“Since you waltzed into my studio with your terrible technique and your ridiculous charm and proceeded to turn my entire life upside down.” I trace the line of his jaw. “You’re impossible, you know that? Completely impossible.”
“And yet you’re here.”
“And yet I’m here.”
He kisses me again—soft and sweet and achingly tender.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs. “Tonight. Just... stay.”
“My cottage is literally twenty feet away.”
“I know. But I don’t want to let you go.” His arms tighten around me. “Not yet.”
I think about all the reasons I should say no. The boundaries I should maintain. The careful distance I’ve always kept between myself and everyone else. Then I think about today. About how he showed up at dawn, handled my crisis, danced with a shy little boy, and looked at me like I was worth everything.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His smile is sunrise breaking through storm clouds.
We rearrange ourselves on the narrow couch—him on his back, me tucked against his side, my head on his chest. It’s not comfortable exactly, but with his arms around me and his heartbeat steady under my ear, it feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“The floor is still wet,” I murmur.
“Mmm.”
“And I have three classes to reschedule.”
“Tomorrow.”
“And the bathroom needs to be completely rebuilt.”
“Isadora.”
I look up at him. “What?”
“Stop thinking about the floor.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Just for tonight. Let it go.”
I want to argue. I want to point out that “letting it go” isn’t exactly my strong suit since I’ve spent my entire life holding things together through sheer force of will. But his hand is drawing lazy circles on my back, and his breathing is slowing, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, the voice in my head telling me everything I should be worrying about goes quiet.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?”
“Just for tonight.”
His arms tighten around me, and I close my eyes, and somewhere between one breath and the next, I fall asleep. The last thing I’m aware of is his lips against my hair and his voice, barely audible.
“I’m falling in love with you, Isadora Solis. Just so you know.”
I should respond. I should tell him I feel the same way, that I’ve felt it for weeks, that I’m terrified and exhilarated and completely, utterly lost in him. But sleep pulls me under before I can form the words.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ifinally lock the doors at 6:47 PM. The students have gone. The restoration equipment hums quietly in the background—fans and dehumidifiers creating a constant white noise that should be irritating but somehow isn’t. The damaged bathroom has been sealed off with plastic sheeting. The hallway floor gleams wetly under the lights, still drying but no longer actively flooded. It’s over.
