“So, I’m feeling like Finn and I are best friends now,” I say, smirking at Gracyn as she locks the door of McBride’s behind us.

It took a bit, but Finn finally caught on that we had maybe been in the middle of something when he went all crazypants over me being in his bar … pub. He corrected me on the distinction. The establishment is a pub; drinks are served on the bar.

“Pretty sure he’ll tell everyone that you are. Sorry about that. He’s a little—”

“He’s great. No worries.” I follow her to her car, not quite done. I have so much more I need to say to Gracyn.

She looks around the lot, empty other than her car and I assume Finn’s. “You didn’t take a cab all the way up here, did you?” She ducks into the back seat and pulls out a snow brush.

“No.” I laugh, shifting from one foot to the other, trying to keep my balls from freezing off. “The train and then a cab … Uber, whatever. Here, let me. You get in and warm it up.”

I take the brush from her and clear the snow from the car. She reaches in and starts the engine but shoves her hands in her pockets and watches me.

“What’s the plan then?” She looks adorable in her puffy black coat, a deep purple slouchie covering her blonde waves.

In the light of the streetlamp, her cheeks are all rosy and pink, probably from the cold, but goddamn, I’m not done here.

“I don’t know. I want to finish what we started before Finn busted up the party, but we can … I’ll grab a room and maybe we can have coffee tomorrow?” Lord help me, I don’t want to wait. I say a silent prayer that she—

“Just get in. Kate’s gone home for a couple of days, so …” She leaves a suggestion hanging between us.

I don’t know if it’s an invite to just finish the convo or for a night on the couch, but I’m wishing and willing to explore my options.

After my fit over the idea of Brooks being in her apartment and then the satisfaction of finding out that I was wrong, I take in every detail of the place. There are such distinct differences in style; I wonder how she and Kate manage to occupy the same space.

“Can I get you anything? A drink, something to eat?” she offers, dropping her boots by the door and chucking her jacket on a small bench.

“Nah, I’m good,” I say, though handing off my dinner catches up with me, and my stomach rumbles. “Or something light would be great. Sorry.”

Smiling, Gracyn opens the fridge and pulls out a couple of chunks of cheese, some prosciutto, and sausage, arranging everything on a cutting board. She adds some crusty bread and some grapes before grabbing a bottle of wine and some glasses. “You want to get the board? Napkins are in the last drawer on the left.” She points across the small kitchen before heading into the next room.

I add my jacket to the chair and toe off my boots. G is curled into the corner of the dark gray couch, the velvet shining in the dim glow of a funky lamp. I would love to have some kind of restraint, but I’m starving, and I tear into the food. I’m on my third helping when I notice Gracyn hasn’t even reached for a crumb of cheese.

“Sorry. I ended up leaving the restaurant before eating, and there was this guy in the park.” I greedily shove the stack of bread, cheese, and prosciutto in my mouth. “He definitely needed the food more than me, but this is great. Thank you.”

She nods. Just a tiny little nod as her gaze shifts from my face to the deep red wine in her glass. The time has come, and I need to answer the questions that are still hanging between us from back at the pub. The ones she asked, and immediately, I could tell that she was afraid of what I was going to say.

“You.”

Her brows pinch together as she looks up, meeting my eye. Lower lip tucked between her fingers.

“I came up here for you. For us. Because it is stupid, and you’re absolutely right. It’s stupid that I feel this way about you. That I can’t stop thinking about you. That I can’t seem to kick you out of my head. And that we haven’t even done any of the normal little things. Hell, this is the first time I’ve even been to your place. We haven’t even gone on a date, Gracyn, not a real one where we dress up and I pick you up and try to impress you with my manners.”

“You have those?” she asks, smiling. The fact that she’s trying to lighten the kind of heavy conversation is a good thing.

It’s got to be a good thing, right?

I slide off the seat and kneel in front of her, taking the still-full glass of wine from her. Setting it on the table next to her, I take her hands in mine, continuing, “Everything that can go wrong with this shit already has. We have Murphy’s Lawed the fuck out of this, and I don’t want to give up before we really get started.” I give her hands a squeeze, holding on to her as much as I am grounding myself to keep going. “That dick, Brooks … he’s—”

“Probably still trying to figure out how to use half the things that were mysteriously and anonymously delivered to his office in discreet brown packaging. Maybe even trying to unsubscribe his work email from the plethora of porn sites he suddenly started getting offers from. Or maybe not. I don’t know.” Her lip bite goes to a fully mischievous smirk before she adds, “Addie, Finn’s girlfriend? She’s a web designer … programmer … I’m not entirely sure, but the girl holds a grudge and has a skill set.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

She’s not. She’s serious and naughty and perfect.

“Mercy, woman, I think I love you.” The phrase tumbles from my mouth as naturally as if I’d said it aloud a thousand times.

And, having heard Gracyn say the three magic words in her message, the last thing I expect is for her to pull back as I go in for a kiss.

“Are you … how can you mean that?” The smirk is gone, and she is right back to pinching that lip, eyes absolutely focused in tight on the wall behind me. But not at me. She’s not looking at me. “There are just too many things that aren’t right. I mean, how is this going to work? How are we going to make any of this work? God, I don’t even have a real job anymore. Did you know that? I do the books for the pub and tend bar there a couple of nights a week. I don’t even know how long I’m going to be able to live here.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going?” I don’t want to lose her again, not when we’re this close. Not after all the missed opportunities and misunderstandings.

“I don’t know. But I’m not making anywhere near what I did before, and I am barely making my half of the rent. I talked to Bryan, and he said I could crash on his couch for a while, so I might go west. Francie did ask me to stay through St. Patrick’s Day, but after that, I just don’t know.”

This girl had herself so together, ready to take on the world, no holds barred, until all the shit went sideways with her dad and her job. Now, she’s getting her ass handed to her. It’s not okay with me, not in the least.

“Do you want to move to Cali? What do you want? Like, if you could have anything in the world, do anything, what would it be? Just for you. This is an all-about-Gracyn moment, so dream away, baby.”

The transformations on her face are remarkable. The way the process of organizing her thoughts takes root in her brows, her eyes, and even her lips.

I lean back, pushing the coffee table out of the way, and plop down on my ass in front of her. She pulls her other hand free from mine, toying with her hair, twisting it into a braid, only to let it all go and start it over again. Idle hands are not something I’m good with either, so I grab hold of her foot and dig my thumbs into the arch, kneading away at the tension.

“Okay. It’s nothing big and exciting, so you might be disappointed.”

“Nothing about your dreams could disappoint me, G.” I slide both thumbs up the ball of her left foot, rubbing and soothing, praying this relaxes her.

“If I could do anything, I’d want to stay here, in Beekman Hills. Do accounting for small businesses, McBride’s, maybe some local artists. Aidan has broached the subject, and maybe Addie will need someone soon. I like the simplicity of that—of meeting with clients over coffee or at the pub. I liked the idea of my family’s firm, from what I remembered of it as a kid, spending my summers under my grandfather’s desk. My dad has taken it in a different direction than what it was then. He’s made it more corporate-based. There’s nothing wrong with that. The firm is doing really well, but you know, even aside from the fact that his kids didn’t fall in line with his ideal, it’s not the environment, the clientele, the philosophy that I espouse. I’d rather help the young and hungry businesses find a way to make it.”

“Jesus, do you have any idea how you look when you talk about that?”

Blinking a few times, she starts to pull back into herself. She tries to tug her foot from my hands. Like hell am I going to let her crumble, not now. Not when we are back to where we started, talking about ideals.

“Your face lights up, your eyes sparkle, and you look alive. Passionate. That’s it. You look passionate, talking about your dreams.” I slide my hands up to just behind her knees and pull until her ass is on the edge of the couch, and her hands are planted in the cushions for balance. “I like you looking passionate.”