“Reg?” Ally called out from the front hall, dropping her keys into the bowl by the door. “I’m so sorry I’m late! They had us in a last-minute meeting with the head of branding, and holy hell, that guy can talk.” Kicking off her shoes, she finally caught a whiff of the saucy aroma wafting out from the kitchen. “Did you cook?”

“Delivery,” Reggie called back. “Sort of.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Do the dishes later, and you got it.”

“Deal.”

Ally smiled, taking a moment to steady herself before heading into the kitchen. Her encounter with Roscoe a few nights ago had left her raw and ragged, but she was determined not to let Reggie see her hurting. She didn’t want Reggie to worry.

More importantly, she didn’t want to have to tell Reggie how she’d singlehandedly ruined her relationship with Roscoe before it had even gotten off the ground.

A dozen times this week, Ally had picked up her phone to call him. To invite him back here so they could truly talk about everything. But a dozen times, she’d changed her mind. She’d made such a mess of things last weekend—the very least she could do was honor his request for a little space.

Roscoe would get in touch when he was ready.

And if he didn’t get in touch again? Well, that was no less than she deserved.

Breathing through the pain in her chest, Ally squared her shoulders and headed into the kitchen to see her daughter, the one person guaranteed to put a smile on her face.

But to Ally’s surprise, there wasn’t just one person sitting at the table tonight. There were two.

Ally’s heart leapt, a flush creeping over her skin. “Roscoe,” she breathed, taking in the scene. The table was set with a whole spread—salad and bread, wine, something steaming in a baking dish at the center. He’d even lit candles. “What… What is all this?”

By way of explanation, Roscoe stood up and pulled out a chair for her, his smile so tentative she couldn’t even find the dimple. “Hope you like eggplant parmesan, because my recipe is killer.”

“I love eggplant parmesan,” Ally said. It took a moment for her to process the fact that he was really there, sitting at her kitchen table with Reggie, waiting for her to join them, but eventually her lips curled into a soft smile, then finally split into a grin.

Roscoe sighed in relief. “I’m so glad you said that. I mean, it was a safe bet, considering you were a fan of the lasagna. But not everyone likes eggplant. Texture thing, I guess.”

He trailed off, and Ally just stared at him, heart hammering wildly, her insides churning with a mix of relief and guilt and love and heartache. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she still had to explain, and none of it was going to be easy.

But for now, she sat down next to him and reached for his knee under the table, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“You did all this?” she asked.

Roscoe beamed, finally giving her a peek at the dimple she’d missed so much. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to lean over and press a kiss to that very spot. “I, uh… Yeah. I guess I did,” he said, then thumbed toward Reggie. “With a little help from my favorite center forward here.”

“Yeah, I’m super helpful.” Reggie laughed, reaching for the salad bowl. “Now could you two please stop looking at each other like that? Some of us are trying to eat.”

* * *

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” Ally wrapped up the remaining eggplant and popped it into the fridge, already looking forward to reheating it for lunch tomorrow. “But I’m glad you did.”

Dinner had been wonderful, the mood lighthearted and cozy as Roscoe and Reggie regaled Ally with tales from the ice. But Reggie had excused herself halfway through the meal, dashing off to her bedroom with her laptop and a carton of ice cream.

“I might’ve had ulterior motives.” He stepped up behind her as she closed the fridge, grabbing her shoulders and gently turning her around to face him. She shivered at the contact, at the warmth in his eyes as his gaze swept her face. Leaning in close, he brushed his lips over her neck, just beneath her ear. “God, I missed you.”

“Me too.” She sighed in pleasure, her eyes fluttering closed. It would be so easy to give in to his magnetic pull. To put the arguments and the past and everything else behind them and just let herself fall right into his embrace. His kiss.

Maybe that’s what he wanted, too.

But Ally couldn’t do that now.

Gently, she pulled away, placing her palms against his chest and looking up into his eyes again. “There’s so much I have to tell you—so much I should have told you.”

“I hate how we left things the other night. How I left.” Pain and regret clouded his eyes as he reached forward to cup her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I knew it was hard for you… I should’ve given you a chance.”

“You aren’t the one who owes an apology here,” she said. “I shut down that night, and I completely shut you out. And I’m so, so sorry. If I could redo it—”

“You don’t have to. I get it.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, but Ally couldn’t help noticing he’d avoided her lips. Even now, with Reggie tucked away in her bedroom, Roscoe still hadn’t made a move to kiss her. Ally knew she didn’t deserve his kiss—not yet. Maybe not ever again. But that didn’t stop her from wanting it, the urge to slide her fingers into his silky hair and pull him to her mouth nearly overpowering her.

“Hey,” Roscoe said, smoothing his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “No frowning. The night is still young! I haven’t even given you your surprise yet.”

Ally couldn’t help but smile. “Another surprise?”

“Yes. Are you surprised?”

“Surprised that you’re surprising me again?” Ally laughed. “I guess I shouldn’t be. Hopefully I don’t need a smock for this one.”

“You might.” Roscoe’s dimple deepened, mischief glinting in his eyes. He grabbed Ally’s hand, leading her into the living room. “Now, close your eyes.”

Ally obeyed, listening intently as he opened the French doors that led into the den—the room where she’d planned to set up her home studio.

“Okay,” he said, flicking on the light. “Take a look.”

Ally opened her eyes.

The room, which had served as a catch-all of empty cardboard boxes and bubble wrap from their move, had been completely transformed. The moving supplies and trash were gone, the room freshly vacuumed.

Two easels stood at one end, blank canvases set on each one, with more canvases stacked on a low shelf behind them. The built-in bookshelves along the back wall were lined with bottles—paints of every kind, brush cleaners, paint thinners, and a few things Ally didn’t even recognize. On another shelf, glass jars held a huge assortment of professional-grade brushes, palette knives, charcoal, pencils, and any other tool she could dream of.

Ally’s eyes filled with tears, the doors of her heart blasted clear off their hinges. The gift itself was extravagant and beautiful and completely over the top in the best possible way. But more than that, she felt like Roscoe had seen her that night at Wellshire—truly seen her. Even through her own doubts, he’d seen the long lost sparks inside her and encouraged them into flames. Into fire. Into a raging inferno.

Speechless. She was utterly, completely speechless.

“Other than Candy’s Canvases,” Roscoe said, coming up to stand behind her at the easels, “all of my art knowledge comes from Bob Ross. I thought I could just walk in there and get some paint, right? Then the guy started throwing out all these names. Watercolors, gesso, pallets, fan brushes.” He laughed. “Who the hell knew there was so much to making those happy little trees?”

“Roscoe,” she whispered, still not trusting her voice. “It’s so… It’s beautiful. I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s not totally set up, obviously. But Reggie and I figured we could get it cleared out and started for you, then you could do what you want with it.”

“Reggie was in on this too?”

“Of course. But she didn’t really know what you liked, either. So I covered all the bases and got—well, everything.”

Ally smiled, tears freely leaking from her eyes. The fact that he’d done this with Reggie touched her in ways she couldn’t even describe. She loved that they had such a close bond. That they’d gone out and done this together. All for her.

“Acrylics were always my favorite,” she said softly, turning to face him again.

“Yes! I got those!” Roscoe’s eyes lit up as he rummaged through one of the shelves, picking out a few brightly colored tubes and holding them up. “Right?”

Ally nodded. “I can’t… I can’t believe you did this for me. It’s perfect. It’s…” Ally trailed off, emotion tightening her throat. “I don’t know why you’re so good to me.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because there’s so much you don’t know about me. So much I keep screwing up. I’m a mess, Roscoe. A mess. One minute I’m laughing and joking around, happier than I think I’ve ever been in my life. Then I’m having a panic attack and running away from ghosts. I can’t promise you it’s going to get better. And that’s a lot for anyone to take, let alone a man who’s only known me a couple of months.”

“Ally.” He pulled her into a hug, pressing his warm lips to the top of her head. “Being with you… You light me up. That’s all there is to it. From the moment we met, I felt it. Your passion. Your vibrancy. It comes through in everything you do—the way you love your daughter, the way you fight for her. The way you laugh. The way you paint. The way you make love. And yes, even the way you fall apart. I want to be there for all of it, Ally. Every part of it. Every part of you.”

“Even the dark parts?” Ally pulled out of his embrace, looking up into his kind, compassionate eyes. “The parts you haven’t even seen yet, because I’ve purposely kept them from you? The parts so terrifying I haven’t even found the strength to face them myself?”

Roscoe waited a beat, then nodded. “Well. Hit me with whatever you’ve got, Ally. I was upset the other night, made a huge mistake—and for that, I’m sorry as hell. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. Because when it comes down to it, I’m not going anywhere. That’s a promise.”

“We haven’t been seeing each other long enough to make that promise.”

“By whose standards? Who made that calendar? Who decides what’s long enough? We do. That’s it. And if I say I can deal with it, I mean it.”

“I don’t want someone to have to deal with me.”

“That’s not—Ally, look. You think I don’t know what it’s like to be hurt by someone you love? My ex basically used my nuts for target practice, and even then, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the damn ring until recently. We were totally incompatible from the start, but I didn’t see it. So when she betrayed me, it fucking hurt. And yeah, I spent a good long while licking my wounds, screwing around… Hell, I probably have a few pictures of her shoved in a box somewhere. It just… Finding that picture in your purse took me by surprise, and I reacted badly. Horribly. That won’t happen again.”

“It’s more than a few photos shoved in a box, Roscoe.” Ally gathered up the acrylics he’d taken off the shelf, rearranging them in color order before setting them back in their places. The room was so beautiful, the rainbow of colors calling to something deep within her, making her fingers itch to paint again. To recapture that same sense of otherworldliness she’d felt at the Wellshire. But she couldn’t do that now. Couldn’t let herself slip away into the comforts of this room, the kindness in Roscoe’s eyes, the promises on his lips.

She needed to open her heart to him. To let him see inside, shine a light on everything that terrified her.

It would change everything. Who he thought she was, how he looked at her, maybe even how he touched and kissed her.

But it was time.

Setting the final tube of paint in its place, Ally finally turned to face him again. Roscoe smiled, dimple and all, and she blew out a breath, feeling as though she was about to leap off a cliff.

Ally reached for his hand, squeezed it gently.

“Come with me,” she said. “I need to show you something.”