It’s when I’m cleaning up that Brittany calls out, “Coco.”
“Yeah?”
She nods to the driveway. “Someone’s here to see you.”
I look up and my lungs squeeze. Stone gets out of his SUV. He opens the back door, and Hercules jumps out. The lambicorn has gotten so big he’s nearly a sheep.
Stone grabs a bucket from the back seat and strides over. My stomach leaps at the sight of him. He looks amazing in Carhartt jeans and a blue button-down shirt that’s rolled to the elbows. He’s clean shaven, and his hair’s brushed to one side. It’s a little longer on top than it was before, and thicker.
“Hey, Stone,” my mom calls.
“Hey, Mrs. Higginbotham,” he replies, his voice friendly.
He reaches me and I can’t move. I can’t believe he’s here.
“So, um.” He scratches the back of his head. “I heard there were some flowers to be picked.”
“Yes.” Brittany’s gaze swishes from me to Stone and back. “You can pick all you want.”
“Yes, let’s help—” Mom starts.
Brittany grabs her by the hand. “Oh, wow. I hear Nu-Nu. Sounds like she needs something. Let’s go.”
I barely notice them leave because my eyes are glued to Stone. I absorb every inch of him, and as I do, I remember his warm touch, his protective hand on my back, his soft lips.
Oh my God. This is torture, and he’s not even doing anything.
I have to say something. “I’m sorry—”
“Look, I—” he says at the same time.
I laugh and drop my head.
He shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “You first. This time I won’t pretend to know what you’re going to say, maybe because I actually don’t.” His voice is warm and inviting.
I’ve practiced this a lot. I’ve had weeks to think about what I’d say if he ever asked for a deeper explanation than what I gave him at the chapel.
I clear my throat. “I never should have used the spell on you. I didn’t think it would work, but that’s no excuse. And then, after it did work and we became close and I fell for you, I was afraid that once you knew the truth, you wouldn’t love me anymore.”
My throat shrinks. This is harder than I expected it would be, but I push on. “I thought the real me wasn’t good enough for you, that you’d reject me. And that thought”—the words crack as they tumble from my lips—“broke me. I was going to tell you at the chapel, and then Pane came in, and if you hate me, I understand. I would hate me, too, and I did for a while.
“Stone, I never—” My voice falls, and he takes a step toward me, but I hold up my hand to stop him from interfering. “I never wanted you to hate me, and I’m so, so sorry for all of it. For what I did. All I ask is that you forgive me, but if you can’t do that, I understand.”
The words leave me in a rush, and the burden I’ve carried for weeks—almost two months—is finally, finally gone. I inhale a deep, cleansing breath and look at him.
His jade eyes sparkle with a twinge of amusement I can’t place. He grins, and my own mouth quivers as I try to smile back.
“Coco Chanel,” he says.
And it breaks me. I half sob, half laugh.
He takes a step forward and winds his fingers in mine. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” I whisper, looking at his feet.
He hooks a finger under my chin and tips my face until I’m looking up at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. Time and again, you tried to tell me, but I didn’t hear it. I told you what you were going to say instead, and for a long time I was angry. Not because of the spell, but because the spell forced me to see myself, to really look—and do you know what I found?”
I can barely get the whisper out. Too much hope hangs in this moment. “What?”
