A corner of her mouth tips up slightly, then falls. Her eyes drop with it, staring into space again. “Do you think I can change? Do you think I can ever publish books and be happy at the same time?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“You just need a little help. You’re overwhelmed. Take it one thing at a time.”

She seems to think for a moment, then nods as her blue eyes meet mine again. “What’s first?”

“Tacos,” I say. “Then a bath.”

“I am hungry. And dirty.” There’s that little smile again. A squeezing sensation in my chest accompanies it.

I stand and offer her my hand to help her up. She takes it, and though she’s a little shaky on her feet, she interlaces our fingers and squeezes, looking up at me with those devastating eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Without thinking, I lean in to kiss her forehead. When I realize what I’ve done, I pull back, afraid she’s going to get skittish and order me to leave. But the smile she flashes up at me is wide and genuine and heartbreakingly gorgeous.

I never thought I’d see that smile again, but now that I have, there’s no way I can let her walk out of my life a second time.

Chapter 14

Ryan

Seven Years Ago

“Tacos?” Scarlett arches a dark eyebrow in my direction. She glances warily at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant in front of us. “I know we’ve been seeing each other for a few months now, but I was hoping you’d try to impress me for a little while longer.”

I put a hand over my heart in mock offense. “How dare you. Tacos are the perfect food.”

She purses her lips skeptically. “Perfect is a pretty strong word for what is essentially a sandwich.”

“Take it back this instant,” I tease. “A measly sandwich has nothing on a taco. There are so many options! Crispy or soft, any meat or vegetarian filling you want, beans, cheese, salsas, guacamole, sour cream. Should I go on?”

“Sour cream is disgusting,” she counters.

I tip my head back and forth, thinking. “I’ll give you that one.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I should be jealous of your relationship with this particular food item,” she says sardonically.

“You joke, but I take my tacos very seriously.”

“I can see that.”

Stepping forward, I hold the door open for her and motion for her to go inside. “Reserve your judgment until you try them, okay? At the very least, they’ll be easy to take where we’re going.”