The dress was hung up on the door. Zayne was on his way to go see Tate for a suit. I couldn’t wait to see my hunky tattoo artist all dressed up.

I put a hand to the dress and bit my lip. What he did to me in that dressing room… I’d never done anything like that before. That craziness he brought out in me was…well, crazy. A different kind of crazy from what I was used to experiencing. Working at the cafe with Donna was fun. It was low-key. It was nice to meet people. It was nice to watch people. And at the end of every shift, I was able to sit and write. Hell, I was able to write whenever I wanted, actually.

Zayne supported it. He supported me. Yeah, we were in some kind of awkward stage of not knowing what we exactly were, but it was such a special thing for me to grab a notebook and start writing and have someone appreciate it. He’d walk to the table and kiss the top of my head and tell me I was doing great. Tell me that he hadn’t read a book since tenth grade in high school, but my book he would read.

All that romantic, flirty crap that made my heart race and all the butterflies kick up.

I was starting to fall for him, and that was a little scary to me. We were supposed to just be fooling around and making our exes jealous. Nothing else.

It left me with a lot of questions.

Was I going to stay in Hundred Falls Valley? Was I going to keep working at the cafe? Was I honestly going to finish my book? Was I going to just live with Zayne? As his roommate…girlfriend…

I looked at my left hand. “His fiancée?”

I swallowed hard.

My phone started to ring from the kitchen table where I had been writing.

I had notes spread across the table, a mug of cold coffee, and some pens and pencils scattered around. My phone was under some of the papers.

I shuffled through, and when I saw the screen, I curled my lip.

It was Abby.

I licked my lips, thinking about it.

Finally, I touched the screen. I took the call.

“What do you want?”

* * *

I sat at the table and looked around. Nothing was mine except the coffee stained and wrinkly pages in front of me. That’s what I thought about as Abby spoke to me, her voice crackling with tears…or fear…or guilt…

“I never meant for it,” she said. “I shouldn’t have let it happen the way it did. I really wish we could meet up, Bella.”

“We did that,” I said. “Remember? When I came back? And you sat across from me and cried. You sucked me right in to your world, Abby. That was your chance to tell me everything, and you didn’t. You won my sympathy vote by lying.”

“I know,” she said. “I didn’t know what to do right then. We were…I was scared. For you.”

“Scared for me? And you both were?”

“Yes,” she said. “You disappeared. You took a couple bags and you were gone. We…I didn’t want to chase you away, Bella. I kind of hoped everyone could just talk. Figure it out.”

“Figure it out,” I said. I laughed. “What, you and Parker on the couch? Me in the chair? You two holding hands, telling me how you fell for each other because of me, right? Because I worked too much at the diner, right? Or that you just fell for him, or maybe that it started as crazy sex, huh? There was something you did for him I wouldn’t, right?”

Silence on the other end of the phone.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m sorry,” Abby said, her voice crackling again. “If you want to know, we had feelings for each other a long time ago. But I fought them off for you, Bella. Because you two got together. I wasn’t going to be that person.”

“But you ended up as that person…but worse.”

“Worse?”

“Yeah. Worse because you didn’t just fuck my boyfriend, you slept with him. You fell for him. He fell for you. While I was waiting tables, he was pounding his dick into you. You two probably played house while I was at the diner, knowing my shifts down to the hour. I bet you two even let the guilt slip away, right? It all became a sick sense of fucking normal.”

“Bella…please…”

“No,” I said. “Go fuck yourself, Abby. Go fuck Parker. You two deserve each other.”

I ended the call.

Before I could break down into tears, the door opened behind me.

I turned, blinking fast.

It was Zayne.

He wasn’t wearing a suit—but he was holding a bag.

* * *

“Where’s your suit?”

“Why do you look ready to cry?”

I looked up at him as he towered over me, standing next to me as I sat in the chair.

“Abby called.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Bitch.”

Zayne smirked. “You know, it’s going to be a tough thing to figure out, darlin’.”

“What is?”

“The whole thing. How you want to move forward. You can’t ignore it. I know you want me there to make him jealous, which is good. But for her…she was your best friend.”

“Exactly. She was.”

“You should get closure.”

“Are you telling me what to do, Zayne?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said. He then put the bag on the table. “This is for you.”

“I thought you were going to get a suit from Tate.”

“Have you seen Tate? I’m big, but that guy is something else. I’d look like a little kid in a suit of his.”

“So you lied?” I asked. “Zayne…”

He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “White lies, darlin’. They don’t hurt the skin so much. I have a suit in my closet. I wanted to do something for you. Make sure you know I care about you. Besides all this making our exes jealous bullshit stuff.”

I reached for the bag. “I don’t do gifts, Zayne. Or surprises. Or…”

“You do now,” he said.

I slowly stood and looked into the bag. Then I shoved it away. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Zayne. No way.”

He grabbed for my arm and looked me in the eyes. “I’m starting to see that people have been trampling on your heart and your dreams for a long time, darlin’. I don’t know what I am to you or what I could be for you, but if anything, you should have yourself to rely on. You want this dream, Bella. Then fucking get it.”

“You bought me a laptop,” I said.

“Yeah, I fucking did.”

“It’s expensive…”

“All those extra hours I worked when you took off after catching me in that lie,” he said. “It’s my apology. What you made me earn. It’s yours, Bella. Just write. Tell all the stories you can tell. Who gives a shit what anyone thinks?”

“Christ, Zayne,” I said, my voice breaking up. “What the fuck do I do now?”

“Thank me,” he whispered. “Then I’m going to fuck you. And then you’re going to type some words because I have a couple appointments at the shop.”

“You’re telling me what to do again, Zayne,” I said.

He touched my face. “Yeah, darlin’, this time I am…and you’re going to fucking listen to me…”