“Do we want a pop-up when someone logs onto the website? Or just a tab at the bottom for them to sign up for the newsletter?” Violet Schaffer looks at me over the top of her computer, playing with the tail of her long, red braid. “I prefer the tab. The pop-ups stress me out, although research says they’re effective.”

“Research also suggests that anti-aging creams reduce fine lines and wrinkles,” I point out. “I still have crow’s feet.”

“You do not,” she laughs.

“Oh, I do too. But it’s fine. I’ll just continue to wear bright lipstick and low cut shirts to divert attention away from my eyes.”

“Speaking of your cleavage, did the guy from the bistro call you last night?”

“Yup,” I say cheerfully, examining some sunglasses we just got in. “I hit the trusty FU button. Right to voicemail he went.”

Violet hangs her head, her braid swishing on the tabletop. “Why?”

“Meh,” I shrug.

“Meh?” She looks up at me and rolls her eyes. “What more could you possibly want? He was very good-looking, had a good job from what we could overhear, smelled fantastic, and I so kindly gave him your number and not mine.”

“Only because you have had two good weeks of screwing Jonas.”

“Your point?”

“That doesn’t make Bistro Guy any less meh to me.”

She flashes me another look, one that says I’m too picky, but I ignore it. We’ve been over this too many times to count and it always ends up the same way—her confused and me frustrated.

So what if I have a laundry list of stipulations a man must meet to even spark my interest? That doesn’t make me a bad person. It doesn’t even make me difficult. It makes me smart.

It’s not me that keeps getting burned by men over and over. Yes, I got roasted once. Hurt so badly that I didn’t think I’d survive … but I did. And like all the songs say, I’m stronger for it. I’m even thankful for it. There’s no way I’d be the me I am without having had my heart smashed from the start.

“Maybe all those things don’t add up to the homerun you think they do,” I suggest.

“Maybe you’ll never know if you FU him.” A grin dances across her lips. “I’d have FU’d him in a much more gymnastic way.”

“I’m sure you would’ve,” I laugh.

We go back to the tasks at hand, Violet working on Halcyon’s website and me sorting through shipments of inventory for our new shop. Vi is the brains behind the operation with her business degree. I’m the sales specialist with my major in marketing. Our store is a little shop of affordable, stylish, and practical items for women. It’s not just clothes, but accessories, lifestyle items, and fun trinkets. The best part about our business model is that a percentage of every purchase goes to local charities, including Shelters for Savannah, the one closest to my heart.

The grin on my face that’s ever-present when I’m inside this building is pasted on my lips. I’ve never had something that makes me want to get up in the morning and just get after it before now. This isn’t just a job to me. It’s the start of a new life, one that I worked my tail off for.

After working my way through college in Florida, waiting tables and cleaning office buildings, I worked in marketing at an online company for a few years. I paid my dues, strategized, saved, and made my way. And here we are.

The door chimes in the front and Violet looks at me with a furrowed brow. “You expecting someone?” she asks.

“Nope.”

“Could be Mr. FU,” she teases.

“Oh,” I say with mock excitement. “Hold me back.”

“You’re such a jerk,” she laughs. “I’ll see who it is. I need to grab my water bottle anyway.” She takes off through the doorway towards what will be the sales floor. Her footsteps trail off under the hip-hop music she has playing from her phone through the sound system.

It’s a few minutes before I hear her clear her throat. Glancing up, she’s standing at the doorway with a huge smile on her face. She wiggles her eyebrows.

“What’s that all about?” I laugh.

“I hope he has a brother,” she giggles, walking towards me.

“Who?”

“The security guy. Holy hell, Ellie.”

Tossing a checkered blouse back in a bin, I face her. “He’s cute, I take it?”

“Cute? Ha! He’s tall, but not dark, and so, so handsome. Like, so handsome,” she exaggerates, one hand lying dramatically over her heart. “Did I mention he’s wearing a suit? I just want to rip it off with my teeth—”

“Down girl,” I laugh, shoving her playfully. “Are you going to show him around or what?”

“Do you seriously want to leave that to me? It could be an insurance liability before we ever even open our doors.”

Laughing, I see her point. “I’m not sure what the end goal here is, really. I get we aren’t in the ritzy part of town, but I’m not sold on the idea we need to pay for security.”

“I’d pay for that.”

“Violet!”

“Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“Lord, help me,” I mumble. “Okay. I’ll show him around and then we can kindly tell him we don’t need his services. Sound like a plan?”

“You are so not fun,” she pouts.

“Hey, tell Mallory you need security at your house,” I joke. “Have her send him to you there where you can really do business, if you get my drift.”

She points at me. “You’re a genius.”

“It’s been said.” I glance down at my blouse, now a little worse for wear from moving boxes and cleaning shelves. “Do I look decent? I don’t have dirt anywhere or cookie crumbs on my shirt, right?”

“No, but check between your boobs,” she teases.

“He’s not going to be seeing between my boobs.”

“Not with that attitude.”

Shaking my head, I leave the back room. As I enter the front, my feet stutter-step.

This only happens to me every once in a while, maybe twice a year now, when I’m in a crowded restaurant or a movie theater. Every time, when I think I smell his cologne, my breath catches in my throat. Without fail, I’m taken back to warm summer nights, cheap strawberry wine, and the sound of crickets chirping as the sun goes down. My heart flip-flops and I have to remind myself of the rest of that story to settle myself back down again.

I round a stack of boxes, a couple of cans of paint we’re testing on the walls, and a few racks that need assembled. The mess distracts me, especially the swatch of paint on the far wall. It’s more of a lime green than a mint one and I hate it. Making a mental note to talk to Vi about it, my head whips to the side and I see a large body standing near the front windows.

“Hi, I’m …” My voice drifts away, shoved aside by the sheer incredulity of the moment. “I …”

I’ve often wondered as I’ve taken a seat in that restaurant or movie theater what would happen if I turned around and the cologne was coming from Ford Landry. Now I know.

My hand trembles as it flies to my mouth as my brown eyes nearly bug out of my head. The organ inside my chest responsible for loving this man betrays the years of telling it I don’t anymore. It throbs so wildly I think I’m going to pass out.

The man I haven’t seen in so long that I almost convinced myself he never existed is here, in Halcyon, like he just wandered in off the street.

“Oh, my God,” I stutter, reaching blindly for something to grab on to.

His head is down, pointed to the floor, as he crouches and examines a box of hats. The hard line of his jaw is angled to my benefit, the expanse of his shoulders and chest awe-worthy. He fills out the pricey black suit stretched over his body like it was made just for him.

His hair is lighter now and there are little lines he didn’t used to have at his temple. He still carries the regal-ness that the Landry’s are known for. Somehow, in all that, he’s maintained the sense of approachability that I always loved about him.

Simply put, he isn’t the boy I used to know. He’s an amplified, all-male version that has me gasping for breath.

The fog in my brain starts to lift as he stands. Panic creeps into my belly, along with a heavy sense of dread. I’ve managed to avoid the little ice cream shop on the east side of town where we used to go get milkshakes. It hasn’t been that hard driving to the movie theater in the town next door so I don’t have to remember making out with him in the back of ours. But as he starts to turn his head my way, I realize: there is no ignoring him now.

I turn to head to the back when my shoulder bumps a stack of boxes and knocks them off balance. They topple to the floor. Ford whirls right around.

To face me.

For the first time in almost ten years.

His eyes widen, his head twisting to the side like he’s as surprised to see me as I am him. I take a step back, needing every bit of space between us as my emotions struggle to get in line.

“Ellie?”

The richness of his tone, the way my name sounds rolling off his tongue, sends a shock wave through me. I don’t answer him. I don’t trust my voice. Not yet.

“My God, Ellie. Is that you?”

This can’t be happening.

I watch his face transform from curious and confused to confident and assessing. He takes me in from head to toe, the weight of his gaze washing over me like a warm blanket.

I lift my chin. “How are you, Ford?”

I’m impressed at how smooth I sound. It gives away nothing—not at how much he hurt me or how much I’ve managed to hate him or how surprised I am that he’s here. It’s completely devoid of any shits given. It’s perfect.

“I …” He stammers, still wrapping his brain around the situation. He runs a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s nervous or thrown for a loop. “Wow. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says hurriedly. He takes a step, then stops. “I … How are you? How have you been?”

“Great.” I give him the sweetest smile I can manage, but he notices the sarcasm. “And why are you here?”

“To do a security assessment, actually.” He looks around the room. “Is this place yours?”

“Yes.”

“Were you expecting me?” He gives me a hopeful look, one that I have to look away from. I don’t want to see anything in his features, hear anything in his voice, that will make me feel anything but the detachment I’ve managed to hone when it comes to him.

Or that I think I’ve honed for him. The way my hands are shaking, I’m not sure I have it as mastered as I may have believed.

“If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve cancelled the appointment.”

“Ellie,” he breathes, “I just want to say—”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything,” I say simply. “I didn’t know it was you coming as much as you didn’t know it was me you were coming to. No harm, no foul.”

We stand in the middle of Halcyon, watching each other from opposite sides of a trench dug deeply between us so long ago. There are so many landmines scattered around us, things ready to explode, and I know he feels it too. It’s best we just end this now.

“We don’t have a need for security,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’ll thank Mallory and tell her we decided it wasn’t necessary.”

“Wait. Mallory? As in Mallory Sims?”

I nod.

He looks at the ceiling and laughs. “I’m gonna fucking kill her.”

“Me too,” I mutter under my breath. “How do you know Mallory?”

“She’s dating my brother, Graham. They’re living together, actually.”

“Oh,” I say, pulling my brows together. “That’s so odd. She couldn’t have known that you and I, um …”

There’s no easy way to say what we were to each other. The fact of the matter is, I’m not even sure myself. I’m not about to open up that can of worms and let all of that mess out in the middle of the store. Not with Violet around. Not after all these years.

It’s done. I loved him. I needed him. He left me. Done.

His lips press together as he struggles with how to respond. Finally, he shrugs. “I know it seems odd, but with Mallory in the mix, it just got a whole lot less random. How do you know her?”

“I just started taking yoga at her studio. This security thing was a ‘token of friendship,’ she called it, for Violet and I. But, as we can see, it’s totally unnecessary.”

Turning on my heel, I take precisely one step before he speaks.

“I’m happy to draw up a security plan,” he offers. There’s something hidden in those words, an emotion I’m not interested in picking apart. Instead, I face him.

“We don’t need you. Thank you though.”

“I didn’t say you needed me.”

We exchange a look, mine verging on a glare, his something else entirely.

“Look, Ellie, I—”

Silencing him with a shake of my head, I half-laugh. “I don’t know what you’re going to say, but I don’t want to hear it.”

His face falls a bit. “What if I wanted to say I’m sorry?”

“I would try not to laugh.”

“Ellie—”

“If you’re sorry for what you should be, you’re about a decade too late.”

“I know.”

For a split second, I look at him objectively. There’s a hint of sadness behind those baby blue eyes, and if I looked deep enough, I would remember the Ford I used to know. A look of vulnerability. A glimpse of uncertainty. Not the fine-as-hell man in front of me, but the boy that wasn’t sure how he fit in the world around him.

It’s a good thing I don’t look too hard because it makes it that much easier to remember everything else.

“What’s been going on with you?” He leans against the wall, finding his footing. The hesitation has cleared from his eyes and he’s watching me now, looking for a weakness.

He’s my weakness. It’s a good thing he doesn’t know that.

“I don’t have time for small talk,” I scoff, feeling my determination to resist him begin to wane. “I have a million things to do.”

“As do I,” he grins. “But my day was scheduled prior to knowing you were in town.” He shoves off the wall, towering over me with his six-foot-three frame. “It’s been a long time, Ellie.”

“Not long enough.”

Instead of backing him down, my words seem to only rile him up. He grins. The asshole grins at me.

My eyes involuntarily roll in my head. “Some things never change.”

“You’re right. Some things don’t.” His head cocks to the side, his smile deepening. “And some things do.”

“I’m not playing words games with you,” I huff. “Why don’t you see yourself out?”

“Why don’t you go to dinner with me?”

“What part of this conversation are you not understanding?” I take a step towards him, my eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you in my building, and I sure as hell don’t want to go to dinner with you.”

It’s only when I’m standing directly in front of him, head tilted back to look into his face, close enough to be able to lean my head against his chest and have him wrap his powerful arms around me, do I realize what a bad idea this was.

Our breathing quickens, his eyes growing stormy. A chill tears through me as he accidentally-on-purpose brushes his arm against mine. It’s like muscle memory, my body remembering exactly what to do around his.

My knees dip, my mouth waters, and I fight the ache in between my thighs as he looks down at me like it’s me he wants for dinner.

“What if I throw breakfast in afterwards?” he prods. “Does that make me, I mean it, more appetizing?”

That’s all it takes, that one little hint of arrogance, that brings me back to reality.

I flip him a smile. “It makes it less, actually.”

His own smile wavers. “I get that you might dislike me.”

“Dislike you? Try again. It’s much more than that.”

I’m not sure that’s true—I don’t know how to put into words how I feel about him. I just know that right now isn’t the time to try.

“I want the chance to explain,” he says. “Give me the chance to sit down and talk to you.”

“You have the same chances of getting the chance to explain as I do of getting what every woman wants.”

“What’s that?”

I lean in, like I’m going to tell him a secret. “Being able to eat all the pizza and not gain an ounce.”

I start to head to the back as his chuckle fills the room. “That was good. I’ll give you that.”

I shrug and keep walking.

“You can at least let me apologize.”

The authority in his tone, like I owe him something, stops me in my tracks. I whirl around to face him. “You don’t deserve a chance to apologize to me.”

“I didn’t say I deserved it,” he says earnestly. “But I would love the opportunity to do so.” He forces a swallow, my eyes glued to his lips. “I would appreciate the chance to get to see you again.”

The snicker that comes from me is unexpected by both of us. “So charming. I forgot how good you are with words.”

“Does that mean that’s a yes?”

“That means that’s a no,” I smile. “That means I’m not about to let you come in here and look at me with those bright blue eyes and make me forget what it felt like to have you rip my heart out.”

“I didn’t mean to do that, Ellie.”

“Don’t act surprised,” I laugh angrily. “There’s no way you thought I just went on with my life after you left. I dated you for four years, Ford. And after what we went through …”

It’s me gulping now, the anger so palpable that I almost have tears in my eyes. My hands shake as I remember the fight that ensued after he told me he was enlisting.

“You left me,” I repeat, shaking my head. “So leave me again. There’s the door. Should I hold it open for you this time?”

I motion behind him, my eyes trained on his.

He takes me in for a long moment, a lifetime of memories washing over his features. With one final smile and an ease in his shoulders, he heads to the door. I sigh a breath of relief.

“What time should I swing by next week?” he asks.

“What are you talking about? Was I not perfectly clear?”

“You were,” he says simply. “So do you get in around eight? Nine?”

A rustle breaks out behind me, surprising us both. Vi approaches with an amused look in her eye. “Am I interrupting something?” she asks sweetly.

“Not at all,” Ford chirps, deliberately looking over my head. “You can actually help.”

“I’d love to,” she says all too happily.

“Can you tell me what time you usually start in the mornings?”

“Vi …” I warn.

She ignores me, her eyes dead-set on the hunk of man candy in front of her. “I’m usually here by nine, but I think you mean what time Ellie will be here.”

“Violet.”

She ignores me. “Ellie is usually here by nine-thirty, depending on the line for vanilla lattes at Frank’s.”

“Great. I will see you next week then,” he says.

“No, you won’t,” I command. As he opens the door, ignoring me completely, a stream of fear and anger roars through my veins. “We don’t want you here, Ford.”

He turns on his heel. Bending down so we’re at almost eye-level, his breath is hot against my skin. “Go to dinner with me.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll see you around nine-thirty,” he grins.

“No, you will not!”

He leans against the door frame. “You can’t expect me to know you’re here and not want to see you.”

“I absolutely can expect that and I do.”

“Oh, just let him come back,” Violet almost begs. “I mean, look at him, Ellie.”

“Stay out of this, Violet,” I groan.

Ford chuckles, but doesn’t take his eyes off mine.

“This isn’t funny, Ford. I have a business to run—”

“Me too, and mine has a contract with yours.”

“No, you don’t,” I state matter-of-factly.

He looks at Violet with a smirk that almost melts me. “You seem like a reasonable woman. Isn’t it prudent to have some sort of security plan in place to protect your assets? Why do all this work and leave it open to unnecessary risk?”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”

Ford ignores me and keeps his focus on my helpless friend. “I’d love to come back and put together a plan for you. And, if price is an issue, I have a crazy deal this week that we could throw in.”

“Ellie did mention the budget,” Violet offers.

“How does this work for your budget?” he turns to me. “It’s free.”

I look at the ceiling, words escaping me, as Violet begins to laugh.

“I’ll be here in the next few days to get started,” he grins.

“Ford, please,” I stutter, trying to figure out a way to stop this before he disappears. “This isn’t necessary.”

“I’m not just going to walk away from you again that easily.” He lets his gaze linger on me for a moment longer than necessary. Then he looks behind me. “Nice to meet you, Violet.”

The sunlight seems to swallow him as he jogs across the street, his suit jacket trailing behind him.