financial files are splayed in various piles around him. Pillows prop up his back and neck as he stretches his legs.

Beneath the comforter.

Baz’s mouth is white with rage, twisting over insults he can’t summon.

Dooley glances up from the file. “There’s nothing little about my monster.”

I laugh so hard, snot flies out of my already stuffy nose, and as I stumble to the bathroom, Baz spits out, “What. The. Fuck. Are you doing?”

“Going through the books,” Dooley replies in a bored tone.

“In my bed? What was wrong with the couch?”