So, after dropping off some books, I strolled over and sat across from him. “Hey,” I said, feeling warm under his gaze.

“Hey,” he replied. “You look beautiful today.”

I glanced down and laughed. Along with my limited wardrobe, I was also discovering that not doing laundry decreased my clothing options even further. I was in jeans and a plain black T-shirt today, and my hair had been lucky to get a quick brushing, let alone any real styling. I’d overslept and figured beachcombing didn’t require much primping anyway.

“Liar,” I said. “I practically rolled out of bed this morning.”

“You forget that I’ve seen you in just about every state imaginable. You don’t have to have every detail primped and perfect. You’re beautiful even when you’re disheveled. Sometimes more so.”

“Hey! Are you saying I’m disheveled now?”

“No, you’re somewhere in the middle of primped and disheveled. And you still look beautiful.”

I received compliments all the time, but from him, they were golden and wonderful. Even the smallest ones. “And you,” I said, “seem to try to be disheveled.”

He ran a hand over his slightly messy hair. I think his intent was to smooth it, but he only mussed it further. “People spend fortunes on hair gel to get this look, you know.”

“And fortunes on shirts like that,” I said, gesturing to his vintage Ovaltine T-shirt. “There are collectors who’d pay a lot of money for that on eBay.”

“I am one of those people.”

I laughed. “There’s a treasure trove of T-shirts waiting for you in Vancouver, you know. I kept seeing them and thinking of you.”

With each moment that passed, I fell further and further into that electric, consuming connection between us. Love for him filled me, made me feel complete. Leaving him would have been agonizing just then, and I saw a similar sentiment for me on his face. I’d sat down, feeling guilty and conflicted over Maddie, but once I was with him . . . well, it was selfish and horrible, but I couldn’t help but stay. And honestly, it became hard for me to fret too much over her feelings because I was too caught up in my own for him. I wanted him. I wanted him to be mine. I wanted him to love me. And yet, I knew as soon as I left the table, I’d feel bad about her again. There was no way this could end well.

“Do you have any more trips scheduled up there?” He lowered his voice, the flirty look now gone and replaced by concern.

“No, I think I’m done with my international travel. I’ve just got to figure out things here now . . . or, well, they’ll be figured out for me in another day or so. Things are going to return to normal with or without Jerome soon.”