chapter thirty-one
RILES
How could I be so stupid?
Hands trembling, heart painfully pounding, I flee Riley’s store and hail a cab, tears stinging my eyes as I open the door and slide onto the back seat. “Manhattan, please.”
“Manhattan?” The driver turns to face me, his expression dumbfounded.
“Yes.”
“There’s a train station just around the cor—”
“I don’t want to catch the train. I just want…. Can you take me or not?”
“Of course. But it’ll cost—”
“I don’t care what it costs!”
“Okay.” He turns back to his steering wheel, flicks the turn signal, and pulls away from the sidewalk. “Heading home?”
“Yes.”
Home. I stare at the quaint stores as we pass them by, my mind in disarray.
Before seeing Riley with who I’m assuming was Krystal, I’d been ready to call Buxtonville home.
To call him home. A gigantic leap of madness.
But the way the two of them embraced, and how he held her to him, it’s clear Buxtonville is their home and not mine.
My cell rings beside me, catapulting my pulse to soaring heights, so I slip my hand into my bag, pull it out, and look down through my tear-stained vision at Riley’s name and the photo of us at Qaqortok on my screen.
He must’ve seen me leave. Shit!
I’m utterly mortified, and the way I’m looking at him in the picture—with lovesick Bambi eyes—is a serrated knife slicing my heart.
I hit Decline and wipe my face, exhaling a deep, excruciating breath. I would’ve liked it here with him. Loved it, even. Peaceful, serene, the opposite of NYC. It was the change my life needed. The change I always dreamed I could achieve one day.
“Are you okay, miss?” the driver asks as we pull to a stop at a set of traffic lights, his concerned eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror.
“Yes.” I sniff and wipe my face again. “I’m fine.”
Nodding, he slowly taps his finger on the steering wheel, the lyrics of “Risk” by Gracie Abrams humming softly from the speakers.
I home in on the tune, almost laughing at the irony, because I was here, risking everything to be with Riley.
But jumping in the deep end could lead to drowning, and that’s exactly what it felt like as my lungs filled with sorrow.
My stomach tightens as memories of us cuddling at the Blue Lagoon, kissing under the Northern Lights, and strolling the streets of Paris flicker into my mind.
How it felt to be in his arms, laughing and holding his hand.
The romantic sunsets. His determination.
The ocean breeze whispering across our faces.
None of those moments felt fake, because they weren’t. They were real. Are real.
What if what I just saw wasn’t what it looked like?
A shiver runs the length of my spine, my damp cheeks trembling.
What if I’m overreacting?
I turn in my seat and look out the rear window along the street, a sliver of hope threading my heart back together and once again filling my lungs with air.
Should I go back? Should I let him explain?
The threading pauses.
But what if there’s no explanation? What if he has decided to give Krystal another chance? What if he and I were only a vacation mix-up?
As if my mother is sitting beside me, her soothing voice caresses my ear. “You only live once, Smiley Riley. Take a leap. Fall in love.”
“I am in love, Mom,” I whisper back, knowing it’s true. I can feel it to my core. Every time his eyes crinkle. Every time he rubs his beard. Every time our bodies touch and his soul dances with mine.
“I love him,” I blurt.
“Did you say something?”
My eyes once again meet my driver’s in his rearview mirror.
What am I doing? Why am I running away?
“I love him,” I blurt again.
“Who?”
“Peanut butter!”
The light turns green, and my driver accelerates.
“Stop!” I shout, feeling as if I’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning.
“What?”
“Please. Stop. Pull over!”
He swerves the cab to a halt, brakes screeching, car horns blaring.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I explain, wrenching open the door and tossing him a fifty. “Sorry.”
“Wh-what about your change?”
“Keep it.”
Slamming the door, I turn on my heel and…
run. I run back along the street, lungs burning a hole in my chest, my bag slipping from my shoulder, my mind unmistakably sound yet filled with utter chaos.
But that’s what love is, chaos among clarity.
A tornado pirouetting around your heart.
Love is a battlefield… according to Mom and Pat Benatar.
It’s when you fight until you can’t breathe, think, or do.
It’s the end, and the beginning.
Clasping my bag, I hoist it back onto my shoulder when a “For Lease” sign in a shop window stops me in my tracks. “This is the one,” I rasp out, stepping back and taking in a much-needed breath.
I shade the sun from my eyes, admiring the Victorian-style facade, the same one I’d seen in my Google search. I was going to show Riley after I filled him in on everything that’s happened in the hopes he’d want me to move here too.
“It’s perfect!” I say, exhaling just as Riley skids around the corner and comes to a stop when he sees me, his chest heaving, sweat dampening his brow.
“Riles, I—”
I stare at him, shocked. “What are you doing?”
He bends at the waist and rests his hands on his knees. “What are you doing?”
I smile. “I asked you first.”
Holding up one finger, he takes a deep breath, then says, “I’m chasing after you. What does it look like?”
“So you were planning to run all the way to Manhattan?”
“If I had to, yes.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”
He does the same. “You know why.”
“Do I?”
Standing straight again, he cocks his head, his expression condescending. “Because I love you, Riles Wilson. And I’ll run to the ends of this earth just so we can be together.”
My heart skips a beat. “You love me?”
He takes a step forward. “Yes.”
“And what about Krystal?”
“I was merely giving her the divorce papers. We hugged. We said goodbye. That’s all it was.”
Taking a step closer to him, a flush of remorse warms my cheeks. “I know. It just took me a couple of minutes to realize that.”
He grips his hair, eyes flaring with exasperation, as if those couple of minutes were the longest of his life.
I burst into laughter.
“You think this is funny?” he prompts.
“Yes. Kind of.”
“Jesus Christ, Riles!”
I laugh again.
“Stop it.” He chuckles. “I thought I’d lost you.”
My laughter dies off, my throat thick as I swallow. “I love you too, Riley Wilson.”
Our eyes lock, and he strides toward me until our chests collide, his mouth feverish, my hands wild within his hair. Riley lifts me off the ground, twirling me in a circle, his grip tight, mine tighter.
“Don’t do that again,” he says between plying kisses to my face. “Don’t run without talking first. Promise me.”
I rest my forehead against his. “I won’t. And anyway, where would I run to?”
“Back to Manhattan, of course.”
“Yeaaah… about that. I want to show you something.”
His brows draw together, and he sets me on my feet, so I link my hand in his and face the shop.
“What do you think?” I ask.
He stares at the empty building. “I think it’s a vacant shop.”
“I think it’s perfect for my small press.”
Riley snaps his head to me, his eyes crinkling, his smile all teeth. “Here? In Buxtonville?”
I swing our arms. “Why not?”
“But—” He runs his free hand through his hair. “—what about Georgia?”
“I told her to stick my job up her ass.”
He coughs, then chokes out, “You did?”
I smirk. “You seem shocked, Riley.”
“I am.” He blinks a few times. “I’m… I’m speechless.”
“Happy speechless? Or I-don’t-want-you-to-move-here-so-soon speechless? Because if you’re not ready for that, I underst—”
“Are you shitting me? Of course I want you to move here. I couldn’t think of anything more perfect.”
“Really? Because if this is all too much, I—”
“Yes! Really!” He lifts me up and twirls us in a circle again. “Is the Pope a religious fuck?”
“Riley!” I laugh and kiss his lips, soft, slow, and with purpose. “We really need to stop speaking about the Pope like that. We’ll go to hell.”
“Hell is the last thing on my mind right now. You’re here… in my arms… where you belong. To hell with hell.” He kisses me again, and I lose myself to everything that is him. His smell, his warmth, his undeniable love.
“Mommy, why is Uncle Riley kissing that lady?”
Our heads snap to where an adorable little girl is holding her mother’s hand.
“Because that’s Riles, sweetie,” the woman says, grinning from ear to ear. “Uncle Riley’s girlfriend.”
I push back and wriggle free of his grip, nervously fixing my hair as Poppy giggles and twists from side to side.
“What are you doing?” Riley asks his sister.
“Chasing after you.”
“Who’s minding the shop?”
“Mom. Who else?” She gives him a duh-face, steps up to us, and shoves his shoulder. “Stop being rude. Introduce us.”
Amused, I offer my hand. “Hi, Veronica. Sorry about before.”
Riley frowns. “What happened before?”
I wince apologetically. “I kinda bumped into her when I left the shop.”
“I’m Poppy!” his niece says, racing her mother to shake my hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Bending over, I smile and lightly grip her little fingers with mine. “Pleased to meet you too.”
She animatedly wrenches my arm down and then up, down and then up again, her bracelets jingling on her wrist.
“Those are pretty,” I say, gesturing to them. “I had one just like it.’
“What do you mean had?” Riley asks.
I side-eye him. “I was mugged last night at gunpoint, and he stole my—”
“You were what?”
I swish my hand at him. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It damn well does matter.” He reaches down and tips my chin so that I’m looking up at him. “Riles? What the hell happened?”
As I’m about to explain, Poppy pushes her uncle’s hand away and replaces it with hers, turning my head back in her direction. She then removes her purple bracelet and threads it onto my wrist.
My jaw drops.
My heart stops.
“For me?” I ask, blinking back tears.
She nods.
I clasp her tiny fingers in mine. “Thank you, Poppy. That’s very kind of you.”
“Nanna says kindness is rewarded, so what’s my reward?”
I burst into laughter, as do Riley and Veronica.
“How about ice cream?” Veronica offers. “Come on, little miss. Let’s visit Mrs. Parberry.”
Sliding her hands from mine, she retakes her mother’s and skips off.
“She’s adorable,” I say, sighing. “Why on earth would you roofie her?”
“Riles—”
“Georgia deserved roofieing. That little sweetheart doesn’t.”
“Riles—”
Standing up again, I continue ignoring him. “You better get back to the shop. I’m going to the realtor.”
He snags my arm and tugs me to him, fastening my hands behind my back. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happened last night. Were you hurt? Are you okay?”
I chew my lip. “I’m fine—at least, I am now. He didn’t hurt me. He just stole my bag and fled.”
A muscle in his face twitches.
“I promise. He just scared me. That’s it.”
“And that’s why you want to move here?”
“No! Not entirely.” I shrug free of my confinement and drape my arms around his neck. “I’ll admit I don’t feel safe on my own in that apartment anymore, but I want to move here to be closer to you. To spend more time together. To—”
He seals my lips with a kiss, the world melting away as our mouths become one. Love, light, and an insurmountable sensation of belonging surges through my body, and I know I’m where I’m meant to be—here, with him.
“Good,” he says, pulling back. “Because I promised you you’re not alone, and I meant it. From now on, it’s you and me, me and you.” He waggles his brows. “Team R ‘n’ R.”
I bury my face in his chest. “That team name is so lame.”
“Come on,” he says, chuckling as he kisses my head and slides his hand into mine. “I’ll introduce you to Buxtonville’s realtor.”
I squeal. “I’m so excited!”
“She’s excited too.”
“Who… the realtor?”
Side-eyeing me, he rubs his beard. “Yep.”
“But how do you know that?”
“Because she’s my mother.”
“Oh!”
Peanut butter!