I nodded. “All handcrafted. I carve, sand, finish everything myself.” The pride I always felt when I talked about my craft filled my chest, helping to usher away some of the paternity-related angst this woman had interrupted.
She let out a low hum of appreciation as she eyed the bowl, peeking into the bag to see some more of the pieces I’d brought. “I think our customers would love these.” She looked up at me again, her admittedly stunning brown eyes lingering just a little too long for my comfort. “And I have to admit, I’m a sucker for a man who works with his hands.”
I didn’t react, keeping my expression polite as she tested the weight of the bowl in her hands. I knew flirting when I heard it. Normally, I might have entertained it. Once upon a time, I would have.
But not now. This woman held no interest for me when all I could think about was Allie.
“I can leave some pieces on consignment if your boss wants to see how they sell,” I said instead, steering the conversation back to business. “Or we can discuss wholesale rates.”
The woman tilted her head, lips pursed in something close to disappointment. “That sounds like a conversation for my boss, to be honest. But between you and me? I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding customers.”
She wasn’t just talking about my art, I knew.
I ignored it.
It wasn’t just that I wasn’t interested—it was that I couldn’t be. I was already halfway gone for a woman who had no reason to pick me.
Allie had choices. Two other men besides me, both of them compelling in ways I couldn’t compete with. Luca was energetic, carefree, endlessly good-hearted. Gavin was all fire and confidence, all sharp wit and smirking charm. I was…what? The quiet one? The brooding one?
Maybe, I thought suddenly, she wouldn’t have to choose at all. Maybe our planned group date wasn’t just a convenient solution to a right-now problem, but a microcosm of what could be.
The thought hit like a jolt of electricity. Not just a passing musing, but a genuine, real possibility. There were relationships like that in the world. Hell, back in LA, polyamory was almost yesterday’s news. And the kind of arrangement I could suddenly see, Gavin, Luca, and I sharing Allie as friends, while not common, certainly was not unheard of. It wasn’t like the four of us weren’t already tangled together forever regardless. We’d all taken her to bed that night in Vegas with hardly a second to consider if it might make things weird, and somehow, it hadn’t changed a damn thing in our friendship. Now, I almost felt closer to my friends, knowing we all cared about the same woman. That we all wanted to keep her safe. To keep her.
But this wasn’t how I’d ever pictured myself. I’d always imagined monogamy, one person to build a life around, a wife and kids. I’d tried to build it once before, even bought the damn ring. Jordyn had made it clear I wasn’t what she wanted, and the thought of setting myself up for another rejection?—
I stopped that train of thought before it could spiral.
Allie wasn’t Jordyn. And this wasn’t a marriage proposal. Besides, Allie was an artist too, and I couldn’t see her ever worrying about who was “husband material.” Years had passed since my engagement had ended, damn it, and I was better now. No longer the heartbroken kid I’d been on that ill-advised guys’ trip.
But this connection Allie and I shared, it wassomething. Something that felt big and earth-shattering, like proposing marriage had been all those years ago. And I knew now that I needed to see where it led.
I packed up the rest of my pieces after finalizing the details with the woman. As I stepped outside, the sun had dipped lower, washing the street in early evening gold.
I pulled out my phone and opened a new message to the girl of my dreams.
Cade:You free tonight?
A moment passed before the three dots appeared, and then a message bubble.
Allie:I’m working. Why?
I ignored her question, volleying back with my own.
Cade:Alright. When do you get off?
A longer pause this time. My stomach tightened.
Allie:I’m done here at 10.
That was all I needed.
I didn’t text back. Instead, I pocketed my phone and started outside back to the car. If I timed it right, I could get back to the house, make myself a little more presentable, and then make it to the diner just in time to surprise her. It wasn’t a plan—it was an impulse. But it felt right.
I wasn’t good at chasing. I never had been, even before the heartbreak I thought had been the end of all heartbreaks for me. But for Allie, I’d learn.
26
ALLIE
