After everything she’d been through, to get fired. Fired and dumped. The knowledge that I’d added to her pain made me heartsick. But the thought of seeing her didn’t make me feel much better. And all of it left me wishing I could roll everything back, put things where they used to be. I wished for the simple comfort of her, that elemental thread that bound us. But it had been stretched to its limit, tight and creaking and ready to snap. I tried to tell myself it was broken, but that was a lie. I still felt that thread and was exhausted from fighting the urge to tug, to pull her back to me.

But this was the right thing, the inevitable thing. This was where I’d known it would end.

It didn’t stop me from worrying about her all morning, wondering what had happened when she walked through the doors of Archer. Wondering if Addison had gotten her licks in before, during, or after she’d gotten fired. Had they humiliated her even more? Had Natasha called for her head? Either way, they’d delivered. Of that, I was certain.

It was my fault. I shouldn’t have hit that son of a bitch. Or at least not there, in the middle of her event. But the location was the only thing I regretted. The punch itself was perhaps the most satisfying thing I’d ever done, besides being with Lila.

I was on my knees in the dirt, a tall bucket at my side brimming with mums in shades of fall. Mustard yellow, deep amber, rich crimson. Mindlessly, my hands moved, snipping where I knew to snip, filling the bucket with my thoughts circling about Lila. Maybe Ivy would know. I could ask her.

That, at least, gave me a sliver of hope.

My eyes shot up, looking for Lila when the door to the greenhouse opened.

This time, they found their mark.

She was beautiful, too beautiful, a thing made perfect by nature and gilded with Armani and Louboutin. Her eyes, cool and gray, were touched with hurt and hope.

I knew that feeling. I knew it too well.

Chest aching with the same pain that lived in the lines of her face, I rose.

She slowed as she approached, and for a moment, we stood there, breathing the same air, cataloging the sight of each other as if it were the first time and the last.

I tried to be mad, tried to remember all the ways she’d hurt me, all the reasons why we couldn’t. Why we shouldn’t. But I couldn’t think of a single one.

“Are you all right?” was all I could think to say, the thing I wanted most to know.

A smile, small and tinged with regret. “I will be.”

“I’m sorry, Lila. I’m so sorry you lost your job over this.”