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“I know,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Let’s get away from this miserable place.”

I giggle again, and he intertwines his hand with mine and pulls me down the street to his car.

There’s a lightness in my body, one that I haven’t experienced in a long time. I feel as if I’m practically floating next to him, a tepid breeze whirling around us, chaotic and in tune with the roller coaster we just experienced.

Hayden opens the passenger door for me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ears and still looking at me like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Once we’re both in his car, I look over at him and ask, “Are you okay to drive?”

“More than okay.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and removes his tie. “I only had two drinks, and that was an hour ago.” Then he frowns at me, concern suddenly written across his face. “Are you … I mean, I should’ve asked you this before I kissed you, but are you drunk?”

“I’m not,” I say, grabbing his hand. “Trust me, that fight with your father sobered me up really quickly.”

“Good. You want to get some real food?”

“What, you didn’t want to fill up on those little lobster rolls they had?” Hayden mimes a gag and I laugh. “Yes, let’s get real food,” I say, sliding out of my uncomfortable heels and fastening my seatbelt.

We drive for about ten minutes, and I don’t ask where we’re going. My mind is too focused on Hayden’s hand on my leg and the tiny circles he’s drawing on my thigh with his thumb. I watch Cottondale through the open window as we drive down Main Street, the streetlamps casting a warm glow in the dark, highlighting the colorful shops.

I love it here. I take it all in tonight, trying to look at the familiar cobble street with the same sense of fondness and excitement I felt when I first arrived here. A strange sense of nostalgia mixed with a deep feeling of belonging overcomes me.

Yes, this is where I am meant to be.

“What are you thinking about?” Hayden asks, but I don’t turn around. I’m too transfixed by everything that we pass by.

“How much I love this town,” I say softly. “Which is funny since you hate it.”

He’s silent for a moment before he matches my tone and murmurs, “I don’t hate it as much recently.” He squeezes my leg, and I don’t miss the meaning behind his statement.

Five minutes later, Hayden pulls into the drive-thru of the local burger chain, and I smile. “Real food, huh?”

“Fries and milkshakes are real food,” he says, halting the car in front of the order window. “To be honest, our options are slim this time of night.”

When a lanky teen appears at the window to take our order, Hayden throws me a quick questioning look. I just nod, and he orders for both of us.

At the next window, I offer to pay because I feel guilty that he always buys me food, but Hayden just gives me an exasperated look and says, “Robin, please don’t dig the knife in any deeper tonight.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so dramatic sometimes.”

“What can I say, I was a theater kid in high school.”

“No, you weren’t.” I gasp, my mouth falling open at his admission.

Hayden catches my shocked expression when he hands me the takeout bag and laughs. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Ugh, I got excited for a second,” I whine.

He pays and then pulls the car into the back parking lot. Once parked, we unbuckle our seatbelts and Hayden carefully lays out the food between us, using napkins as plates.

“I’m nervous that I’ll get sauce all over your seats.”

“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs, but then his gaze lands on my dress. “But let’s be careful with that.” He leans over the bench and grabs a grey T-shirt from the back. “It’s clean.”

I graciously accept it, putting it on over the dress. The shirt is soft and smells like linen and a hint of cedar. “Thank you.”

I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who cared more about my clothes staying sauce-free than his car, but I guess they do exist.

He’s looking at me with that hungry look in his eyes again, and I lean over to grab his face and kiss him gently.