I turn to take everything in and see that the tablecloths are now being laid on the tables. Wanting it to feel more like a cocktail party than a formal event, but still wanting to give guests a place to sit, we decided on having smaller tables scattered throughout the room with no seating arrangement. It was the best compromise we could come up with and we’re hoping that it invites an atmosphere of community and getting to know one another.

I head in the direction of the acrylic chairs that are stacked in the corner to start placing them around the tables when I see Quinton headed my way with his eyes directly on me.

Well crap.

I guess there’s no way to avoid this conversation any longer.

“Hey.” My awkward wave reveals the killer butterflies attacking my nervous system. “Wanna come talk with me real fast?”

He nods without answering and follows me as I make my way to Jen’s office. She told me to take it over if I needed any privacy and while I thought I wouldn’t, it’s coming in handy now.

I hold the door open for him, turning the lock as soon as he’s in the room. The last thing I need is another person hearing all of my business.

“The way I behaved at Stanley’s was unacceptable.” I opt out of small talk and dive right in. I keep my eyes on him, even though the urge to inspect Jen’s ceiling instead is really calling me. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this about me yet, but sometimes I overreact to things. You caught me in a very raw, very private moment. I don’t like people seeing me like that, especially someone I work with. I took my hurt out on you and I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen just a fraction. I’m sure he never thought I would dole out an apology. But I’m an adult, so I own my mistakes . . . occasionally.

“Um, thank you.” He drags his fingers through his thick beard and lets out a deep sigh. Which—inappropriately—makes me want to reach out and touch it as well. As bumpy as our time has been together, I still can’t pretend like he doesn’t affect me. He’s infuriating, but he’s passionate and so flipping pretty it hurts my eyes. “I wanted to apologize to you too.”

My hair slaps me in the face with how hard my head jerks back. “Apologize to me for what?”

“Donny.” He says the name like it should explain everything. And it does.

“Oh.” I wave off his apology. “No need.”

By the end of the day I couldn’t help but like Donny. He’s nuts and probably needs intense therapy, but honestly? Same.

Plus, he really does seem to care about Quinton and it was almost endearing.