She seemed pleased with that answer, picking up her own phone and typing furiously. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got a book club already mobilized and ready to help. And you know they just adore a happily ever after.”

38. Dean

Thirty-Eight

Dean

I knocked on Tabitha’s door, then shoved my hands into my pockets to keep them still. There was some bit of commotion in the lot to my right. I could hear music and people laughing. I ignored it the way I’d ignored every other distraction today—Rowan’s calls, my parents stopping by, Harry’s pissed-off emails. I’d woken up this morning without the sweet warmth of Tabitha’s body draped over mine, and everything disappeared except my one goal. It was as if I’d stepped back into the ring the first few seconds after the gong went off, when every sound went silent and every person vanished except the one across from me.

I’d been much less of a machine since Tabitha had tumbled into my lap. But I didn’t mind harnessing some of that old focus so I could do what she did all the time. Leap without looking. To give in to what I wanted, without holding back.

The door opened. Tabitha stood there, barefoot, in a short white summer dress. Her brown eyes landed on mine, pink lips curving into a pretty smile.

She was everything that I ever wanted.

Those eyes widened. “Dean.”

“Hi.”

“What are you…” She glanced nervously over at the lot. “Sorry, I thought you’d be with Rowan today?”

I arched an eyebrow. “He called me a few times, but I didn’t pick up. I was busy. Working on things to show you.” I looked down at the ground. Took a step closer and let my gaze rise to hers again. “Can I come in?”

She blinked at me, looking stunned. Until she stepped back inside and said, “Of course” in a shaky voice.

I stepped past her, much too aware of her body heat. The freckles on her bare shoulders. I carefully slid two pieces of paper from my pocket and sat on the edge of her couch. I saw her peek out the front curtains before refocusing on me.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting you.” She ran a hand through her red hair. My fingers ached to touch her there. She sat down next to me, our bodies apart, eyes glued together. A flush rose up her neck. I wondered if she was replaying us here yesterday. The casual way I’d shrugged everything off. As if she’d been a temporary fascination, when nothing could have been further from the truth.