I nod. “Yeah.” I let out a breath. “And my sisters. I feel so guilty for leaving.”

“And Frank?” he asks.

“Him too. I mailed him back the ring, but I had to sign some papers to transfer the trailer back to him.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “How was that?”

“Frank’s a good man. It was fine. I hope he finds someone.”

“That person still isn’t you?” he asks.

“That person was never me.”

Our gazes lock. I want to tell him how much I miss him, that he came to mean more to me in a few short weeks than Frank ever did.

“I heard about the party tomorrow night,” I say. I want to tell him I’m proud of him, but something stops me. “It’s a great idea.”

“If anyone shows,” he says. He nods in the direction of the staff housing block and we begin to walk.

“Of course they’ll show. This town loves you. They want to support you.”

Hope brightens his face. I want to press my palm to his cheek and tell him everything is going to be okay. I’ve never felt so certain that things are going to work out.

“Are you working tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I’ve been moved into Blossom and events.” We reach the door to my building and stop to face each other.

He nods. “Good. Are you happy?”

My heart clenches. Does he mean with my job? Or does he mean without him?

“Could we find some time to talk?” I ask without thinking. I just don’t want this to be the last conversation we have. I’m not quite sure what I want to say. But I know there are things that need to be said.

“Now?” he says, glancing around.

I shake my head. Seeing him has stirred something in me. I need to figure out what before we talk. “No. Maybe… after the party? We could meet in town.”

He nods, but he’s uncertain. “We can do that.”

“Breakfast on Tuesday?” I suggest. I don’t start work until midday. “Eight?”

He searches my eyes but remains quiet. Voices from behind us interrupt and he hands me my bag. “Eight at the diner.”

He goes to leave and I catch his arm, a familiar buzz passing between us. We lock eyes. The chemistry we had is still there. But now it’s something more.

“Thank you for the card,” I say. It was kind and thoughtful and asked nothing of me. It just said he was thinking of me. “It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

“Oh, Rosey,” he says, his tone full of sadness.

My stomach lilts at the way he says my name. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m so lucky, Byron.” Lucky to know him. Lucky he’s standing right in front of me.