My heart beats against the inside of my chest, so hard and fast I swear it’s going to burst out of my ribcage. I can feel Kyla whipping her head back and forth between Wes and I, but I can’t take my eyes off the man standing in front of me. Despite everything, all the things he’s done and all the things I now know, he still has the power to make my knees turn to straight-up jelly.

“Hello, Rori.” His voice fills our tiny office, ricocheting off the four walls and lancing straight through me. His hair and the shoulders of his jacket are wet from the rain, but he seems oblivious to it.

I fold my arms. I won’t give him an inch. Mostly because I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll fall to pieces completely. And this time, I might not be able to put myself back together again.

Wes seems to be able to sense my new iron will, because he clears his throat and then straightens his tie, something I’ve come to recognize as a nervous habit of his.

For a second, my resolve weakens, just a hair. But I force myself to stay steadfast. Rock solid. I don’t even speak, because I don’t trust what might come out of my mouth.

Wes runs his hand through his wet hair.

“I was hoping we could talk,” he says. Once again, the deep rumble of his voice fills the room, enveloping me like a warm blanket.

“I’m not sure we have anything to talk about.” The words tumble like dry stones out of my mouth. Why oh why oh why does he have to have this much effect on me? I should be furious with him, but being confronted with the sight of him, up close and personal like this, is undoing me completely.

“Please, Rori,” he says. His voice is earnest, almost sad.

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I try to spit out the word no, but I can’t seem to form even that one simple syllable.

That’s when he holds out a small white box I hadn’t noticed he was carrying. My throat constricts, and I swallow down a lump. I recognize the box right away, the small green and white sticker on the side that says Bloomers. It’s from my parents’ flower shop, and judging by the size of the box, I know exactly what’s in it.

Wes keeps holding out the box, but I don’t move to take it.

“This is for you,” he says, as if I couldn’t tell by the way he’s offering it up towards me.

“I know.” I still don’t touch it. It’s not until Kyla elbows me in the ribs, hard, that I reluctantly step forward and take the box from him.

“It’s from your parents’ shop,” he says. He runs his hand through his damp hair again as I ease open the box. My throat forms a lump that I try to swallow. Inside the box is a corsage. A wrist corsage, like the one Wes was supposed to bring me for our prom, so many years ago. It looks just like how I always pictured it — small white roses, greenery, little silver beads like the ones I wore in my hair that night.

“I had your mom recreate the same one I was supposed to give you that night,” he says. His voice sounds thick, and I have to lean against the conference table as I stare down at the arrangement.

Kyla is still staring at me — even without looking up at her, I can feel her eyes boring straight into me — but I don’t acknowledge her. Instead I force myself to speak to Wes.

“It’s a sweet gesture,” I tell him. “But it’s not enough.”

“I know,” he says hastily. “I just wanted you to know that I remember, that I’ve thought about that night every day of my life, that I’ve regretted my actions more than anything else I’ve ever done.”

I raise one eyebrow at him, and he looks away.

“Well, up until recently,” he adds.

Downstairs, Buttercup chooses that exact moment to end her cycle, and the sudden silence that fills the office is deafening.

“All I want is to talk,” he says now. He’s starting to sound less composed, like it’s suddenly occurred to him that I might just say no. “Please, Rori. At least let me explain, and then you never have to talk to or see me again, if that’s what you want.”

The sudden thought of never talking to or seeing Wes again seems as shocking as losing a limb, and I almost gasp at the idea of it.

Instead I look at Kyla. I try to ask her, without words, what I should do. She answers me without words too — by practically shoving me into Wes’s arms.

I stumble forward, and then glare back at her. She shrugs innocently. Wes grins. I’m feeling seriously outnumbered here.

I fold my arms again, to both prove that I’m not amused and because it feels safer, somehow.

“Fine. We can talk.”

Just hearing the words seems to release some of the tension in Wes’s shoulders. His grin broadens.

“That’s great, Rori. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

He hesitates. “I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where?” I repeat.

“Can you please just trust me?”

I glare at him, and he winces.

“Sorry. I get it. But just ... Let’s go. Don’t make me ruin the surprise.”

As much as I hate it, my interest is piqued. I shoot another look at Kyla, but she shrugs. I toss my hands up in the air.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

I set the corsage box down on the conference table, but Wes shakes his head.

“You’re going to need that.”

I wrinkle my brow in confusion, but he only smiles mysteriously. I follow him out of the office and down the stairs into the street.

* * *

We don’t talk while we’re in the car. I don’t know where we’re going, but it seems like wherever it is, that’s where Wes wants to do his talking. Which is fine by me. I spend the time staring out the window, watching the buildings go by and trying not to think about the man sitting and breathing and existing beside me.

Except soon we’re in a neighborhood I recognize.

I whip my head around to face Wes.

“What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.”

“Wes…”

“Rori, please. I asked you to trust me. Just give me this.”

“Fine.” I sit back in my seat, but only for a second. Then I’m pressing my face to the glass again, watching as Wes’s SUV pulls up in front of the Elmwood Gables Community Center.

Before I can ask any more questions, Wes is out of the car and darting around behind it to open my door for me.

“Thank you. Should I … take this?” I gesture to the corsage box.

He nods, his face still giving nothing away, except the ghost of a smile that he can’t seem to keep off his lips.

The humidity in the air has broken, and the sun is finally starting to burn through the grey, giving the sky that feeling that the city is waking up, coming alive again, even though it’s evening now. A flutter of hope passes through me, one I try hard to tamp down.

Wes takes my hand and leads me up the cement front steps and pulls open the heavy blue door.

“After you.”

I step into the community center. Behind the front desk is the same bored Indian girl who sat there the last time I was here, only this time she looks excited to see me.

“She came!” She hisses the words to Wes, and I can tell she’s trying to be quiet and failing spectacularly.

Wes winks at her and leads me down the long hallway. The smell of bleach and gym shoes hasn’t changed, but there’s something else in the air tonight too. Something that feels like … electricity. Anticipation. Excitement. A group of kids cluster at the doors of the gym area, watching us walk down the hallway and pointing. Barb, the director I’d met with on my first visit here, pokes her head out of her office and flashes us a thumbs-up. I give her a confused wave and keep following Wes.

We reach the back of the center and Wes pushes open the heavy door, the one that leads out to the garden. The smell hits me first, just like it did the first time, that rich perfumed haze of the roses, the azaleas, the peonies, made all the more lush by the rain and the moisture in the air. For a second I close my eyes and breathe it in.

Then I feel Wes’s hand on my lower back. The touch sends a shiver through me, and I breathe that in too, just like the rich scents of the garden.

“Well?” he says. There’s a hesitation in his voice. A note of worry. “What do you think?”

I slowly open my eyes, taking in the sight in front of me. I suck in a breath and look at Wes in amazement.

“What is this?”

He smiles, and now it’s one that actually reaches the corners of his eyes, making his whole face look open and warm.

“It’s what I never gave you before. It’s our prom.”