I’d just wobbled my way into the kitchen when Kelly walked in through the back door. She was trailed by two men from the security company Justin had hired.

“Hey,” she said as I plunked myself into one of her wooden chairs and set my crutches within arm’s reach. “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

She grabbed a bowl of watermelon from the fridge and came over to sit at the table with me. Her eyes flicked to Rob, who was standing guard behind my right shoulder and didn’t seem to plan on sitting any time soon.

“How are your feet?”

A shrug. “Better than expected. Can you tell Justin thanks for the crutches?”

She nodded, squeezed my hand, and dug into the melon.

I smiled. “Can I risk snagging a piece? Or will you gnaw off my fingers?”

“Funny,” she said, a dribble of juice running down her chin. “These babies, they just make me so hungry all the time.” She paused, her hand coming to her stomach. “Either that or nauseous. Ugh.” She pushed the bowl away, wiped her mouth, and leaned her head back to glance at the ceiling.

“Rob,” I said and all but shoved the bowl at him. “Take that away and grab the saltines from the pantry. They’re on the top shelf.”

“I haven’t had time to go to the store,” she said.

I carefully patted Kel’s knee. “I hid an extra box in there last time I was over.” I smiled when her relieved eyes met mine. “For emergencies just like this.”

Rob was back before I finished speaking, a sleeve of the cardboard-like crackers in hand.

I swear, there was nothing better for any stomach ailment than saltines.

I opened the package, thrust a few crackers at Kel, and turned to ask Rob for a glass of water, but he was already there, cup in hand.

Without a word, he set it within Kel’s reach.

My eyes shot to his, and I felt the band around my heart, my lungs—the one that had been making it impossible for me to breathe, to feel anything deeply . . . I finally felt that band snap.

I had to look down, to take a couple of deep inhalations as I studied the grain pattern on the table and willed the tears away.

Was it relief I felt? Or fear?

Fear that I’d opened myself up to Rob again, that I couldn’t continue to hold myself separate and safe.

That I’d go back to being the Melissa of the last few months.

Shut down. Distant. Weak.

Rob cupped my jaw in his palm. He shook his head, just once, as though he knew what I was thinking . . . as though to say, “Never again.”

And then he kissed me.

It could have been our first kiss all over again. His lips were so gentle, so softly coaxing against mine. As if he were scared I’d pull away. As if he had to convince me to stay and give him a chance.

But here was the thing.

This was Rob. This was me. This was us.

I tilted my head to deepen the contact, to shatter all those walls I’d erected against him. I pressed closer, wrapped my arms around his neck.

There could never be anyone else.

Only Rob.

We broke apart, maybe a minute, maybe an hour later. I’d lost all track of time in his arms.

He panted slightly as he rested his forehead against mine.

“Miss, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry too.”

We stayed like that for a minute, huddled together in our perfect slice of the world.

But all things had to come to an end.

And this one, the first good one between Rob and I in what seemed like an eternity, was shattered by a text message.

How fitting.