No one leaves until the kitchen is spotless. But eventually, Noah, Charlie, and Wes head out while the brothers share a cocktail on the back porch. Rose and I are sitting at the kitchen island with cups of tea.
I stare through the kitchen windows to the back porch, which is basically pointless since it’s pitch-black outside and I’m staring at my own reflection.
Rose glances back. “It’s unfair, isn’t it? We can’t see a single thing through those windows, but they can see us.”
“Wonder what they’re talking about,” I muse.
She sips her tea. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe that kiss you two shared this evening.”
I laugh. “They are not talking about that. And how’d you hear about that anyway? You were with Ellie.”
She shakes her head. “Caught you when I was upstairs. Was going to come down, but then Dallas started his speech and I started crying and it was a mess.”
I swallow.
His speech tore at me too, in ways I hadn’t imagined it would. He’s so gruff and grumpy, it’s hard to imagine him loving anyone so much. It’s hard to imagine any man loving someone so hard.
He built a home for Millie brick by brick, exactly where and how she wanted it. He gave up his job, family obligations, and probably loving ever again because of it.
Not until that speech did I really consider what he went through. How badly he’s been hurting.
The high from our kiss quickly melted away. The desire to do it again, and again, and again, faded too.
It would be selfish.
And wrong.
To go after a man whose heart is still broken. Who’s never imagined kissing—much less marrying—anyone else.
“It was for show,” I say.
Her brows perk. “Well, that’s just not true, and I’m offended you think I’d buy that.”
I glance away. “Well, the next one will be,” I tell her, an unwelcome disappointment coiling in my chest. That quiet unease the moment Dallas broke our kiss—then told a room full of people that I wasn’t the one.
Of course I’m not.
And I don’t want to be.
Another pang of heaviness settles. It’s deep and almost bruising. The kind you know is going to take a while to heal.
“Neither one of us is looking for love right now,” I add as a reminder to both Rose and myself.
She pouts. “You’re right about that. But you can’t blame me for daydreaming about how it would be if circumstances were different. It would be perfect, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know about that .?.?.” I wave her off as I push down the bubbly feeling in my stomach at the idea of Dallas and me. “I’m a city girl. I’ve got .?.?. dreams. Ones that don’t involve dive bars and lousy tips. I want to play, sing, record, make my own brand of music for people who get it.”
Rose watches me with a quiet wonder, even though she’s heard all this before. “And a commitment to stay single, apparently.”
“Not forever. Just until I get myself settled. Get my career going. You can’t figure any of that stuff out when you’re tied down.”
She shrugs. “I did.”
“I’m not you. After Eric, I realized where my focus needs to be right now—and it’s on me. What I need, and how and when I’m going to get it.” My tone is sharper than usual and it’s almost like I’m reprimanding myself. Like I’ve forgotten all this.
She smiles softly but it’s laced with concern. “Honey, I know. But now you’re four years closer to that life goal of taking care of yourself first. So, why not move up the romance timeline too?”
I frown. “What?”
