“Yes. Thank you.”
He takes my duffel, and I force myself not to look back as I climb into the big SUV.
But my heart isn’t having it, and I turn my head at the last minute—one final glimpse of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.
Standing in the doorway of her house, one hand on her heart.
And without meaning to, I roll down the window and mimic the motion.
Then we pull down the street, and she disappears from view.
Fuck.
I honestly didn’t expect leaving to be quite this hard.
Chapter 12
Summer
Staying busy the rest of the day kept me from missing Tate too much but the moment I walk into the diner, I’m assaulted by Dolly and Sylvie.
“I want every detail,” Dolly whispers.
I laugh. “That might cross a lot of boundaries.”
“Every. Detail.” Sylvie puts her hands on her hips, eyeing me over the top of her reading glasses.
“He was…wonderful. Sweet, thoughtful—he even met Mom and entertained everyone at the nursing home.”
Dolly sighs dramatically. “Why didn’t you lock that boy in the basement and never let him leave?”
“Yeah, that’s how you get a guy to fall in love with you,” I say, putting down the last of the pies I’ve brought in.
“That’s a lot of pie,” Sylvie says, arching her brows. “More than usual—how come?”
“It goes a lot faster when you have a helper.”
Although, to be fair, there are also a lot of distractions.
Like when your helper goes down on you in the kitchen.
Or when he pushes you against the wall in the dining room and fucks you long and hard until your knees buckle and you nearly black out from pleasure.
Or when he carries you into the shower and washes every inch of your body, slowly and sensually, until you’re so turned on you have to have him again.
And again.
So many times.
I really have to stop thinking about that.
And him.
“Are you going to see him again?” Dolly asks, picking up a stack of pies and moving toward the back with Sylvie and me on her tail.
“What’s the point?” I ask. “One or both of us will just end up with a broken heart. He’s leaving for Europe in September and I have to stay here. When will we see each other? I can’t leave Mom and he can’t leave the band.”
“That sounds like an excuse,” Sylvie says. “I wouldn’t let him get away that easily. He sounds dreamy.”
