Chapter 2
Upstairs, I tossed his coat on the bed and sprinted to the bathroom. The mirror confirmed the horror show. Cheeks flushed bright red, eyes wide and frantic, orange dust still on my lip.
"Get it together," I hissed.
I washed my face, scouring off the cheese dust. Ripped the hair tie out and ran a brush through the tangles until it looked intentionally messy, not accidental. I couldn't find my good clothes fast enough, so I grabbed a silk robe—the one I used for "author branding" photos—and tied it tight.
Better. Marginally.
I took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out.
He’s just an ex. A hot ex. A very hot ex who is currently standing in my living room.
I walked back down.
Garner was in the living room, pacing. He looked out of place among my knick-knacks and the glowing Christmas tree. Too big. Too vibrant. He stopped when he saw me, his eyes tracking the movement of the silk against my legs.
My skin prickled.
"So," I said, leaning against the doorframe for support. "You're back."
"I'm back."
"For how long?"
"Don't know yet." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Depends."
"On what?"
He didn't answer that. Instead, he looked at the TV, where the credits were rolling on the Hallmark movie. "Still watching the sappy stuff, huh?"
"It’s research."
"Right. Research." He smiled, and it was that same crooked grin that used to make me do stupid things like cut class and sneak out of windows. "I missed this place. Appleridge. It’s quiet."
"It's boring," I corrected.
"Boring is good. Boring is… stable." He looked tired suddenly. The confidence cracked, revealing something fragile underneath. "My parents are in France for the holidays. Some vineyard tour. I didn't want to go."
"So you came here?"
"I had nowhere else to go, Maggie." He looked me dead in the eye. "I couldn't be alone. Not tonight."
My heart, the traitor, melted. Just turned to mush right there in my chest.
He was lonely. He was seeking comfort. And he came to me.
"I'm glad you came," I said softy. And I meant it. God help me, I meant it.
He took a step closer. The air in the room got thinner. "Are you?"
"Yes."
I wanted to cross the gap. I wanted to wrap my arms around that thick waist and bury my face in his sweater and pretend the last few years never happened. I wanted to drag him to the rug and kiss him until we both forgot our names.
I’d never admit it to anyone, but I never stopped loving Garner. Not really. He was the one who got away. The blueprint every fictional hero in my books was based on.
He took another step. He was close enough to touch now. His eyes were searching mine, asking a question I desperately wanted to answer with a *yes*.
But I couldn't.
Because there was one tiny, little, catastrophic detail I hadn't mentioned yet.
I was engaged to someone else.