I glance over the menu, deciding to order the first thing my eyes settle on. Salmon. Whatever.

Holy shit. I sold Mom's alexandrite pendant. A ball of guilt lands in the center of my stomach, and I suddenly feel nauseous. Sweat breaks out along my forehead, and my hands feel clammy. For a moment, I'm afraid I'm going to vomit right here in this restaurant along the river, with Taylor sitting across from me.

Taylor. God, she's amazing. I look at her, watch as she fiddles with the ends of her hair, her eyes perusing each item on the menu. The scene of the water and boats are behind her, strands of her hair lifting in the wind. I observe the way her eyebrows dip together as she considers a lunch option, all small pieces, but together, they make up the most perfect woman I know. I couldn't have done it without her.

When we first stepped into Pierre's, I knew immediately that I was way out of my league. Taylor was so calm, so detached from the alexandrite in her interactions with Pierre that for a moment, I thought she didn't understand the importance of it—of any of this.

But then when we looked at those rings and her eyes brightened when she saw the green ring I pointed to, I knew she understood everything. Maybe even more than I do.

She's as precious as the rarest gemstone.

I sold Mom's pendant. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. I sold it, but I'll be able to save Taylor’s father with the money from it. I’ll be able to keep myself out of Griller’s grasp. It's fine. It will be okay. No one ever needs to know.

"What're you thinking?" Taylor looks up from her menu, her brow creasing as she takes in my expression. "You okay?"

I nod, breathing in deeply and holding the heavy air in my lungs for an extra beat. The nausea is already passing along with the guilt, and in its place is my complete and utmost admiration and respect for the girl sitting across from me.

I don't deserve her.

I'll never deserve her.

But hell if I don't want to try to.

"The salmon," I say finally.

She smiles, her face transforming. Taylor Clarke is all light and sunshine and pure goodness. How could I drag her into this? How could I be the reason why her father is losing his company? Was the poker game with the MC the final straw? The one that caused him to spiral downward? Did I bring financial ruin to the Clarke family?

"Me too."

I take a sip of water and try to clear my head, so I can focus on my conversation with her. So I can soak up every single second I get to spend in her company since it's definitely not going to last.

How could it?

"You sure you're okay?"

"Just overwhelmed," I admit.

She wrinkles her nose, her eyes growing serious as she nods sympathetically. "It must have been hard to part with something of your mom's," she says sincerely, missing the point that I'm overwhelmed because of her. Because of all of the goodness she's brought to my life. But I don't correct her. It's better if she thinks I'm hung up on the pendant.

"It'll be fine." I wave a hand in dismissal, grateful that the waiter picks that moment to take our orders.

Once we've ordered and are munching on pieces of bread, an easy silence settles between us. It's a beautiful day, in a perfect location, with the most incredible woman I've ever known.

I want to get down on one knee and present her with that green ring and ask her to be mine forever.

And that's a scary thought. Because I haven’t known her long enough to have such intense feelings. Because a guy like me has no right asking for a future with a girl like her after all I've put her through. After all that's still yet to come, all the things she doesn’t know about.

She's giddy beside me, laughing and pointing out random souvenirs and sights. She knows Savannah well, and we spend the afternoon getting lost in tiny shops and seeking out historical sites. We eat candy apples and pralines from River Street Sweets and drink sweet tea at Debi’s The Restaurant. We meander through Forsyth Park and pose for a kissing selfie in front of the fountain. We walk hand-in-hand down the Wormsloe Historic Sight, the giant branches of the Oak trees intertwining above our heads, keeping us insulated in a moment I wish could stretch on forever. When dusk begins to settle, we both know it's time to head home, but neither of us mentions it.

"Carter," Taylor says as we step out of an art gallery.

"Yeah, babe?" I ask her, amazed that I spent the last twenty-minutes learning about a local artist. My brothers would have a field day if they could see me. But for some reason, it doesn't matter what I'm doing with Taylor. I could be learning about the history of bugs and I wouldn't care. Everything with her is fun, exciting, infused with adventure and something innocent that I can't remember feeling since I was a kid. Since before Mom passed away and Dad left. Since the beginning. And as much as I don't want to let her go, I don't want to lose that feeling either.

"I don't want to go home," she admits, her eyes peering up at me from under her dark lashes.

"You don't?"

She shakes her head, snuggling closer into my side, and I wrap my arm around her, loving how perfectly she fits, as if we were two puzzle pieces meant to be joined together.

"We can stay."

She licks her bottom lip as her mouth curls into a gentle smile. "For real?"

I kiss the top of her head, squeezing her shoulder. "If you want to."

"Do you?" She peers up at me again, vulnerability flashing through her eyes.

"More than anything."

She laughs breathlessly, lifting my hand from her shoulder and bringing it around her to place a quick kiss on my open palm.

"Me too."

Locked away in a boutique hotel that Taylor suggested, my fingers ache to undress her, to have her laid out beneath me, her golden hair spread across the white of the pillow. For a moment, I feel like a kid again—nervous in the presence of a beautiful woman. Which is insane because I've been with so many beautiful women.

But none quite like Taylor.

I'm desperate to feel her beneath me and desperate to take my time, savoring every inch of her skin.

"Come here." I reach for her from my spot on the edge of the bed, but she escapes my grasp.

"Give me two minutes." She holds up two fingers and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door partially behind her.

I flop back onto the bed, pulling out my phone to make sure my brothers or Daisy haven't tried to reach me.

Texas Ink: Tick tock. What's up?

Me: Tell Griller he’ll have the money by tomorrow. Clarke stays out of this.

Texas Ink: Serious?

Me: Yeah.

Texas Ink: Tomorrow by noon or Joe Clarke’s going to wish he never met you.

Yeah, I’m sure he already fucking wishes that. My throat tightens just reading the words, and I feel my blood pressure spike. How am I ever going to meet the man under different circumstances? He’s never going to accept me. He’d be an idiot to welcome me into his family. And yet, I’m pawning off one of the only links Daisy could have to my mom in order to save his ass, in order to make things okay for Taylor. God, I’m in love with a woman who is going to hate me the moment she finds out what I did, who I really am.

I fight down the bile rising in my stomach at the thought of losing Taylor. At the realization that she’s going to look at me like the low-life scumbag that I am.

"Hey." Taylor opens the door to the bathroom and stands before me.

Clad in light pink silky underwear and a clingy black tank top, she's breathtaking. Her hair is loose and wild around her shoulders, falling to the center of her back. Her eyes are big and sparkling, dashes of excitement and nerves flickering around their edges.

I sit speechless, drinking her in like she's a mirage. I sit up slowly and toss my phone onto the bedside table.

"Taylor." I reach out to her, and she takes slow steps toward me, settling her body in between my knees.

My fingers grasp the edges of her hair, rubbing her silky strands between them. I lean forward and press a kiss to the left side of her abdomen, to where the end of her scar peeks out from the hemline, twisting the perfection of her skin. I know this scar is the reason why she's still wearing her tank top.

Her breath catches, and her hands settle on my shoulders.

I stand slowly, peppering her skin with kisses. Her hands fall from my shoulders, glide down my chest, and tuck just above the waistband of my jeans as I reach my full height.

I brush hair back from her face and sweep my fingers along her cheek, hooking my hand behind her neck. "You're the most beautiful person I know," I tell her truthfully.

She blinks, pursing her lips into a pout. "Person?"

I chuckle. "You're a beautiful woman, Taylor. But it's so much deeper than skin-level."

She shivers under my touch, and I pull her closer, until I can feel her nipples poking through the thin material of her tank, until each rise and fall of her chest brushes against mine, until our breaths mingle, and her eyes flutter closed, her cheek leaning into my touch.

Then my mouth descends over hers, and I capture whatever words she's about to murmur with my lips. She melts into me, a soft moan falling from her throat, and the sound jolts through my body. Her skin is like silk beneath my fingers, her softness and sweetness dissolving into my hardness and heat. She's more than everything I ever could have imagined.

And more than anything, I wish this beginning would never end.