“On a more serious note,” she continues, sincerity coating her words, “you should go on a date with the guy. Just the two of you. No Tate. No distractions. See if there’s still something real there.”
I press my lips together, considering it. “That’s not a bad idea.”
She gives me a knowing look. “I’ve watched you build this business from the ground up, but I’ve never seen you quite as happy as you are when that disgustingly handsome Corbin Banks walks through the door.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s not wrong.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I mutter, “What if we screw it up again?”
Connie hitches a shoulder. “Better to try again than to live with regrets.”
“You’re making my mental pros and cons list way too easy,” I tell her.
“That’s what I’m here for,” she teases. Then, as if reading my mind, she adds, “Why don’t you take the rest of the evening off? Sarge and I can close up. Go home, clear your head.”
“There’s a painting I’d like to finish,” I admit.
“Then go!” She shoos me with both hands. “I’ve got this.”
I glance toward the kitchen, where Sarge has disappeared, then back at Connie. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” she grins. “Now, go figure out your life, Jules.”
I shake my head, laughing despite myself, but I don’t argue. Maybe some time alone with my thoughts—away from the coffee shop, away from everyone else—will help me figure out what I really want.
***
The paintbrush skims across the canvas, the watercolors bleeding together in soft, fluid strokes. Blues, greens, and browns. Pine trees. Tall and sturdy, like Corbin. They don’t sway or bend easily. They stand strong against the elements—shielding against the summer heat, bearing the weight of thick snow, enduring raindrops the size of half-dollars.
Everything reminds me of Corbin.
One date.
We can try one date. It’s not enough to get my heart broken again. Not enough to let my hopes climb too high. But it’s enough to see if there’s something still there—something more than just the undeniable attraction simmering between us. Because I know it’s not just me. He feels it, too.
It’s why I ended up in his bed. Why my body reacts to him like a magnet to steel. I can deny it all I want, but Corbin has always been my favorite place. The only place that’s ever really felt like home.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t put myself out there. Why dating has never felt… right. No one else has ever measured up to him.
I know how that sounds.
But what if you do find your soulmate at nineteen? What if there is no one else for you, no matter how far and wide you search?
And yet… what if we get it wrong again?
What if I can’t be what he needs? Worse. What if Icanbe what he needs, but he can’t be what I need?
And Tate.
It always comes back to him, doesn’t it? His happiness. His stability. I don’t want to give him false hope. But helights upwhen we’re all together. Maybe we don’t have to tell him anything yet. Maybe we can figure things out quietly, away from his watchful eyes.
I just hate keeping secrets. Even when it’s for the right reasons.
One date.
We can try one date.
Hell, we might sit across from each other and realize that the divorce was the right choice all along. That we were always destined to be somethingalmost, but neverenough.
