XAVIER FOX

“This price is all wrong for this condo. You’re never going to sell it at this price. Drop it at least two-fifty. You’ll sell it in two weeks. Guaranteed.” Hershel Goldstein wags his finger in my face. He’s the last broker to shuffle into my Saturday morning broker’s open.

“I appreciate the advice.” I pat him on the back, giving him a good squeeze. His shoulders are tight, like he holds too much energy in his upper half. It’s the sign of a man who thinks too much. I should know. Hershel needs to get laid, but judging by the high-water pants and the oversized, nineties glasses he still wears, getting laid is the least of his priorities. “I’ll revisit my comps when I get back to the office.”

I say what I have to say to silence him. I know my comps. I know my price is right, and my clients won’t go a cent below asking. I’m not new to this game. Still, I can’t help but wonder what Magnolia would think about the price. She was always better at numbers. She did the pricing and negotiating. I did the selling.

“Very well.” He shoves his glasses up his nose and heads for the door. I grab my things from the kitchen peninsula and start flipping lights off.

Before I hit the last light, the door flings open. I don’t look up. “We wrapped up about five minutes ago.”

They don’t answer.

I glance up, my heart catching in my throat. “This broker’s open was invite-only.”

Magnolia slinks her shoulder to her ear, offering a timid smile. It’s not like her to play coy. This must be Apologetic Magnolia. I don’t recognize her because I’ve never seen her before. There was never any need. When we were friends, she never lied to or hurt or misled me. She was good to me.

But I’m still livid.

“What are you doing here?” I set my things on the counter, folding my arms. My suit jacket constricts, pulling tight against my back. She’s dressed up for a Saturday morning. Black leather leggings. Lacy blouse. Curled hair. Glossed lips. Fuck-me heels.

“Apologizing.” She steps closer to me, closing the door. “You’re not the monster I made you out to be. I was wrong. I should’ve come to you. I shouldn’t have assumed. I was so obsessed with getting hurt, that taking what you said at face value was the only thing that made sense to me.”

I study her, wanting to keep my distance yet wanting to hold her at the same time.

“Look, you know I’m not good with words,” she says. “I’ve never been persuasive like you.” She sighs, her fingers toying. “Let me put it this way: eight hundred fifty-four days. Two Christmases. Two New Year’s Eves. Two New Year’s Day hangovers. Hundreds of celebrated sales. Dozens of missed vacations. Zero pictures . . .”

I fight a wistful smirk. Magnolia was always numbers-oriented. Anytime I wanted to win an argument with her, all I had to do was paint a logical picture she’d understand.

“I get it.” I inch toward her. “You missed the hell out of me.”

Her head hangs. “I did.”

Her voice is an insecure whisper, ill-fitting on a woman like her. Magnolia’s shoulders shrink as I come closer. If this is her kowtowing, she’s doing a damn fine job.

“You want to try this again?” I reach for her, pulling her into me. Cupping her chin in my hand, I lift her eyes to meet mine. Our lips hold, inches apart. Her heat melts into me, and her scent drags slowly into my lungs. “Clean slate? Fresh start?”

Magnolia bites her lower lip, fighting a relieved smirk. She exhales. “I do. I think we owe it to ourselves, you know?”

I pull her mouth to mine, grazing my lips across hers and breathing her in before crushing that perfect pout with a hungry kiss. My hands find her hair, locking her against me. She moans into my mouth. Maybe it’s a whimper. A sign of reprieve. Forgiveness.

Sweet surrender.

My lips leave hers. I could kiss her for hours and still need more.

“My clients are coming home soon.” My hands drag down her arms, not wanting to let her go just yet.

She nods, running her fingertips across her swollen lips. She looks good like this. Messy hair. Puffy lips. A bewildered look in her sparkling chocolate eyes.

“What are you doing the rest of the day?” I gather my things off the peninsula and flip the last switch before showing her out.

“I left my schedule pretty open.” The corner of her mouth pulls up.

“Oh, you did? Because you were so certain your little speech would work?”

“Of course.” Her lips spread wide. It’s been a long time since a woman’s smile could make my entire body numb and electric all at once. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

“So sure of yourself.” I slip my arm around her waist and amble next to her, down the hall and toward the elevator. “I’ve always admired that about you.”

We board the elevator and reach for the door close button at the same time. I back her into the corner and lower my mouth to hers, stealing another kiss because one wasn’t enough. She’s been back in my life for a whole five minutes, and I’m already addicted.

The elevator comes to a gentle stop, the doors parting to let an elderly couple on board.

“Hello.” Magnolia offers them a friendly wave. They look at us with straight faces and nod.

Seconds later, we’re safely deposited on the main floor, heading through the bustling lobby toward the street. When we reach the sidewalk, we’re holding hands. I’m not sure how or when it happened, but I’m not about to let go of her. I pull her toward me, turning to head down Park Avenue.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my place.”

“What are we doing?” She steps faster, catching up with me. My hand grips tight around hers, refusing to let go. The rest of the world can walk around us.

“I’m spending the rest of the day with you. We’re going to hang out. Watch movies. Order takeout. Talk about work. Talk about life.” I pull her into me as we walk. “We’re pressing the reset button. It starts now. We pissed away two years, Magnolia. I’m not losing another day with you.”