“If you’re comfortable with it. It would bring people in, and honestly, the vibe here is exactly what I’m looking for. Cozy, authentic, real.”
“Yes,” I blurt out. “Yes, absolutely, of course!”
Izzy’s smile is radiant. “Perfect! I’ll have my team coordinate the details with you.” She takes another sip of her latte. “Seriously, this is so good. I wasn’t lying about coming back.”
My phone buzzes. Then buzzes again. And again.
Mika picks it up from where I’d left it by the register. “Viv. Your Instagram. You’re getting...a lot of notifications.”
I look at the screen. Dozens of new followers. Comments pouring in. People tagging friends, saying they’re coming by.
“Oh my God,” I breathe.
“Give it an hour,” Izzy smiles. “It’ll really pick up then. I hope this helps! And I’ll definitely be back.”
I turn to Owen, who’s been standing quietly to the side, watching this unfold. “You did this. While I thought you’d disappeared, you were doing this.”
“I wanted to fix it,” he says simply. “The Aurora Coffee problem. I couldn’t stand the thought of you losing something you’d worked so hard to build.”
The emotion hits me like a wave. “Owen—”
“I’m sorry I disappeared,” he says, voice low. “I never stopped thinking about you or trying to help.”
Izzy glances between us with obvious amusement. “I’m going to go sit over there and enjoy this amazing coffee while you two talk. Mika, why don’t you join me?”
Mika looks like she might faint, but follows Izzy to a corner table.
I reach for Owen’s hand. “Thank you. For not giving up even when I thought you had.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m sorry I hurt you. I promise to communicate better,” he says, threading his fingers through mine. “I want a future with you, Vivian.”
CHAPTER 9
OWEN
The second the door closes behind us when we arrive at her apartment, Vivian turns to face me. Not to kiss me—just to look at me. Really look at me, like she’s making sure I’m not running.
“You’re really here,” she says softly.
“I’m not running.” I cup her face in both hands, feeling the warmth of her skin and the tremor of her breath against my palms. For a second, the enormity of what I almost lost punches through me. “I’m sorry I made you doubt that. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Her hands come up to cover mine. Her thumbs stroke the insides of my wrists as if anchoring me. “Owen, I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“If you get scared again—about us, about your work, about anything—you talk to me. You don’t disappear. Even if it’s hard, even if you think you’re protecting me, you stay and we figure it out together.”
The words lodge in my throat. This is the commitment I’ve been avoiding my whole adult life. And with Vivian looking at me like this, I realize I want it more than I’ve wanted anything. With a glimpse of what life with Vivian could look like, I can no longer imagine continuing on the lonely life I’ve been leading. It took Vivian to make me see what was possible.
“I promise,” I say. My voice is rough but sure. “I’ll talk to you. I’ll stay.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me, and this time it’s not desperate or frantic. It’s a promise of its own. I kiss her slowly, thoroughly, pouring everything I couldn’t say this past week into the press of my mouth against hers. The kiss deepens and softens at the same time, like breathing after holding my breath for too long.
When we break apart, her eyes are bright. “Take me to bed.”
We make our way to her bedroom, kissing like teenagers as we stumble down the short hallway. For a moment, we stand by her bed, foreheads touching, breathing each other in. Then we undress each other with deliberate care. No frantic tearing at clothes this time. I slide her sweater up slowly, savoring the way her skin pebbles in the cool air. She tugs at my shirt, palms gliding over my chest as it comes off. Each movement is slow and lingering.
When we’re both naked, I pull her onto the bed with me, positioning us so we’re face to face, her body stretched out alongside mine. My fingertips drift over her hip and up her waist, relishing the curves of her womanly body, the rise and fall of her breathing.
