He reaches up and cups my cheek, the air crackling between us. “There’s no such thing. The right time is whenever we choose it.”
His eyes hold mine, and I see all his emotions written over his face.
Longing.
Regret.
Love.
And that causes my resolve to slip.
His thumb caresses my dimple, and the familiar touch forces my eyes to close and a soft sigh to escape my lips. Nate takes this opportunity to lean forward and press his lips to my dimple.
My body sighs in relief, as it’s been waiting for this day to come.
My eyes lift and connect with my favorite color of blue.
The connection and electricity that buzzes between us is stronger than ever, and instead of pulling back, we lean closer, cementing what I would admit to no one…I still love him.
His lips move to mine, and my eyes close in recognition.
“Madeline?” Mase’s voice from the hallway breaks us apart. I jerk back and drop my head, my heart pounding against my chest, as it rises in quick succession.
“This isn’t the place to be doing this,” I snap, looking around Camila’s room and cursing under my breath. “God, what were we thinking?”
“Don’t.” Nate’s broken voice hits me in the chest.
I get one last good look at him, and then force myself to turn away. “Goodbye, Nate,” I say, ignoring how he calls after me, and leave before we make any more mistakes.
15
Maddie—Age Thirty-One
Nate—Age Thirty-Three
Seven Years Later
October
Nate
A loud car horn blares as I cross the street. I throw my arm up, and point to the glowing walk sign, indicating I have the right-of-way…asshole.
All I’m trying to do is cross the street, walk into my building, and see my girl.
“Rough day?” Benny, my doorman, grins as I step into the lobby.
“You saying I look like shit, Benny boy?”
“Yeah, pretty boy.” He claps my back with a laugh.
Benny’s a twenty-year-old punk who shows up late more than he shows up at all. He only got the job because his dad’s been the head of maintenance here for fifty years.
Still, I’ve got a soft spot for him.
He watches out for my girl when I’m away. That earns him more grace than most.
“Oh, Nate, wait up.” I turn back toward him. “Harrison’s driver dropped something off. Your niece’s been busy with the crayons again. It’s at the desk.”
