Sometimes I feel like I barely know him, but other times I watch him staring down puzzles at one of the tables, or poring over blueprints, or just getting lost in thought, and I know—I know that he needs something bigger in life.
That he’s hurt right now. That the people who shouldn’t have let him down in his home life, in his work life, in his school life have all failed him.
He was in his mid-twenties when he invented a better cereal bag.
There is so much more that this man can do with his life. So many more contributions to the greater good of the entire world.
If only people would stop hurting him.
I want to be that person.
I want to be that person who shows him that there are people who want the best for him.
And for the first time in my life, I understand why people fall in love. Why they take the chance. Why it’s worth the risk.
I’ve spent my life mastering gossip to make the world a better place.
What if loving someone makes the world a better place?
“Sabrina.”
“Please go. I don’t want you to see me like this.” I don’t want you to be nice because that will be the final straw to make me believe in things that still terrify me.
He takes one of my hands in his, his long fingers wrapping around the back of my hand, his thumb brushing my skin, and I realize he’s not wearing a coat.
No coat. No gloves. No hat.
He didn’t stop to grab any of it before following me out here.
But his hand is warm, and his grip is firm in the best way, and just holding his hand is making my panic recede and my heart race for other reasons.
My nipples go erect.
My vagina finally pushes herself out of the steel box I’ve locked her in the past few weeks.
“He ultimately won’t care what you do to it,” I whisper. “Even if he loved parts of the café, this won’t hurt him the way you want it to.”
“He hurt you,” he says.
“He hurt Emma. He didn’t hurt me. He pissed me off.”
“He hurt you.”
“I’d have to care about him and his opinions for him to hurt me.”
“Sabrina.”
I want to look at him, but I’m terrified of what I’ll see.
Kindness.
Empathy.
Understanding.
Grey, Super Vengeance Man, determined to tear my cousin limb from limb for putting my family’s café in danger.
Super Vengeance Man showing up to avenge my injury would be the worst.
The absolute worst.
“Please just tell me you hate me for calling your grandmother and that I’m fired and that you’re buying all of downtown so that if I never want to see you again, I’ll have to move.”
“Why do you want me to hate you?”
“Because I like you too much and that’s a bigger kind of scary than the size of my anger at Chandler.”
He doesn’t answer.
Not with words. But with his hands, he brushes his thumb over the skin on the back of my hand. His other hand oh-so-gently pushes my hair back over my shoulder, and then his fingers twist in my curls.
My breath catches. It feels like fairies are dancing across my scalp, little bits of pleasure radiating over my skin.
He lifts my hand to his mouth and presses his lips to my palm, and my stomach drops to sit on my thighs.
“I was ready to hire a private detective to track you down after Hawaii.” His voice is husky, deeper, his words slower, like the confession weighs more than his vocal cords can handle. “Even after you disappeared. Even with the awkward flashing of the maid and the brush-off note. You were magic. You were this magical, sparkling, determined angel of a woman and I wanted to find what was wrong and fix it. And now I’m what’s wrong.”
“You are not what’s wrong.”
“I am. Now I’m hurting you.”
“Your idea—what you want to do—it’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s new. The people here will love it in their own way.”
“You won’t.”
“I will. I’ll adapt. I’ll find a new purpose. It’s not about Bean & Nugget. It’s about Snaggletooth Creek. It’s about my community. I can—I can find it still. I just need to remember that.”
“Sabrina.” He kisses my palm again, his hot lips against my skin making my vagina ache.
“Please go back inside.”
“That’s what you want?”
“No.” Dammit.
I open my mouth to correct myself, to say what I should say, even if it’s a lie, but before a single sound can escape my lips, he’s brushing his against them.